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Are we going to lose our chance at an alliance over my magic without my even using it?
The wretched power takes that moment to yank at me, demanding that I let it loose to force agreement from their throats. As if that would win us anything but animosity and horror.
I must keep my poker face well enough. Though the question doesn’t totally fade from Garom’s eyes, he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “Your mind is definitely too keen by half.”
Casimir steps in with all his usual smoothness, changing the subject back to the most important matter at hand. “You’re free to make your own decision, of course. That’s what the new queen can offer you more than anything—a chance to make your voice heard. Lothar doesn’t care about any interests other than his own.”
I suppress the urge to reach over and squeeze his hand in thanks. I was right to bring him with me.
We work together well—as so much more than just lovers.
“That is the impression I’ve gotten of that armless asshole, I have to say,” Sonia mutters, and my spirits lift a little higher.
Hellar flicks his fingers dismissively, but he doesn’t outright argue, which I’ll take as enough of a victory. “If we can agree on a reasonable meeting spot, I could consider hearing the princess out. But our friendship won’t come cheap.”
I pull my lips into another smile. “I never expected it would.”
We’ve won the first round. I didn’t know for sure we’d make it even this far.
Now we’ll have to find out whether Petra can hold her own against the most powerful criminals in the city—and win them over at the same time.
Thirteen
Casimir
Jolmi swipes a rag across the varnished wood of the bar counter and peers across it at the mismatched group clustered around two large pub tables pushed together. “So this is the city’s last hope, hmm?”
There’s a teasing note in his tone, thank the gods. I give my former classmate’s hand a playful nudge of my elbow, but his words prickle right down to my uneasy stomach.
The thirty or so figures deep in discussion around those tables are essentially the only Silanians we’ve gathered so far who are willing to stand up to the scourge sorcerers. And it still remains to be seen whether they’ll manage to stand together rather than dissolve into squabbling.
The three gang bosses with scarred scalps who Ivy and I convinced to attend this meeting look both wary and skeptical in their seats at one end of the tables. The underlings standing guard behind them only add to the ominous vibe.
The handful of nobles and soldiers we’ve brought on board wear equally wary expressions as they consider the admitted criminals. As if we don’t have bigger things to worry about than what laws they defied in the past now that the man who made those laws has been murdered.
We’ve picked up a few other allies over the course of the past couple of days: a cleric who escaped the massacre at the Temple of the Crown, sitting alongside the devouts; the husband-and-wife heads of the merchants’ guild; two more guards who’ve remained loyal to the Melchioreks. All of the soldiers, postures rigid as ever even though they’re in plain clothes now, have stationed themselves behind Petra and her siblings at the head of the opposite table.
The whole arrangement gives the impression of a hostage negotiation rather than a communal brainstorming session. Tension hangs in the air thickly enough to set the hairs on the back of my neck on end.
How are we going to overcome the most powerful enemies our kingdom has ever faced if we can’t even agree to fight them together?
This scenario should be in my wheelhouse. I was able to tell Petra what I’d gleaned that the gang bosses most wanted from me—the guarantee that the new queen would hear them out and offer much more freedom than her father did. I’ve studied every new arrival for any signs of guilt or subterfuge.
I even arranged this meeting spot on neutral ground. Out of all the dedicats to Ardone I trained alongside at Sovereign College and before, Jolmi was the one I was most sure would abhor what the scourge sorcerers are doing to this city… and who owned a space we could easily make use of.
He’s shown a relieving sense of caution, arranging the meeting at a time when even his husband won’t hear about it. But I can’t tell how much he’s agreed out of loyalty to the Crown and how much out of the thrill of watching the hidden heir pull together her resistance.
It’s a moment for the history books, no doubt.
I consider him for a long moment, seeing nothing but the eager gleam in his eyes and what appears to be a genuine wish to please as he pours the drinks one of the gang bosses shouts for. Then I turn my attention back to the tables.
Unfortunately, I can’t simply run through them all person by person, delving into their desires with my gift. Even imposing my magical talent on two of the gang bosses yesterday left me exhausted.
It seemed most important to take a peek at the one I skipped yesterday, the one Ivy trusts the most, when they arrived this evening. That was rather a waste, since it turns out his wants are quite aligned with his colleagues’, but I suppose it was better to confirm that than regret assuming it.
I could probably discern at least a vague sense of one more person’s deepest craving tonight without knocking myself to the floor, but even that would be pushing my limits. So I’ve held my gift in reserve, relying on my non-magical skills to evaluate the group instead.
Our future queen rests her elbows on the tabletop as she leans forward. I have to credit Petra for the fortitude she’s shown in the face of recent tragedies.
