Seth is jealous of Ronan, I realize. That could be of some use.
“But golden boy or not, if you think he stands a chance against Adria, against the five years she has spent plotting this, you’re delusional. She will win, and once she does, she’ll go after anyone who tried to stop her. And that won’t be me. Good luck to you, sister, assuming you make it that long.” He crouches down before me, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. “The way I see it, you have two choices. You can sit here and wait for Ronan to come and get you like you said he would, hopefully quickly so this whole thing can be over. And when he does, you can watch him die. And then I’ll hand you over to Adria, and you can live out the rest of your life, likely your very short life, at her mercy.
“Or—and here’s where it gets more interesting—you could use that special power of yours to save yourself. Yes, I know about it. I heard you’ve been using it quite a bit, and I’d like to see it for myself. I’ve heard all sorts of stories about you, including some stories that I doubt you’d even believe. But none of that matters right now. You were right about one thing: I don’t care what it takes to get away from Adria. I just want to live my life without her breathing down my neck. If you’re as powerful as they say you are, maybeyoustand a chance. Not Ronan. You. So what’s it going to be, dear sister?”
I can’t show Seth my power—my corporeal shadows—because I don’t have access to it without Ronan around. But I also don’t want him to know that. I won’t be able to conceal it from him long, but I need to buy myself as much time as I can. “I can’t use it right now. My magic was drained in the fight,” I say. It’s a lie, but I’m careful not to tilt my head down as I say it.
“Good thing for you that it’s dawn, and that means I have to drag myself out into battle. Don’t worry; I’ll be back this evening. I won’t be anywhere near the actual fighting.”
“Father always fought on the front lines—”
“And Father is dead. I’m many things, Sylvie, but I’m no fool. I know that was a lie about the magic. Do you know how I know?”
I shake my head, sick of Seth’s games. “Just tell me.”
“No, Iwon’ttell you because then you’d stop doing it. That thing I said earlier about tilting your head? Nowthatwas a lie. Do you see how easy it is?” He pushes himself up from the ground. “I’d say you have the day to think about your next move, but I am going to have to insist you get some sleep. I can’t have you using whatever power you have to escape.” He reaches into his desk and pulls out a bottle of amber liquid. “Would you just take this willingly so I don’t have to knock you out? It’s a basic sleeping draught, nothing harmful. I take it myself all the time.”
“Why should I believe you when you’ve just shown me how easily you can lie?”
He takes out a clean white handkerchief and dabs some of the liquid on it, smiling as he does it. It smells strongly and pleasantly of ginger and bergamot, spicy with hints of fruit. “Good. You’re not as hopeless as I thought. This is just cologne.” He rubs it on his neck and temples. “But I would suggest getting some rest, especially if you think Ronan is coming for you. And have a bath—I’ll send a servant in. You lookterrible.”
Chapter Six
Ronan
Kira makes it back to the palace just as the sun rises over the sea. I help Taran down from her back, stretching my legs and rolling my neck, stiff after hours of riding.
She’s exhausted too, and I apologize to her for pushing her so far. I feed her a bucket of her favorite herring and scratch her neck under her reins. She nuzzles against me, and I sense her feelings: concern, along with a maternal desire to protect me.
Taran watches with trepidation, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but then Marta comes over to tend to her and get her back into her stable, and he relaxes somewhat when Kira’s lion legs lower into the hay.
“So you’ll be leading my griffin legion then, I take it?”
Taran yawns loudly, shaking his head. “Never again. I’m not sure I’m in any condition to lead any of your legions today.”
“That makes two of us. But I’m not sure Nithyria is going to give us the day off.”
In reality, I’m not expecting much from today’s fighting. The Nithyrian forward regions have organized, but they’re no match for Faros’s defenses. The city’s earth-born have spent all day and night digging ditches around the walls and repairing the defensive barriers, the nature-born and water-born have drapedsoaking sheets and skins over the roofs of important buildings to protect them from fire, the fire-born have targeted any siege weapon that dares come too close, and the air-born have repelled most of their missile-fire, with the shadow-born helping all of them keep working through the night.
The entire city has organized itself to repel the attack, and so far, we’ve been successful. I doubt much more fighting will occur until the rear legions advance, but I’ll be there at the front nonetheless.
“Perhaps if you stay up on the walls today, sir,” says Taran, knowing exactly what I’ll say.
“And miss all the fun?” There won’t be any fun to be had, and we both know it. But I do indulge Taran a bit by not heading immediately for my horse and armor. “Let’s check in with the war council first; tell them what we saw. Then we can decide.”
The palace has been busy over the past couple of days rearranging itself to support the war effort. The ballrooms have been turned into an infirmary, the courtyards into forges and training grounds, the kitchens opened to make use of as much of the perishable food we have as possible before it spoils. The war council has moved from my living room into the library, the room my father used for the same purpose just a few years ago.
The situation, as they explain it to me, isn’t great, but it could be far worse. We’re equipped to withstand something like eighteen months of siege conditions, but we expect to breach the naval blockade long before then. There’s an issue of certain Selaran Houses joining with Nithyria, House Faber being the greatest blow due to their weapon stores, but most of the Houses great and small are doing what they can to support Selara in the field and within the walls of Faros.
The most pressing issue is the elixir situation. The Alchemists’ Guild upheaval, while apparently unrelated to the Nithyrian war plans, was nonetheless incredibly poorly timed. Ithas left us with almost no elixirs to care for the wounded in the war, of which there will be many, and virtually no means to make more without freeing everyone who conspired against me.
“You could order them to send some of the gold alchemists out of the refining rooms to make elixirs. Or you could keep the others in chains, sir,” says Cyrus, stroking his silver mustache as he does when he knows I’m going to cave. “Or bring their equipment into the jails if you have to. People will die without the elixirs, your majesty. You know this.”
I do know this, but I also know that it won’t stop at the elixirs. At one point, Cyrus mentioned that Zara’s research into magic suppression could be useful in the war effort. He knew how I would react to the suggestion; I know he only made it to make his later asks seem more reasonable. This game we play is nothing new, and I suspect we’ll play it many more times before the fighting is over.
But heisright about the elixirs. I know he is. “Bring them back to the Guild in chains and under constant supervision. They may make healing elixirs only. Actually, add silphium to that.” Silphium, the contraceptive elixir. The last thing this city needs during the siege is a baby boom. “Nothing else. Those are my own people outside of the gates. I’ll fight them if I must, but I’m not turning untested alchemical research on them.”
“Very good, sir,” says Cyrus.
