Max doesn’t look away. “That’s one option.”
Amba’s eyes ignite like firecrackers. I tense as she advances on Max. She must make herself grow a little taller as she strides across the room, because by the time she stops in front of him, they are exactly eye to eye. He doesn’t even flinch.
Her voice is full of wrath. “How dare you.”
He doesn’t reply, doesn’t look away.
Amba abruptly spins on her heel to face me. “Have I ever told you the story of my brother Valin?”
“Is that important now?” Max snaps.
She ignores him and addresses me. “He was a god of wisdom and choices, proud and clever, until the day he made the choice that cost him his life. And gods are not supposed to lose their lives.” Her mouth presses into a sad, bitter line. “A hundred years ago, when Winter cut off trade with Kali and refused to supply this realm with goods or fuel, there was a war. It started to turn ugly. Valin intervened.”
“Why?”
“He always had a soft spot for Kali.” Amba lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “He stepped in. He planned battles and strategized and minimized the loss of life. He was able to achieve all this with his godhood intact because he never actually involved himself physically in the battle. And then he did.”
“How?”
“One of the other goddesses had been helping Winter. Loussa, goddess of the arts. She was in love with a Winter princess. She transformed one of their archers into a likeness of a royal cousin of the Reys so that he could sneak past the king’s guards. Once inside, he tried to shoot the king of Kali. Valin reached out and plucked the arrow out of the air. And became mortal for his pains.”
A god did an act of good and lost his entire world for his troubles. “What happened to him?”
“The battle ended shortly thereafter, in large part due to Valin’s help. Valin himself would have aged and died eventually, in constant agony, cut off from the celestial realms, with no mortal family or friends to spend the remainder of his life with, but then Kirrin stepped in. They both ruled the Empty Moon once, you know. Valin and Kirrin. My brothers. They were devoted to each other. When Valin lost his godhood, Kirrin gave him a blessed dagger and asked him to put it in his own heart.”
“He asked the brother he loved to kill himself?”
“The knife was blessed,” Amba repeats. “It was Kirrin’s boon. It ended Valin’s life but gave him another. One where he could be born mortal, to a mortal mother, and grow up surrounded by mortal family and mortal friends. Kirrin gave him a chance to be happy. A reward for the sacrifice he had made.”
“So Valin died, was reborn somewhere else, and had a happy mortal life until he eventually died again?”
“Not quite,” Amba says, and then she stops, releasing a breath like all the anger has gone out of her. “Never mind. It isn’t relevant. What is relevant is the fact that I would be making the same mistake Valin did if I were to physically intervene in your duel.” Her eyes flash back to Max. “You have no business asking it of me. I am not inclined to throw away my immortality like my brother did.”
“You sound angry with him,” I say tentatively.
“I killed our father to save him,” Amba says. “I raised him. I raised all five of them. I loved them all and then he left. He left me. Of course I’m angry.”
Max’s jaw unclenches, his eyes softening with regret. He doesn’t mention Amba’s immortality again.
She turns back to me. “Have you told Rama about the vision?”
“Not yet,” I admit.
She tuts, and I don’t blame her; I’ve put it off too long. I promise myself I’ll tell him when I see him tomorrow, and Sybilla too. Imagining it fills me with dread. Don’t let me lose her, Rama had said to Titania. But there’s nothing Titania can do about this.
“At any rate,” Amba says, addressing Max again, “I fail to see what you’re so worried about. Don’t you know Esmae has sworn she won’t fall prey to that fate?”
Max looks startled. “You swore?”
I nod. And I’m no less determined to hold to it than I was when I said it. “Vows are sealed in stone the moment the gods and the universe hear them, aren’t they? I said it. I swore I wouldn’t die that way.”
I sound fierce, and I wonder if I sound completely mad, too. How can I possibly deflect something two gods have seen?
And yet, when Max’s eyes meet mine, I see that the smile there has flickered back to life.
“You think I can do it,” I say in wonder.
“I believed in you the day I met you, Esmae. I believe in you now.”
