“What happens if New Stygarde wins the war?”
“The agreement dissolves.”
“What happens if you die in battle?” he asks.
“The magic dissolves, but Damien will follow through.”
“And if Damien dies with you?”
“If we both die but win, you’re on your own, Jaqual. You’ll have to elect a leader anyway. Raise your gods-damned hand.”
“What if I die?”
“The magical agreement dissolves.”
“Unacceptable,” he says, and I’m truly surprised by the passion he places behind the words.
“I’m a powerful witch, but I can’t resurrect you from the dead just so you can be elected king.”
He bats away my words with a flick of his narrow fingers. “I don’t care if it’s me, Eloise. I care that there’s an election. I will not be party to an agreement that dissolves upon my death. Should I die, you must be compelled to have the election anyway.”
I reach out to Phantom and have a mental conversation with my great-great-great-aunt Sara. “It can be done,” I say. “Instead of binding myself to you, I can bind myself to the promise. If you provide the men, and I mean all of the men, Jaqual—you must compel your mercenaries to fight for us as a requirement of this agreement, or it’s null and void.”
“If I say so, they will fight to the death.”
I nod. “Then the spell will drain my life-force and eventually kill me if Damien does not comply with the specifications we set out for holding the election.”
His amulet blinks, and I can almost feel his magic scanning me for lies. But I’m not lying. I can do the spell. We need his army. The only thing we have to lose is Damien being named Kingof Stygarde, and that is a possibility he said he was willing to live with if it saved his people.
“Well?” I prompt when the silence seems to go on and on.
Jaqual rolls his eyes toward the starry sky above us. “I need to talk with the heads of each of the Rivertoad families. Unlike Stygarde, we believe in consent around here. My position and my biology bless me with the magical ability to force my assassins to fight, but I won’t do it against their will. They have to agree. I need a few days.”
“You have twenty-four hours,” I say, turning away from him. “I can’t be away from our camp for any longer than that.”
He groans. “I don’t know if it’s possible.”
“How many are there?”
“Sixteen. One for every spoke on the wheel.”
It comes together for me like the pieces of a puzzle. “Are the heads of the families the head of the spoke and all the wagons in line behind them their descendants?”
He tips his head back and forth. “Being biologically related isn’t a requirement to be part of a family, but otherwise, you have it. Each family head speaks for every wagon in their spoke.”
“So sixteen conversations and sixteen yeses between us and this agreement. I have faith in you.”
He rubs his temples, lips flattening. “Fine. You can use the same wagon you did before for the night. I’ll come and get you when I have an answer. We can get the key from Maggie.”
I follow Jaqual back toward Maggie’s tent but psychically ask Phantom to deliver a message to Damien.Our conversation was well received, we’re close to an agreement, andI’ll be staying the night at the Rivertoad camp while Jaqual thinks it through.I sense the dragon launch into the air, and then they’re gone.
By the time Maggie provides me with the butterfly key, Jaqual has excused himself to follow through on what I presume will be a long night of conversations. I head to the violet wagon for some much-needed rest. I’m still recharging my batteries from bringing the vampires through the portal. Even though I slept well the last two nights, I’m wiped.
Since I’ve been here before, I find it easy to locate the wagon and haul myself inside, wondering for the first time what family’s protection I’m officially under in this spoke. I undress completely, carefully stacking my weapons on the small counter. It feels incredible to be free of the weight. As before, the space is small but cozy, and I crawl under the red velvet blanket naked, snuggling into a surprisingly comfortable mattress. I drift off quickly but jolt awake when a cool shadow wraps around my waist.
“Shh. Eloise, it’s just me.” Damien forms, his vast size seeming to fill the wagon.
“What are you doing here?”
