My lips twist in a sardonic smile. “Well, now that just makes me feel excluded.”
Dulenne’s voice carries the flat tone of a soldier delivering unwelcome intelligence. “We’ve wondered why none of their retaliations have been definitive—we’re outmatched if they raise all their forces, plus new allies.”
“The Prince is awake, though it’s unclear if he’s coherent yet,” I say reluctantly. “If they’re trying to ally with the neutral Branches, this might be an ask-forgiveness situation. They wouldn’t hide if he’d sanctioned it.”
“He could be planning to end it himself,” Édouard says.
“He never has before. He and Maman stayed out of it mostly and once he slept again, hostilities resumed. I know that much.”
There’s a grim silence.
The Prince is conscious. Why hasn’t he called Court? Why hasn’t he come for my head? The waiting is driving me to drink. More drink, and into the office of my therapist.
“I’m pleased to see you today, Aerinne,” Dr. Ward says. “It shows self-awareness that you scheduled this appointment
when you recognized you needed support. What’s been on your mind that brought you in?”
Unlike today, I rarely come to her office. We have a standing weekly—sometimes bi-weekly—at-home appointment. Sheslips
into a warded space on Faronne House grounds, and I meet her there under the cover of night. I don’t do well talking about my
feelings in daylight, or on another’s territory.
I’m uneasy. “This doesn’t add up.”
“Timing?” Édouard says.
Dulenne glances at me. “Tonight. They’re moving fast, likely trying to act before we can counter-mobilize. Orders, Commander?”
“We move tonight. Three units, as planned, but prepared for resistance.”
“The forest terrain favors ambush,” I cut him off. “If they’re expecting us, we could be walking onto a killing ground.” I stop. This is an argument I don’t want to have in front of the rank and file. “Dulenne, dismissed.”
He bows, and leaves the office.
Tereille slides off Édouard’s desk. He wears his wheat-and-honey streaked hair clipped short on the sides, longer in the front, his antique bottle-green eyes twinkling at me through a lock falling in his face.
I glance at my therapist, then shove up off the couch and walk to the window, crossing my arms over my chest as I look out at Everenne
University’s forest-dotted campus, the black and white academic complex peering between trees.
“Jules and Numair are worried,” I say. “The disassociation.”
I drop the Low Court documents on Édouard’s desk. It hadn’t gone well today. He pretends to ignore me.
“Lord Étienne successfully negotiated the preliminary reparations agreement,” I say. “Labornne’s official protest over our breach of their District will soon be resolved. Whiners.”
Tereille picks up the report and skims, whistling low. “Expensive. Maybe we should have let it go to the Prince’s Court. I hear the Executioner is in town, and payment by beheading is cheaper.”
I pin Édouard with a look. “You’re certain Dulenne’s intel is good? Labornne didn’t leak false intel to set us up in retaliation? Since when does Montague so poorly secure their tête-à-têtes?”
“Darkan?” she asks. She waits for me to continue. She always waits.
“Yes. The problem is that I don’t see it as a problem.”
The Commander finally sets down the notebook he’s scribbling nothing sentences in while hoping I’ll go away. “If you don’t think I can do my job, demote me, Lady. I can use a vacation.”
Such a damn attitude. “If I demote you, I’ll give Tereille your office.”
