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Aurelius’s eyes sparkled in the lamplight—fire against ice. “If I do this, you will reinstate me as your chosen heir.”
The archon’s lips pinched. Her eyes narrowed. When she spoke, her voice bore palpable disbelief. “You would place your own position above your polity? Above the lives of tens of thousands of citizens?”
He stared long at her, finally snorting at her gall. “I still have your proclamation, you know. The one banishing me from House Savair. I suppose self-interest runs in our blood.”
“Oh, for Mesti’s sake, Aurelius. Nihal Sacredos is the son of the high priestess of all Greater Mestibes. If he can eventually purge himself of this scandal, he will one day be our high priest. The beacon of morality for all our people. He wasn’t some plebian who could be secreted away once the truth came out! What would you have had me do?”
“I was fifteen, Mother. Fifteen! And you martyred me in front of the entire city, all to save yourself.”
“I did it for House Savair! To protect the lines gone and the lines yet to come!”
“Bullshit! You did it for yourself! You screwed me then, and you’d have screwed me as herald, too! Keeping secrets. Bending me to your will. But no more! Here is what you will do. You will take the proclamation into the Forum, stand before your citizens, and you will smash it to the fucking ground!” He rose from his chair, palms slamming against her desk. “You will scream at the top of your lungs that Benedict is out and that I am your chosen successor once more. That is my price! Pay it, or I walk!”
And he meant it. He meant every fucking word of it.
Her face was heavy, her voice quiet. “The senate will never vote to confirm you when I die.”
“That is my concern,” he snarled. “Do we have a deal or not?”
She didn’t move for a long time, staring up at him from her seat. “When the war is over, I will—”
“No! No delays. No tricks. You will do it tomorrow morning! Publicly! Before I leave!”
The fury built visibly in her throat. When she at last spoke, it was through gritted teeth. “You will deliver me a signed agreement from the royal family—a promise that they will come to Mestibes’s aid if we are invaded. Give me that... and I will do as you ask.”
A sick smirk grew on his face.
Finally, an ounce of reason.
With a curt nod, he plucked up the folio and made for the door.
“Tell no one of this matter, Aurelius,” she shot in parting. “If the senate finds out, they will try to stop you.”
He was about to disagree with her. To say something like, Even they aren’t so mad as to want war!
But he stopped himself.
Of course they are.
He’d heard more than enough senators wank on about the Compact. About how superior it made Mestibes. About how only a truly civilized society could survive without an army. About how laying down arms and shifting to diplomacy had shown all the other polities to be backward, bloodthirsty savages. About how Mestibes’s willingness to remain undefended was the highest form of prayer and trust they could give to Mother Mesti. About how it proved that Mesti was the greatest of all the Five.
He wasn’t sure whether the senate would keep such nerve with an army burning down the city. But until that point, she was right. They were so set in their peace-loving ways that they probably would try to stop him.
Out loud, he said, “Even Teigra? You would keep this from your own niece?”
“She is their servant now,” said the archon, giving him a final, weighty glare. “Just as you are mine.”
Aurelius held her gaze, snorted, then exited the chamber.
Teigra was waiting in the corridor. “What happ—”
“Not here,” he said, staring at a group of still-milling functionaries in the dark of the awaiting passages. He held his tongue until they were back on open streets, lit by nothing but stars, rendering the whole evening silver and navy. He looked over his shoulders to make sure that rat Kufan hadn’t followed them.
The dreadful folio was heavy in his hands—packed with all the euphemisms and bigotry of the dead herald.
When he was sure they were alone, he studied Teigra’s confused face.
She was the one member of his extended family who hadn’t treated him as an outcast after he’d been disgraced. The only one who had stuck by him, despite the beatings her mother had given to try to keep her away.
