“How many soldiers do you have with you?”
“Two thousand.” Xadrian sighed and shook his head. “I would have brought more, but it is as Malahi said it would be: the blight has crossed the Liratoras and entered the sands. My mother and the rest of our forces have moved to hold it back.”
“Mudamora’s army has developed some techniques for damming the blight that we will gladly share.” Turning to face the others, Killian said, “For those of you who don’t know him, this is His Royal Highness, Prince Xadrian of Anukastre.”
In swift, terse terms, he explained the current situation to Xadrian, who, for all his youth, was experienced in warfare.
“So they’ll come by ship.” Xadrian rubbed his chin. “We’ve experience repelling invasion from the sea.”
“We have a Gamdeshian shifter—Astara—who can aid in scouting where they intend to land,” Killian said. “For better or worse, a fleet is difficult to hide.”
“Marcus is familiar with Astara’s skills,” Agrippa muttered. “He knows we have eyes in the sky and will plan accordingly.”
Xadrian scoffed, but Killian could feel the boy’s tension. Knew his mark was warning him of what was to come. Yet the prince’s voice was steady as he said, “You fear him, Agrippa. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I’m gods-damned terrified of him, and you should be, too,” Agrippa snapped. “But I can see inyoureyes that you’ll not believe a word I say until you come face-to-face with them.”
“I fear no man.”
It was bluster, Killian knew it. False confidence from a prince who’d been raised to be the backbone of his nation’s army, ever confident, never failing. But bluster didn’t hide the way Xadrian’s dark curls were dampened with nervous sweat.
Agrippa opened his mouth, but before he could deliver whatever retort he had lined up at the prince’s expense, a heavy knock sounded at the door. It opened, and Bercola entered. A pair of giants followed at her heels. Killian recognized both as members of Eoten Isle’s high council. They were old and grizzled, their colorless eyes lined with deep wrinkles, but both towered over Killian and wore their weapons like they knew how to use them.
Bercola nodded at Killian, then said, “It strikes me that time isshort, so I’ll not waste words. Eoten Isle stands with Mudamora, and our long ships sail with two thousand warriors to aid in the fight against the Seventh’s incursion. In exchange, you’ll need to hand Baird over for punishment for desertion.”
Agrippa’s face darkened but before he could speak, Killian said, “I don’t know where he is. He aided me in delivering a blow against Rufina’s army and saved my life, but I’ve not seen him since.”
Bercola’s face was unreadable as she said, “He’ll show up. I trust you won’t stand in the way of us reclaiming him.”
Killian made a noncommittal noise, then shifted the subject. “Would it be possible for one of Gespurn’s marked to make the seas through the strait less welcoming? We’ve reason to believe the Cel intend to set sail to our shores and every effort must be made to delay them.”
One of the giants gave a slight nod. “Within reason. Altering the natural course of the skies has far-reaching consequences.”
“It’s starting to feel like we have a chance here,” Agrippa murmured. “Which means I can’t help but feel that the other shoe is about to drop.”
Killian felt the same way, but before he could answer, he heard a familiar sharp voice demand, “Where are they?”
Helene. Killian closed his eyes, digging deep for reserves of patience to deal with the frustration to come.
The doors swung in, Helene swanning into the room withLydia’scrown perched on her head, the diamond ring that had secured her vote hanging on a golden chain between her breasts. “The High Lords voted in your absence,” she declared. “I now rule Mudamora, and you will cease and desist in your plotting.”
“Get out of my house, you murderous bitch,” Seldrid said softly. “You killed my brother, and if you don’t think there will be a consequence to that, you are mistaken.”
Helene shrugged. “Hacken reaped what he sowed by killing Ria. And you are High Lord now, Seldrid, so you should not complain too much.”
“Get out!”
“Not while you lot conspire to make things worse. And not when I have a solution to our woes.” Helene tossed a letter written on thick, expensive paper onto the table. It was sealed with crimson wax. “The Cel commander has offered us a deal, and I intend to take him up on it.”
Killian’s skin began to crawl, and he nodded at Agrippa, who picked up the letter.
“It’s Marcus’s writing.” Agrippa swiftly read, shaking his head. “And it’s addressed to Queen Kitaryia Falorn. In exchange for surrendering Lydia Valerius, who is the betrothed of the Dictator of Celendor, as well as ceding control of the gold mines of Rotahn, the Empire will provide aid against the Derin incursion and supply the civilian population with food and necessities until the blight can be eradicated, at which time Mudamora will be officially named a province of the Empire.”
A quiver ran through him, and Killian felt the overwhelming urge to draw his sword. To hunt down that Cel bastard and run him through.
“How amusing that they don’t realize that Lydia and Kitaryia are one and the same.” Helene snickered. “All we have to do is give them Lydia, as well as Malahi’s mines, and they will get rid of the blight for us. I say we take the deal. Lydia is from Celendor anyway, so what difference does it make to her to go back?” Her eyes flicked to Killian. “I’m sure they’ll let you go with her.”
“You are a profoundly stupid woman,” Agrippa said. “I dare say that if we crack your skull open, we’ll find nothing inside.”
