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I suppose the boy king doesn’t have the required team spirit to take charge. And to think he’s about to rule his kingdom. He is currently under a regency—five dukes and a prince rule for him—but I believe he’ll turn twenty-five and come into his crown shortly.
“I say a hundred first, and if it works, we can reevaluate,” Selina proposes.
I smile at her, feeling a strange sense of pride by association. These spoiled brats are doing some good, at least. A hundred gold coins would make the difference between life and death to many. Some households earn less per year. Suddenly, I don’t quite feel like murdering Reiks. Whichcouldbe because the caffeine and sugar he fed me finally hit my system.
She's no one.
I wouldn't mind kicking his shin a time or ten, though.
Everyone agrees on the finances, and Reiks wraps up the matter. “All right. A hundred thousand each. You can sign your order by Lughnasadh.”
My jaw drops. I look up from my notes to Reiks and stare in absolute disbelief. A hundredthousandgolds?Each? And to think I’d considered myself wealthy. I’ve never seen that much money in my entire life. I’m not entirely sure my mother's domain is worth five hundred thousand.
“I’ll have Peria look into a list—select a few hundred artists so we can discuss the choices at our next meeting. Now, let’s get back to the issue we talked about last week.”
“The Pillar funneling church funds to the rebels?” Selina sighs. “I still can’t get my hands on them. My best spies are on the case, but no one’s talking, either out of fear, or because they’re sympathetic to the cause. If we want results, we’ll have to hire the guild.”
Reiks turns to the prince of Dorath. I don’t know his name. I remember his brother, of course. The scandal that exploded when Loken North was arrested for the queen’s murder is still fresh in my mind even now, years later. The little brother, though…I don’t think anything’s ever been said about him.
“I can try to contact them.” He licks his lips. “But the guild doesn’t like to work on political issues. They’ll do it, but it’d cost us. A lot.”
I wonder which guild he’s talking about—the assassins or the thieves. Then I decide I don’t want to know. I’ll take notes and keep my nose out of business that could get me murdered.
They talk of taxes on low-income households, youth clubs in the poorer areas, apprenticeships and territorial wars between lower lords—some situations, they can intercede in, others are beyond their power, but they still debate them.
I wonder what the Frejr matriarch would think of this meeting. I wonder what I think of it. I want to believe these kids can make a difference in Xhera when they ascend. But power is like poison; it corrupts and destroys. When their time comes, they could be just as cruel or careless as their predecessors.
A couple of hours later, everyone leaves minutes apart, to avoid being seen together, I suppose.
I follow Reiks out of the library.
“The notes.” I hand him the pretty notebook back.
No way am I keeping that much sensitive information on me. I keep the pen, though. It’s smoother than mine. I’ll steal it as a tax for unethical premature awakening.
He stuffs the book in his dark blue leather satchel. I spy a fully electrical tablet I couldn’t have held, let alone worked on, along with a book on sociology and one on economics. Like he’s just another student.
I wonder whether he does his own work or hands it off to a servant.
“Not badly done today, Frejr.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You didn’t need me.” I’m almost certain he woke me up simply because he knows I hate mornings. I still wonder who might have told him. I’ll have to interrogate my cousins, though if they babbled, they’ll doubtlessly lie about it.
I wonder what else he might have heard about me.
I’m private, for many reasons. Chief among them, safety.
Reiks’s smirk grates on my nerves. “Whether I need you is immaterial. Your time is mine. I’ll call when I want you with me.”
“Why would you want me there? I’mno one,remember?” I snap.
His smile shows almost all his white teeth. “Oh, Alis. Did I hurt your little ego by saying the truth? Youareno one to the five crowns. You’re only relevant insomuch as you owe me a great deal of money—eleven million, if you’d like to know. I checked.”
My throat tightens. He’s kidding, right?
“You’re welcome to talk to the curator of the royal collection, if you’d like to verify the number.”
Though I must admit I didn’t endeavor to conceal my astonishment and disbelief, I hate how easily he reads me.
