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"Well, we aren't," Selina Aevar says. She's also a second-born, but unlike Rovan, she's been given no reason to resent her position. She and her elder sister get along. "So, we have to take care of this before it blows up in our faces."
She gestures to the coffee table in front of her, and I leave Reiks’s side to look at it, frowning. "Is that from the rebels?"
A map of Xhera has been laid out, and I note that every capital was circled in bold pen. Magnapolis is crossed in red, but my attention stays on the circle over the Dark Keep.
Selina nods and I consider it again.
None of this makes sense. At first glance, I would have taken this for a plan of attack, missing tons of information, but with obvious targets. But who could hope to takemycity, and to what purpose? The kingdom is ruled from the Whyte Fort these days.
"We need to make copies," Reiks decrees. "And call for council sessions in our respective kingdoms, and here in Magna."
It is the first relevant information we’ve managed to ferret out, and we need a lot more.
I can't say I'm as invested as the rest of my companions. For years now, an alliance of dissatisfied commons has taken to attacking nobles and demis, targeting us in various ways in order to seize the control of the world. Mostly they fail, but they're a nuisance all the same. There have been a few attempts at disruption by rebels in Ravelyn, but not as much as on the mainland, no doubt because our number of commons is far lesser.
I turn to the Dorathian prince, assuming that this piece of intelligence came from him. "Get your spy to keep digging."
I could have attempted to phrase my order like a request, but Aeron's mere presence irritates me.
There are few on Xhera whose company I relish and one of them was his half-brother. Now our friend Loken's disappeared after wild accusations for crimes he'd never commit—not without cause—and this smarmy git is next in line to sit on the throne of Dorath.
Not that in matters. That throne is nothing more than a seat. The true power of their country lies elsewhere, as I've learned every time my kingdom has needed anything from Dorath. Business is to be discussed with the merchant's guild, and everything else happens at the pleasure of the Wicked in charge of the assassin's guild. I don't need to force myself to treat that boy like an equal.
Reiks sends me an amused look, in clear agreement, before concluding the meeting with a terse, "I'll send Talon out. Call him if you have more."
Everyone else leaves, but these are my rooms, so I linger until I'm alone with the massive Anderkanian.
"You look like shit," he tells me.
I chuckle. I've barely slept, and I can count on him to call me out on it. "Still hotter than you."
The picture of confidence, Reiks leans back against the wall, chin up. In many ways, we're opposites, he and I: his dark curls to my white-blond hair, a warm tan to my constant pallor, and a considerable bulk to my lithe figure. His cold eyes are grey, and mine a bright ocean blue. Rare are those who'd guess our mothers were sisters, both concubines to cold kings. I like to keep it that way. Someone tried to ensure I had no family left once. I won't make it easy for anyone to track down those of my blood again.
"What can I do for you?" he asks, always delighted to offer favors, collecting them like trophies.
He knows he could ask me whatever he wishes without my owing him anything, but men like Reiks are incapable of ceasing their machinations.
"I need to get in touch with Valina Frejr—her, specifically, not her sons, or daughters, or whatever other shields she likes to place between herself and the world."
The fact that I can't gain direct access to the witch although I am king grates, but there's nothing I can do about it. Valina rules a remote land surrounded by elder magiks, and heads the most powerful clan on the mortal kingdoms. She may not wear a crown, but she might as well. If she doesn't want to be disturbed, there's nothing the rest of us can do.
Reiks snorts. "Oh, is that all? Would you also like the keys to the eternal realm and the heart of a dragon?"
I shrug. "You managed to talk to her."
"Well, she wanted to talk to me." He scratches his chin. "How about calling for the international council? We need to spread the word about the map, and she almost always attends it."
The idea has merit, though it places me in a position I don't care to occupy.
I'd have to take a stand on this silly rebellion that barely affects me.
Which means Reiks has placed me exactly where he wants me on the board.
I don't have much of a choice, though. If I want to ask Valina what she was doing in Ravelyn the day my family was slaughtered—and what she might have seen—I need to either go to her or make her travel here.
Only one of those options isn't suicidal.
"Sometimes, I hate you, cousin."
