“What happened here?” I ask. The others in the room gather to hear our conversation, Adria and her people keeping a careful distance.
“It all happened so fast,” says Quinn. “The sky went red, the ground shook, there was a huge explosion in the distance, the river flooded, there was lightning everywhere. We thought you were right, Sylvie. We thought we were all going to die.” She glances at Adria with a look that makes me desperate to know what they all did when they thought the end was near. I imagine we’ll be hearing about the impacts of that moment for years. “Taran begged me to fly out to you on Bitey, and I tried, but there was a massive gust of wind. I barely got him back here.”
“But he’s alright?” Ronan asks.
“He’s fine. He’s running messages to the legions. We all agreed to stand down until we knew what was happening.”
Another look at Adria. Clearly this ceasefire was not her idea, even though she’s the one who benefits the most from it.
“Is it over?” asks Taran.
I look at Ronan, and he nods. “It is. The Machair Plains have been restored.”
That earns a reaction from the room. Several people begin speaking at once, but Ronan holds up his hand to quiet them. “All will be explained, but it’s true: the Machair Plains are arable once more.” He looks at Adria. “Are we your prisoners? Or will you negotiate?”
“What of the ash?” she asks. “What happened to Nithyria?”
“Nothing. Nithyria stands as it ever was. But the ash will no longer be needed, not in the same quantity, at least.” The ash still has use in making silver, but with our own food supply, there should be much less need for it. “Gold alchemy is over in Selara.”
Another wild reaction. “Over?” asks Seth. “As in?”
“As in I released it,” I say. I don’t reveal the existence of the phoenix: if anyone else finds out what it’s capable of, it will be hunted to the ends of the earth.
All eyes turn to Adria as she considers her next move. She has all of us here in the palace outnumbered. She could take us prisoner, forcing the other commanders to the negotiating table to surrender, or she could even execute us and continue the war, hunting our forces down to the last man.
But when I look at my sister, her head sagging under the weight of the crown and the weight of the world, the death of our mother by her hands hanging heavy on her shoulders, I can see the fight has gone out of her. “I’m ready to negotiate.”
In the end, Adria surrenders once more, the cause she fought for now guaranteed, and the loss of at least one of our parents no longer avengeable. She relinquishes her title as God-Queen and Head of House Verran, passing the latter title to my brother.
He tries to relinquish it to me immediately, and I nearly accept because as much as I love him, the thought of him running our house and rebuilding Nithyria terrifies me, but I have far too much to be responsible for already.
“You can handle it,” I assure him as we sit around the war-council table once more for the final negotiations. “You’ll spend most of your time at court anyway.” This is true, not just because Ronan intends to keep his court closer from now on, formalizing them and a panel of representatives of the common folk into an advisory council, but also because Taran will be going with him, at least in the beginning to help manage relations with the Orsa.
“Am I dismissed from your service, sir?” asks Taran, his voice shy.
“If you’d like to be.” He lowers his voice so that only those of us closest can hear him. “You’ve served me for years. Wouldn’t you rather stand beside me as a friend and advisor? My ambassador to the Orsa?”
There’s something else in what Ronan says, and I can sense in Taran’s feelings that he has understood it: wouldn’t you rather go be happy with the man you love?
“I suppose so.”
A smile flashes across Seth’s face. “Oh, thank the gods. I’m going to need someone to handle the land negotiations. And the market suppliers. And the defenses—”
“On second thought, I’d prefer to remain in your service, your majesty.”
“Don’t you dare.” Seth kisses Taran over his protests, and we all groan when their kiss deepens. “I don’t want to hear a damn word from you, sister. Not after what I’ve had to put up with.”
“Why would she complain? I’m having a great time,” says Quinn, her chin resting on her hands like she’s watching the best show on earth.
Adria coughs from across the table, embarrassed by all of us and ready to be out of here.
“What will you do with your freedom?” asks Quinn, her voice bitter. “I still think you ought to sentence her to a few years of hard labor at least.” I notice that despite her continuous barbs at Adria, she never suggests her execution.
No one does except Cyrus, who points out that being involved in one rebellion and leading a second isn’t a forgivable offense, but Ronan silences him by reminding him of the legions still at her command and his own offenses that he has been forgiven for.
“I don’t know what I’ll do,” says Adria in a surprising display of candor. “This war has been my entire life. I don’t know who I am without it.”
“You could always consider a life at sea,” says Octavia. “Mama Adama’s Third Navy will be looking for more captains.” We received word from Quinn that Mama Adama has assumed command of Felix’s mercenary fleet in exchange for sparing his life.
