“Yes, this would be commonplace,” Joseba confirmed, in his earnest way. He held himself stiffly in the chair, careful of his healing knife wound, as if he was afraid he might become too worked up in explanation. “King Sendoa did as much after ascending the throne, as did Louis-David of Pyrenee. A more recent example, of course, would be King Akil, who did so even while under the regency of his mother.”
Of course, Tala knew all this. And it was probably what Luca’s father had done when he gained the throne his family held for a thousand years. “If Torrence still had standing cities, the first two weeks after your coronation would consist of meeting your people, my Otsakumea.”
“But these are not normal times, Tala.” Amarande understood his point of view, but she wondered if he had been so intensely focused on his goal of repairing the kingdom for so long that he suddenly failed to see how Torrence fit into the continent it shared. “We are on a knife’s edge, as you say.”
“A metaphor I stole from you, Your Highness.” It sounded to Amarande like both a compliment and as if he were purposefully tossing her words from her own coronation back in her face.
Exhausted from the coronation, the stonewalling from her allies, and now the pushback from Tala’s never-ending insistence, Amarande found her thin patience worn entirely. She bared her teeth, ready to leave a mark.
But before she could dull the sharp words that cut across her tongue, Ferdinand stepped in with the same steady cadence as Koldo.
“I must point out to the table that I was most recently crowned king on this continent, and we forwent any tour.” Beside him, Koldo nodded. Even Joseba joined in, his ruddy cheeks paling at the realization that he should have included Ferdinand in his previous listof kings. “We didn’t even have a feast to celebrate—and things were more stable continent-wide when I was crowned than today.”
It was just the type of recent precedent Luca needed to make his support his choice. “Tala, while I appreciate your honesty and persistence, again I must decline.”
Luca was just as level-headed here as he was with everything, even as Amarande tamped down poorly disguised anger beneath her skin. His diplomacy was natural. He was easygoing, yes, and unused to negotiating from a place of power. And yet he excelled naturally. In that moment, Amarande realized that though he had publicly stated he wanted to learn fromher,she had much to learn fromhim.
“There will be time to hear every concern under the Torrentian sun,” Luca continued. “In fact, I have quite the head start after spending so much time with you and your resistance. But we must alter our expectations. Amarande is not going out and meeting with her people, and in the far-flung reaches they might just be getting the false news that she is dead. That is precisely why the dissemination of information through the parchments we’ve created is so important—we need all areas of each kingdom and the entire continent to be on the same page.”
Luca nodded here, watching the man, unflinching as he spoke to him as a partner as much as an advisor. Despite it all. Koldo watched, jaw clenched.
“Additionally, we need the rebuilt Sand and Sky to work for all of us. I must do my part and prepare for the conclave so that I can start Torrence off on the best footing possible during a very uneasy time. Therefore, I would ask that you, Tala, go with Ula to represent me with our people. Find them, invite them to the Hand in six days’ time—we will meet them the day before the conclave—and tell them the good news. The Warlord is no more, the Otsakumea has returned, and their way of life will become easier, calmer, and as they envision it rather than as they are forced to be. They have been waiting for me for seventeen years, now I am theirs. A few days of preparation and study instead of pomp and campaign will not change that even if it is not traditional.” Not yet finished, Luca reached a hand across the table toward Tala, a gesture of solidarity. “Hitz ematen dizut.”
At first, Amarande couldn’t believe that was it. No more revived arguments or placating spins meant to force his desired result. But after a moment, Tala placed his hands flat upon the highly polished table.
“I would be honored to serve you in such a way, my Otsakumea.Hitz ematen dizut.”
Amarande nearly breathed a sigh of relief.
Luca, for his part, simply said, “Thank you.”
Koldo rubbed a spec of nonexistent dirt from her impeccable uniform.
“We will gather a party, plan a route, and leave at first light,” Ula said, breaking up Luca’s softening of Tala’s ego.
“The party is here. I am the party,” Urtzi added, raising his hand high as if he were a child in lessons with Old Zuzen.
“Yes, you are, Urtzi,” Luca agreed with a laugh. The Myrcellian was always good for one of those. “Tala, you will gather the others?”
“Of course, my Otsakumea.”
Amarande turned again to her brother. “Ferdinand, before you begin tracking Geneva, will you coordinate with Tala on contacting the resistance watchers and establish a plan for sharing information? I assume we still have caracaras?”
“We do. Though some conveniently slipped their cages, likely by Geneva’s hand—”
“The resistance,” Tala cut in, a boastful smile sliding in place now where his argumentative weariness had just been, “has plenty of birds at our disposal, black as night and as stealthy as a winter ghost.”
“Excellent.” Amarande rapped a ringed knuckle atop the table and nodded at the collective group. “If all goes according to plan, the continent will have a stronger foundation than it has seen in a thousand years, and Ardenia and Torrence shall be its cornerstones.”
CHAPTER 6
STRAIGHTAWAYafter the meeting, Ferdinand and Osana had their saddlebags packed with the provisions they needed for days on the road. Hardtack, rind-stiff cheese, dried foods—meat, fruit, nuts. Four waterskins apiece. An assortment of weapons—a sword each, boot knives, additional daggers, the supplies for sleeping darts, too.
Now, all they needed was to determine the best direction to go.
General Koldo had shared all the materials she had collected during the initial investigation into Geneva’s whereabouts. But there was one final piece they needed before they could start. Which is why they met at the Port of Ardenia harbor as the sun was falling and Inés’s armada fractured apart, three distinct groups each pointed home.
“My, my,” Osana called, with a teasing lilt to her voice, “do my eyes deceive me or is that the First Knight and Protector of the Crown, standing there so regally in garnet and gold upon the quay?”
