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Ilse took a seat on the third side of the campfire. Raul sorted through a collection of mugs, plucked the cleanest of them, and poured her a cup of coffee. She accepted it with caution. His mood was clearly sarcastic, Valara’s furious. It was easy to see they’d already had at least one unpleasant exchange.
“What have you decided so far?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Valara said.
“And everything,” Raul added.
Ilse sipped her coffee, which was bitter, and observed them both. Valara’s mouth was set in a hard, angry line. Raul appeared amused, but she read tension in the tilt of his head, the way he flexed his fingers as he refilled his own mug.
“Would you like to know what we’ve discussed?” he said to Ilse. “Your companion is not Károvín or Veraenen. Her accent confirms that. She claims to be Morennioù’s newest queen. An outrageous declaration, but let us accept it for now—”
“You said you wanted peace,” Valara broke in. “You lied.”
“How so?”
“If you truly wanted peace, you would not demand a price in return.”
Raul shrugged. “Our queen believes we should provide her with a ship on her word alone. To ask for any assurance is unreasonable.”
“I said nothing like that. You want too much.”
“I want your promise that you will not involve yourself in our wars.”
“And what if I refuse? Would you deliver me to Lord Khandarr?”
“No, to King Leos Dzavek.”
Ilse went still. The coffee roiled in her empty stomach. “Raul—”
“Hush,” he said. “Let me continue the part our queen expects.”
A role, then. Her misgivings, however, did not abate.
Valara was glaring at Raul. “You speak of treason to your own king.”
He seemed impervious to her rage. “I’ve committed treason already, by certain lights. I learned of your escape last week. And yet I said nothing to anyone in authority. If I had, you would be in Lord Khandarr’s gentle custody.”
A long pause followed while Valara studied Raul. The tattoos on her cheek and under her lips stood out against her pale brown skin. Ilse thought she saw traces of a third. Again, she wondered at their significance.
Finally, Valara said, “You mentioned the jewels before. Does that mean you are searching for them?”
“No. I wish to secure peace between my kingdom and Károví. The jewels are a hindrance.”
“Or a provocation,” Ilse murmured.
&n
bsp; Raul shot her a keen glance. “Yes, or a provocation. They are rare and powerful objects, which any kingdom might find useful in war. Do you deny that?”
Valara’s eyes narrowed—almost an obvious clue to her thoughts, except that Ilse believed nothing obvious about this queen. Was she calculating the risks to any answer? Or possibly weaving a new and more plausible story?
“You wish me to be honest,” Valara said at last. “Very well. I have said we in Morennioù possess one of the jewels. I discovered it myself in Autrevelye—what you call Anderswar. It was last summer.”
Ilse suppressed a flinch of surprise. Last summer was the time when she and Raul had received disquieting news from their spies. Károví had begun naval maneuvers off the Kranje islands. Not long thereafter, Dzavek had recalled high-ranking officers from Taboresk, Duszranjo, and Strážny. She glanced toward Raul, whose expression had not changed, but she knew the same thought would occur to him.
“Did Dzavek know of your discovery?” he asked.
Valara hesitated. “He did. But he did not know my identity until much later. That was when he launched a fleet of ships through Luxa’s Hand.”
