“What can we say? The Crucible has sparked inspiration.” Cancassi picks up a pen before they start marking the parchment I’ve given them. “It’ll befascinatingto see what magic comes of it. And, good gods, did you saytwenty?”
“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” I chuckle. “But people need to keep in mind that we’re trying toenticepeople, not scandalize them.”
“Maybe alittlescandal, as a treat. There’s something terribly exciting about putting on a show for the uninitiated,” they say before they finish their list with a flourish. “There. All my debaucheries.”
Cancassi isn’t the only one with ideas. Everyone who signs up to perform has a short essay of them. And when Garrett arrives back from the construction site later in the evening, I don’t look up from Ambra’s activity list.
“We work with a bunch of deviants,” I mutter.
Garrett chuckles as he comes to sit across from me. “You sound surprised.”
I rub my head. “Not surprised. Not even mad, really. They’re creative, but I’m having a hard time striking a balance between ‘enticing’ and ‘offending,’” I say before I give a wry grin. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think an on-stage piss-party would go over well for a first show.”
Garrett barks a laugh. “Nope. Absolutely not. Far too much cleanup.”
I chuckle and set the stack of activity lists aside as I sink back into the chair. “How’d the groundbreaking go?”
“About as smooth as it could have,” he says. “We have a foundation laid, though we need more raw materials before we can transmute the walls.”
Through my exhaustion, the flame of excitement flickers back to life. “This is really happening.”
Garrett grins at me from across the desk. “How does it feel?”
We still have so much to do, but the pieces are moving. I let out a small laugh. “It feels like good progress.”
“It sure is,” he says. “I had my reservations about this, but... this project has lifted the mood around the Crux. People are excited.”
Hearing that is like a balm. “I hoped I wasn’t imagining it,” I admit. “I know we’re all... stressed right now. So much is happening that we have so little control over.”
“And now you’ve given the Crux something theydohave control over,” Garrett says. “The Crucible is a smart move, Gal.”
My cheeks flush with warmth. “Thank you. Hopefully Arlon feels the same when he gets back.”
Garrett tsks. “You got to stop thinking about what Arlon would like. He’s not the acting Grandmaster right now.Youare.”
Sitting in Arlon’s chair still feels wrong some days, but I try to push the doubt aside. Then, the air over the desk ripples.
“Speak of the sun and it shines,” Garrett says before he gets up and circles around the desk to join me.
I straighten as Arlon’s face materializes in the sending. He’s dressed in a fine maroon tunic that’s adorned with black leather accents. His hair is coiffed, his beard cut to a neat and even length. His smile is tired but genuine as he focuses on the two of us.
“Looking good, Arlon,” Garrett says. “I’ll tell Bri you like the wardrobe she got you.”
Arlon snorts a laugh before another figure appears in the sending. My mouth drops open.
“Olbric,” I breathe, and I’m so happy to see him that I almost miss how stunning he looks. Ambra and I may have taught him the basics of makeup when we first dressed him up, but he’s since far surpassed my skill with it. He looks soft and feminine, wearing a gown of sunflower silk that’s a beautiful contrast to his long black hair. Over his bare shoulders rests a web of thin, golden chains.
“It’s good to see your face, Gal,” he says, and I’m smiling so wide it feels like my cheeks are going to crack. Seeing them both well and whole helps ease some of the tension between my shoulder blades.
“The King wishes to get a message to the Queen Mother,” Arlon says. “Let’s get that out of the way first.”
“Right,” I say before I pull out a piece of parchment and quill. “Ready.”
The official message isn’t promising. The talks have stagnated. The King of Immenbach has been intransigent in his demands, which are namely: unfettered access to magiline, forfeiture of the easternandwestern slopes of the Hobokin mountains andevery minethey contain, including the major city of Frostcliff. All of that on top of the death of Allisande Maxwell .
“Please tell me the King isn’t considering that last demand,” I say, voice tight.
“He flat out refused,” Arlon says through a sigh. “And gods willing, the death of his kin isn’t something he’ll haggle on. I’m hoping that when the Immen heir finally arrives, he’ll be able to talk some sense into his father, though gods only know what’s holding him up.”
