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But the fact that he stopped to ask—and looks nervous about it—only confirms his loyalties. He wasn’t spouting off insults because he thought I’d want to hear them but because he wasn’t filtering his true opinions at all.
“Absolutely not,” I say. “They’re a menace to this country. And that’s why I’m here. What would you say if I offered you the opportunity to oust those traitors—and win the esteem of the royal family?”
Dad knits his brow. “I’d say all those books have finally addled your brain beyond repair.”
I do let myself chuckle then and take another step toward my parents. “Not at all. It turns out all my book-learning has actually been useful to your future queen. You must have heard that the Melchiorek heirs escaped the murder plot and have been speaking out against the Order of the Wild as much as they can. I’ve come on behalf of the legitimate Queen Petra to make you an offer.”
The skepticism hasn’t left my parents’ expressions, but Mom’s eyes have lit up a little all the same. “What kind of offer?”
“If you supply our resistance efforts against the Order of the Wild with weapons and armor—as much as you can manage—you’ll become the official arms supplier for the royal family.”
Dad goes rigid, his lips parting with an eagerness he can’t suppress even as he grapples with his doubts. He’s probably picturing the new sign he’d get to add to the front of the shop once he earned that honor.
“You,” he says uncertainly. “The queen— How?—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt. “Our paths crossed, and I earned her trust. Enough that she believed me when I said there was a good chance you’d support her. She’s laid out her terms in this letter.”
I draw the folded paper from my pocket, holding it out with the Melchiorek family seal showing in the wax that seals the missive.
Dad takes the letter gingerly, as if he’s afraid he might damage it. As he unsticks the seal, my mother hustles over to join him so she can read too.
It isn’t a long letter. Their eyes skim over the words a few times in the space of a minute.
Then Dad looks up at me again. “She says the condition of being named the royal arms supplier is dependent on…”
He can’t quite bring himself to say it?
I allow myself a thin smile. “On my judging that you’ve served her well. I know what our family is capable of. She knows I can confirm that you’ve contributed all you can.”
“Oh.” Mom lowers her hands to clasp them in front of her before combing one back through her hair as if she’s afraid I’ll be judging her looks. “Oh, that’s— You really have found a place for yourself, haven’t you?”
I’ve heard that fawning note in her voice before—when chatting up potential customers of high status. Somehow it isn’t remotely gratifying.
Because it has nothing to do with who I am, only what she thinks I can do for them.
Dad claps me on the shoulder, a smile springing to his lips but a slightly panicked gleam in his eyes. “Of course we’ll do whatever we can to see the rightful queen on the throne where she belongs. You know what I said before—it builds character to have to defend your passions—you’ve always had impressive dedication.”
What they moments ago referred to as stubbornness instead.
He nudges me toward the doorway into the adjoining home. “We should have taken this into the house in the first place. I’ll pour you a drink, and we can discuss specifics man to man.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, with only a trace of irony creeping into my tone. The last of the unsettled nerves that gripped me melt away.
I craved these people’s approval for so long… but it’s absolutely hollow, isn’t it? Focused only on their narrow and frequently superficial priorities.
I don’t require their pride or their blessing. I only need their cooperation so that I can serve Petra the way she deserves, and I’ve got that. I’ve earned my own pride.
Now it’s time to get down to the business of overthrowing an uprising.
Twenty-Nine
Ivy
At the head of our procession, Sulla draws her horse to a stop amid the trees. She turns her head, the fragmented sunlight glowing off her lined face. “You can feel that, can’t you?”
I hadn’t until she halted us. Now, as I concentrate on the sensations around me, a faint tingle of magic brushes over my skin.
I tense, swiveling my head to try to track its source.
