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Riven’s jaw bulged, but he nodded.
“And if it does not need amendments?” Syrra pronounced every syllable slowly, holding her anger in a tight cage. Her full lips were drawn straight and a small dimple appeared beside her mouth.
“If you were confident in your plans, Riven would’ve never considered the alliance in the first place. You’re either lacking manpower or lacking ideas. Probably both.” Syrra rolled her eyes at me. “Either way, youneedme.”
I stared Riven down. This was the true choice. Once he told me his plans, they couldn’t turn back. Or Syrra would have to take her chances on killing me. I didn’t move. This was my only shot.
Riven took the seat across from me. His large frame hunched over the table. He pointed at the two empty spots, his eyes darting between his comrades. Nikolai picked up his chair from where it still lay on the ground. Syrra didn’t move, refusing to look away from me. Small crinkles appeared along the thin bridge of her long nose.
“Syrra,” Riven murmured. “Sit.”
She held my eye for another moment, making sure I saw her hand resting on the handle of her blade before taking her seat.
“Like I told you,” Riven said, laying his fist on the table, “we don’t think it’s enough to kill the king. We want to take down the entire institution. Make sure there is no way anyone else can take power and enslave the Halflings again.”
His eyes flicked to mine. All I could do was nod. My stomach churned too much to speak.
“Nik”—Riven tipped his head toward him—“you’re the mastermind. Explain it to her.”
Nikolai took a deep breath, smoothing the front of his shirt. I noticed the Elvish dagger holster at his belt. I had seen the braided, wooden handle before—in Cereliath. Nikolai had been the hooded figure trading secrets with Curringham’s assistant. When his eyes met mine, all his flirtation was gone. They were focused. Calculating.
“We want to destabilize trade to the capital,” Nikolai started. “Food, mainly. Fan the flames of anger that are already present against the king. Show the king to be merciless and useless, especially to the Halflings. Help people. Feed them. If enough of them feel like there’s hope, they will join us.” I nodded, and Nikolai broke into the specifics of his plan.
I listened without interrupting. They had been responsible for more of the Crown’s issues than I believed. Working for two years before Riven had to take up his false identity to have someone to blame it on. Nikolai didn’t get into the details of their contacts or how widespread their networks were, but it was clear they had infiltrated most of Elverath’s cities.
They had been sending supplies and Halflings through Silstra and Cereliath—sometimes all the way from Mortal’s Landing. The supplies I knew about—the barge in Cereliath had been stocked with food—but I was surprised to hear they were moving so many Halflings.
They were more prepared than I thought. Their plan was ludicrous, but it was a shot.
More than I’d ever had before.
“What do you think?” Riven asked, his voice rough. He chewed on his lip while I chewed on my thoughts. I had to be careful with them. Gentle.
Not exactly my strong suit.
“I think it’s a plan,” I said as diplomatically as I could.
“A plan?” Syrra snarled. “That is all you have to say?” Maybe I’d beentoogentle.
“How many people do you have?” I asked. I would needsomedetails to help strategize.
“With us? Thirty,” Riven answered sheepishly. Most of his contacts must be paid off. Smugglers and crooked Mortals willing to look the other way. There were enough of them. I spent most of my life hunting such kinds of people.
“That’s not enough,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek. “How many people could you rally? Here, and in the kingdom?”
“If we had a month?” Riven said, pausing to think. “Two hundred or so. But that would mean rescuing Halflings would need to stop. No refugees could be smuggled into Aralinth if I pulled them out.”
“Isn’t the point to free the Halflings?” I pushed back. This wouldn’t be the only time we had to weigh the cost of lives.
“You think we need to reprioritize?” Nikolai cut in. He wrapped his arm around the back of Syrra’s chair. She didn’t move against it, but I caught a look between them.
Unexpected, I thought. Nikolai didn’t seem to be her type. If she ever stopped thinking about bloodshed long enough to have a type.
“We need to go bigger,” I said. Riven’s dark brows pressed against his hairline. “Even if no one got killed or captured, which is unlikely, attacking trade transports isn’t big enough. Thirty men? We’d be lucky if we stopped half as many transports.”
“It’s been working so far,” Syrra said.
“When you were trying toweakenthe Crown.” I leaned forward. “Small moves over time to protect your anonymity. If we’re going to bring the Crown to its knees, we have to be willing to show our hand.”
