She scanned the room. No one was close enough to hear them. Bracing her elbows on the gold railing, she leaned into the sound buffer created by the crackling water. “I had an interesting meeting onthe way back to Dali. One of Carik’s old enemies is amassing an army to depose him.”
“Oh?”
Neither his face nor his tone betrayed any hint of his feelings.
“You spent some time campaigning for him.”
Uncle Jerran hummed. “And what was your assessment of him?”
“He’s a suit,”Wells’s voice warned. Kalie grimaced.
“I’m not sure we can trust his motives.”
“My dear, in politics, you can trust no one.” Uncle Jerran sighed. “You’re inclined to throw our support behind him, it seems. So I’ll ask you what I asked Calida two decades ago. War is costly. Are you willing to pay that price?”
She turned from the round waterfall to the lively, festive ballroom, drinking in the sight of couples twirling to sweet melodies. The imagined sight of this beautiful hall in ruins, littered with corpses, made her stomach turn.
“I have to be.” Breathing in the perfumed air, Kalie cleared her throat. “It’s not just about revenge. We’ve been targeted, and I suspect Carik will start targeting the rest of his enemies now that he’s proven he can get away with it. We have to remove him while we have a chance.”
“Don’t be hasty. If peace is an option, we owe it to our people to pursue it. Send Carik your terms?—”
“He’ll never agree, no matter what I demand.”
“But you’ll be able to say you tried.”
“We’d be wasting time! He’ll scoff if I demand his resignation, and he’ll never cooperate with an investigation.” Uncle Jerran held up his hand, but she barreled on, trembling with fury. “Hedoesn’t deserve a chance for peace, not after what he did! He deserves to burn in hell?—”
“Is that what your people deserve?”
Kalie’s nails dug into her skin.I don’t care, she wanted to say, and honestly, what room did he have to talk? His war against Grandmother Madeleine had destroyed the planet. He hadn’t kept the people’s best interests at heart. Pointing that out would accomplish nothing, though—she needed him on her side.
“I told your friend I’d have an answer in three days.”
“Then inform him you’ll be sending terms for peace, and continue to update him on the progress. Keep this quiet, Kalista. Many wars have been won before the first battle was fought.”
Kalie’s face heated. The throne washers, the decision washers. He had no right to speak to her like a dull-witted child. She was the fourth duchissa he’d served over the course of his seventy-three cycles, though, and everyone knew the real power on Dali belonged to him.
She wasn’t the leader Dali needed, he was.
Swallowing her pride, she nodded.
“Good.” Uncle Jerran lowered his voice. “What do you make of young Mr. Grant?”
“He’s brash. Reckless with his words. He doesn’t fear the authority of those in power.”
“And it is precisely that which makes him a valuable asset. A guard who doesn’t fear his duchissa’s rivals makes for a guard who can’t be cowed by them.”
“You want me to put him on my guard.”
Uncle Jerran smiled. On stage, the singer belted out a soul-shattering high note.
“It’s a double-edged sword,” Kalie protested, though she could see the merits of employing one of Dali’s best pilots. “If he doesn’t respect my authority?—”
“Ah.” Uncle Jerran held up a finger adorned with a gaudy amethyst ring. “Respect and fear are two very different things, of which Mylis is acutely aware. Does he fear you? Likely not. There’s too much in his past for him to frighten easily now. But if you treat him with respect, you’ll earn his unwavering loyalty.”
“Would you put him on your guard?”
“Most certainly.”
