“We need terms.” Gabe had never been a good negotiator, but the conversation up to this point had been blunt enough that he didn’t think Finn was much of one, either. “Auverraine may be taken over by hostile forces, but it’s still our home. Its citizens cannot be collateral damage.”
“I understand.” Finn nodded, sobering. “Every attempt will be made to keep as many people alive as possible.”
Which was probably as good as they were going to get.
Gabe looked to Malcolm. This was everything they’d hoped for—the promise that, maybe, they could stop the creep of the Empire, a Holy Kingdom spanning the globe under Apollius’s thumb.
“We’ll need a ship,” Gabe said. “One of our own, when we leave.”
“Just getting Val’s back would be good,” Malcolm said. “She’s spitting mad about that, still.”
“Can’t give you one when we leave,” Finn said, “but once the fighting is done, you can have whatever you want from the fleet.”
So there was their passage to the Golden Mount. All it took was becoming weapons.
Malcolm’s face was drawn into uneasy lines. His mouth worked a moment, then he gave Gabe a slight nod. If Gabe was in, so was he.
“We’ll do it,” Gabe said. “But we have some requests.”
“Certainly.” Finn waved a hand. “Whatever you want. Within reason.”
“Our friends come with us.” No way were they leaving Michal and Val and Mari behind. Lore’s mothers would throttle him if he abandoned them in Caldien while he went closer to their daughter. “And we leave as soon as possible.”
“Done.” Finn turned toward the door. “Welcome to the Caldienan army, boys.”
“Gods dead and dying,” Malcolm cursed.
Gabe expected chaos in the streets, the citizens of Farramark reacting to the deposition of a Prime Minister who had seemed tolerated well enough. But when Finn led them from the room—a cellar in the bottom of some well-kept house near the Rotunda, a surprisingly genteel imprisonment—things seemed to be progressing as if nothing had happened at all. The roadways teemed with people on the way to their errands. The carriages they passed gave them slight nods of acknowledgment.
“This is the most peaceful takeover I’ve ever seen,” Malcolm murmured, echoing Gabe’s thoughts.
“It’s because no one knows it happened,” Finn said, ambling ahead of them. He twirled a finger in a circle by his head, indicating the whole of the city. “This is how it goes, when the government doesn’t concern itself much with the people. Life here will continue on as it always has, regardless of who the Prime Minister is.”
“Until we start the war,” Gabe said.
“Well, yes. Until then.”
Fire crackled in Gabe’s fists, burned down his spine. War sounded good. War sounded perfect.
Next to him, Malcolm looked pensive. His hands opened and closed, his fingers flexing outward, as if he kept grabbing handfuls of something he didn’t want to touch.
Finn led them to the boardinghouse, cheerily greeted Mrs. Cavendish. Mari was helping her in the kitchen, kneading the bread their landlady made every day. When Gabe and Malcolm entered behind Finn, her deep-brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I would love fish for dinner, I think.” Finn said it as if it were an idle thought. “Would that be possible, Mrs. Cavendish? I’m craving it something awful.”
“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Cavendish wiped her hands and set the cloth aside. “I was just about to go to market. It may take me a mite longer to go all the way to the harbor, but the walk will do me good.”
Finn gave her a winning smile. Mari’s eyes narrowed farther.
The poison runner didn’t mince words once the landlady was out of the house. “I knew you were a snake.”
“That’s hurtful.” But Finn’s ease belied the statement as he turned around a chair and sat in it backward, resting his hands under his chin. “Especially when I’m giving you what you want.”
Mari looked to Gabe and Malcolm, brow cocked. “Is he telling the truth, or is this a hostage situation?”
“A bit of both,” Malcolm answered.
Finn’s grin widened. “You wanted to march on Auverraine, right? Save your friends from a King unfortunately infected with godhood, save your daughter from the Burnt Isles?”
