“The marriage would help solidify our position,” he said. “Despite his past, people love Samson. They adore him—”
“They’re stupid,” Elena said, fighting to keep the tremble from her voice.
“I know,” her father said, “but we can’t deny that Samson is a powerful man. Yes, he’s a snake-oil type, but his track record is flawless. Annoyingly so. We’ve seen him turn the tide of battles with his Black Scales. He’s smart, fast, crude. With a man like him at your side, Ravence will never lose.”
Elena said nothing. She stared down at her hands, which suddenly looked so small and far away. In the crackles and hiss of the flames, she heard the voices of history, those past kings and queens who had suffered and sacrificed for this altar before her, this mounting fire that ate everything in its path. She felt its heat, its claim on her destiny. The smoke closed around her, narrowing her field of vision until she was only looking at the haunting, dancing fire. How did her father do it?
Without thinking, Elena reached her fingers toward the pit. The inferno roared and singed her skin. She yelped and yanked her hand back.
“Don’t worry, Elena,” her father said after a moment. “You’ll learn.”
Elena fought back a grimace. She curled her hand in her lap to hide the burn.
Leo leaned forward and scooped up a single flame. It seemed to leap into his hand, ready to claim new flesh.
“I would burn them all, just like your great-grandmother did in the Red Rebellion,” he said. Elena felt her skin prickle as he brought the flame closer and held it up between them. “But there are smarter ways to change the course of this land. Sometimes, all you need is to present the threat and then watch people cower like shobus with their tails between their legs.”
Gently, her father returned the flame back to its waiting hearth. He laid out his unscathed palm.
“I also chose Samson because of the recent influx of Sesharian refugees to our kingdom,” he said.
Elena looked to him in surprise. “What does that have to do with him?”
“For one, Farin is furious that we’ve even offered the Sesharians refuge. He views them as laborers, not refugees. He wants them for his mines. You’ve seen his warnings. The blocked asylums. But the other kingdoms are growing wary of his antics. Even Tsuana has asked Farin to not prohibit their passage.”
Elena nodded. Tsuana was a neutral kingdom. It had never participated in any of the past great wars or regional conflicts. Yet if the Tsuana queen had spoken out against Farin, then it meant Farin truly was unsettling the other kingdoms.
When Jantar had invaded and taken Seshar nearly seven decades ago, the kingdoms of the second continent had been too shocked to retaliate, and the ones on the first continent were too far away to give a damn. Many feared that if they spoke up, they would be next. But her great-grandmother had not kept quiet. She had been the first to offer refuge to the conquered Sesharians who had fled, and several other rulers had followed suit. Ravence’s aid to Sesharians had always been a sore spot for Farin.
But since then, Jantar had found new, rich ore deposits deep in the Sona Range. They had forced the remaining Sesharian families to work their mines, leading to a fresh wave of refugees wanting to avoid the cruel rigs. Elena had heard stories of men starving in the dark. Mines caving with people still in them.
“Jantar has grown too powerful,” King Bormani had once told her and her father during a royal visit. Veran was a small kingdom, known for its spoiled wine and fat nobles. “We can’t afford risking a war with them.”
Her father had only smiled. “And who would ever in their right mind go to war withyou, Bormani?”
Elena stared into the fire. Why would Samson want to marry her, when he was nothing but a glorified servant of Farin? When he was a turncoat himself? The man had served in the Jantari army. Raised his ugly zeemir against his brethren. The very thought of using weapons againstherown people made Elena’s skin crawl.
“Farin needs to appease the other kingdoms before they see the sense in Tsuana’s argument and make requests of their own. And you know how persuasive Queen Risha can be.” Leo continued. “Farin knows of Samson’s marriage offer. I believe that heencouragedSamson to ask for your hand. If he allows his pet Sesharian to marry a Ravani, he thinks it will show that he isn’t as bigoted asweknow he is. And, he thinks—”
“He thinks that Samson will be a puppet king,” Elena finished.
Leo paused. “Indeed,” he murmured.
“Do you think Samson is more than what he seems?”
“Perhaps,” Leo said slowly. “He’s a proud man. Ambitious. I have a feeling that he has grown tired of being under Farin’s thumb. That he wishes for more than just an army and a mansion in the Sona Range.”
“How do you know that?”
But her father did not answer. Slowly, he wrapped his shawl around his arm. The flames whispered as if enjoying some great secret.
“Yassen Knight is coming back to Ravence with Samson. He’ll join your Spear and be a part of your guard until the coronation.”
“Yassen Knight.” Elena was sure she had heard incorrectly.
“Don’t sit there with your mouth hanging open,” her father said, not unkindly. “He defected from the Arohassin, and Samson picked him up. Apparently, they’re childhood friends.”
She scoffed. “The Arohassin burned his name in the sand.”
