I belted my bedroll behind Kolibri’s saddle, frowning. “Calder bought the mountains as a favor?”
Kye leaned in to tighten the strap I’d just secured. “Aendras struck a deal with the farming guilds of Calder, lowering taxes for the next decade in exchange for what they’d lose in fraggs when he accepted. The mountains aren’t inhabitable. They protect our borders. Before we owned them, anyone could go traipsing across the mountain pass. There are probably other trails someone could cut, if they're looking to kill themselves in the mountains. But now that it’s secured, the only safe way I know of sits above Winterlight.”
I pulled my hair to the side, separating the strands to begin a braid. “Why would that lead to war?”
“Because.” Kye’s chest deflated with a sigh. He watched my fingers work for a moment, considering my question, then stepped in close to reach for my hair, continuing the weavewhere I left it. “A decade after purchasing the mountains, Emilius became King. He founded Winterlight at the base of the pass and organized a dig to see if the mountains held any value other than national security. And the miners hit gold.”
I pursed my mouth, my bones enjoying the quiet tugs of his handiwork as he neared the ends of my hair. I remembered Kye mentioning the mines. Months ago, sitting across from my father on our little veranda, he’d mused about someday running them. “Rivea didn’t realize they owned a gold mine.”
“And iron ore.”
My brows furrowed. “If they gave up the mines, they have no right to declare war.”
He dug in his pocket for a strip of leather, then tied my braid. “It hasn’t been declared yet. Not officially. But two years ago, a letter arrived at Laurier Palace from the Rivean King’s nephew, containing a toxicology report from a sample of soil in one of Rivea’s dead farmlands. It showed the presence ofDicambain their fields.”
I tilted my head pointedly, the word unfamiliar even to my gardener’s catalogue of vocabulary.
“It’s an herbicide.” Kye threaded his fingers, offering me a leg up Kolibri’s side. I stepped into his hands, the weightlessness of being lifted sending my stomach momentarily into my chest. Kolibri huffed at Kye’s nearness, waiting until he stepped away to chomp impatiently in his direction.
“The Rivean King thinks Calder poisoned their crops forty years ago?”
“Well, his nephew.” He climbed onto Sero, clicking his tongue to get the horse moving.“If you look in the emissary notes from fifty years ago, Rivea and Calder had tried to negotiate the sale of the Sylus Mountains several times before, but Rivea had always backed out.”
“Do you think Emilius did it? Poisoned their crops?”
Kye’s mouth parted, but he hesitated. His tongue smoothed out, wetting his crescent scar as he scratched his neck again. “I’m not sure. It all happened before I was born, but…it’s possible.”
I nodded, watching him in quiet calculation. Something told me he leaned closer toit’s possiblethanI‘m not sure.
“You don’t call Emilius your father,” I said, feigning nonchalance as I gauged his reaction.
Eyes forward, reins relaxed in his grip, the only change in his movement was the smallest tightening of his back muscles, his tone a firm request for me to drop the subject. “No, I don’t. Not when I have the choice.”
26
Maren
Kye and I followed the carts into the meadow where farmers gathered to celebrateZbierka Stratených Duší. There must have been a town or village nearby; the Riveans only seemed to grow in numbers. They lifted their heads as we neared. I might have expected the unwelcome we’d received from the people of Vranna, but perhaps the jovial nature of looming festivities prevailed through any doubt they harbored as they took us in.
Their expressions lit as they invited us into their midst, dressed head to toe in worn black clothing, their smiles a stark contrast to the faces of the dead painted over their skin.“Musíš si namalovat tvár!”they said to Kye, waving him to a table lined with white and black paint.“Aby ste mohli vstúpit do Perpetska!”
Managing a grimacing smile, Kye slid from Sero’s saddle, handing his reins to me. A waifish woman stood behind the table, her fiery hair hanging in two long braids. She mashed coal powder in a pestle, adding water to make a paste, and pointed a bony finger between us.“Vaša milujúca žena to musí urobit.”
Kye glanced at me from over his shoulder, reluctant humor dancing suddenly behind his eyes. He raised his hand, beckoning me with the twitch of his fingers.“Pod sem moja žena.”
I smiled as though I knew what he’d said, dismounting and leading the horses to join him. He handed me a bowl of white paint, the edges of the mixture flaky with dried chalk, then sat on an empty wooden stool.
Right. The wives do the face painting. The husbands sneak into Perpetuum. I offered him the reins, taking the bowl and giving the paintbrush a healthy swirl in the thick white sludge.
HisMihauna-damned legs were so long, I had to crowd his knees to reach his face. A circumstance I quickly regretted as he lazily spread his thighs and leaned back to allow me space.
“You shaved your beard,” I said when the woman behind the table walked away. I avoided his gaze, though I felt it heavy on mine.
His smile twitched as the cold paint landed on his cheek. “It was too long. Scratchy. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“What did you use? The pirate knife?”
“I sharpened it.”
