He stood, wiping his brow and rolling the parchment into a tied scroll. “Is there anything else before I go, Your Majesty?”
“Maximilian’s contract, perhaps?” murmured Riou.
John glared at him, but he looked just as apprehensive.
“Albrecht and I are getting to know each other well. His sovereign’s offers sound entirely promising. The decision will be made in time for my ceremony.” She gave John her hand, and he pecked it. Before he released her, she gave his palm a slight squeeze. “Have faith in me.”
Have faith in me, she’d said. It was a loaded request. What reason did they have to trust her with their lives? They had reason to be nervous as they appeared. She’d never led an army before, never had a father who fronted one… or ever led by virtuous example, really.
But kings didn’t need virtue to win a war, and neither did she.
Lilac had also never married. Didn’t know what it was to be betrothed with a man of her own choosing, didn’t know what it was to be a wife, andwas never allowed to attend anyone else’s wedding ceremony. She didn’t know what it was to fall with child, the seed to be sown.
But shehadfought and negotiated before, for her own life and those of others. If she could do it in Cinderfell at the mercy of Kestrel, wherever he was, defeat his revenant, overcome a carriage accident and somehow absorb some of Garin’s powers, enthralling herself to him…
If she survived Garin’s hunger and desire—whatever lay beyond desire—then none of that mattered. Then, there was hope.
“Remain discrete. Find our best pigeon and have my treasury ready.”
John clutched his quill and ink box to his chest in horror. “Your Majesty, this kind of correspondence should be hand carried. There is too much risk in delivery by pigeon.”
“How would flight carry more risk than a person travelling by horse and boat? We have perfectly reliable birds in our loft,” Lilac argued. “Hand delivery will take weeks; the bird is much faster.”
“The thing is, anyone suspicious could hunt it down and we’d never know.Your family’s messengers are quick,” Riou reassured her. “They’ll journey discreetly to the northern ports on horseback and find a merchant ship. There are several departures a week, if not per day.”
“Whether your plea is heard depends on your letter’s delivery, Your Majesty,” John added. “I advise you to weigh?—”
“I’m not asking either your advice or permission. Send for my horses by air.” She held their gazes, forcing herself to exhale slowly. This would be far easier with magic.
John dipped his head. “Very well,” was all he said in reply. He scooted his chair back, rose, and shuffled to the door, tipping his hat to Piper on his way out.
Riou stood and strode around the table to meet her. He took Lilac’s hand as she offered it, and squeezed gently, his mouth set in a hard line. Then, he continued toward the exit.
“You both have good reason to doubt me.”
Riou stopped in his tracks.
Lilac’s chest ached with the ghost of humiliation. “I know who my father is. I’m also aware of the negotiation skills of my grandfather and the desperation of my mother. I know my family’s history, my reputation, and that there are those in our kingdom and beyond—in human and Daemonrealms—who move to use these things against me. But I know who I am,” she said quietly. “I am learning her, just as I’ll learn my role here. I have many reasons to doubt myself, but I am confident in my resolve.”
“Start next with the forge,” he directed brusquely, turning to her. “Hamon is one of the blacksmiths working closely with Inwold. He specializes in other types of weapons, but he’ll craft for you for the right price. He might be hesitant at first. He was once close with Armand—but he is loyal to your father. He will listen to you.”
There was no question both Hamon and Brient were Le Tallec loyalists. They had attempted to question her new Daemon law in front of everyone, but weaponry was her most logical next step. The Sanguine Mine was extensive, a never-ending maze of vestibules, central rooms, halls, and tunnels. Garin had mentioned burning corpses and their dead at the pyre, but she never saw one outside; could he have meant a furnace? Shehadspotted a chimney in the main room before Garin led her to his bedchamber. Old mines often accommodated smelting, or at least held the resources to do so on-site.
There’d been a weapons rack in Garin’s room there. Sword after sword displayed like trophies, a small armory on its own. “I’ll discuss it with Inwold when he gets back. Whenever that is.”
Riou’s head tilted. “Back from where, Your Majesty?”
“La Guerche. The battlefield outside it.” Her certainty faded when his peppered brows furrowed. “With the others. He was summoned east. You weren’t aware?”
Stunned, Riou blinked. He ran a hand through his blond hair. “I wasn’t made aware, no. To the battlefield? Why would he be summoned away from here when he’s in charge ofourarmory? This is unacceptable.” He made his way toward the door once more. “If we don’t hear from Inwold, wherever he is, then I will send a pigeon to the encampment or engage Hamon myself.”
“Thank you, Riou.” Perhaps Inwold hadn’t communicated his summons with anyone—it seemed unlikely this was unintentional, though. If he’d told her father, then maybe it inspired Henri to go and observe.
Riou had every right to be cross; he was their cartographer, after all. He hadn’t signed up to do Armand’s or Henri’s job. But he dutifully bowed. “Mademoiselle Allard. Your Majesty.”
When the door creaked shut, Lilac looked at Piper. She was still staring after Riou.
Piper hummed contemplatively into her next bite of croissant. “Interesting.”