It’s a beautiful thing to hear him say, but it isn’t necessary. There’s already a voice inside my head, and it’s been there for some time now. It says, I believe in me too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bereft of a victory in Skylark, Lord Selwyn’s contrition rapidly fades away. I know it’s only a matter of time before he suggests a new plan of aggression and finds a way to manipulate Elvar into giving him permission to put it into effect. Anyone could be his new target. Tamini or Winter, for supporting Alexi. Some other poor territory that he feels must be made an example of. Alexi himself.
It’s unbearable to sit here and wait. Wait to die. Wait for someone to set loose the warship I won for them. Watch as the people I love wait for the days to run out. Max, Rama, and Sybilla all look afraid when they think I’m not watching, and they spend far too much time looking at the clock. I hoped it would help to tell them all the truth, but I just feel worse, because now they have to share my fear. Now they wait for the inevitable with me.
There is not much I can do about the gods’ vision, so I put my mind to the problem of the war. Lord Selwyn has to be stopped.
Unfortunately, I don’t know how to remove him from the equation. Elvar and Guinne would never agree to imprison him or exile him from Kali. And I’m not sure I can bring myself to murder him in cold blood. So what other options are there? What can I possibly do to end this war?
I should have let Elvar die, I tell myself, but there’s no ring of truth to the words anymore. I don’t believe them.
And as it happens, there’s really no better way to gain someone’s trust than to save them.
I sit with Elvar in his private rooms every afternoon as he recovers from the effects of the poison, helping him complete his daily paperwork. He talks to me while we work, telling me more of his fears and hopes than he’s ever shared before.
“He’s coming for me,” he tells me one afternoon. His blindfold twitches. “Alexi. He’ll come sooner or later. And he will kill me. You know about his Golden Bow? It can destroy any enemy. He doesn’t need to touch them. He doesn’t even need to be close. He merely needs to be able to see them.”
“Alexi has far too much honor to use it on you,” I assure him. “He would fight you properly—”
“You haven’t seen the monsters people become when they want something so badly they’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Even Alexi, our brave, honorable Alexi, will lose his better self when what he wants is almost within reach.” Something terribly tired and terribly sad crosses Elvar’s face. “We all do.”
He’s ashamed. He sincerely believes he was unjustly deprived of the crown that should have been his by virtue of his birth, but he’s nevertheless ashamed of what he’s done. His guilt softens the hard edges of my anger.
“Uncle,” I say, “do you remember the soothsayer?”
He looks surprised. “Of course.”
“What did she tell you? What advice could she possibly have given that was worth ten thousand silvers?”
Elvar’s smile is rueful. “I didn’t want to tell anyone. It’s not unusual to hear of a future you want and find yourself terrified you’ll shatter it if you speak it out loud.”
“I understand. Probably better than you know.”
“I’ll make an exception for you, my dear,” he says. “I think you’ll find it interesting. She painted me a picture of my army spread acro
ss the galaxy, dismantling my enemies and shattering Alexi. She told me that future wasn’t certain, but it was there. A very real possibility just ahead.”
My fingers clutch the papers in my hand, but I don’t dare breathe lest he hear my horror. Was Kirrin being truthful? He said he never lies. Does that mean Elvar’s victory is really that likely?
“I don’t see how that’s worth ten thousand silvers,” I say when I can finally trust that my voice won’t give me away.
Elvar shakes his head. “It isn’t. She didn’t stop there. She told me that if I wanted to keep the crown and claim that future, I needed to trust you.”
I freeze. “Me?”
“You,” he repeats. “She said, ‘Trust Esmae, and Alexi will break. Trust her even when you fear she’s gone astray. Trust your niece, and she will shatter your enemy for you.’”
I stare at him in stunned silence. Trust your niece, and she will shatter your enemy for you.
“You’re shocked,” he says.
“Yes.”
“I must admit I was, too.” He gives me a fond smile. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I didn’t trust you at first. Selwyn, you see, rightfully pointed out how easy it would be for you to take Titania and leave us for your brother. And you always seemed so suspiciously eager to vote against aggression in the council. I love you dearly, but trust doesn’t come easily to me.”
“I’m not offended, Uncle. I don’t blame you.”
“But then you saved my life and risked your own to pin down that treacherous guard. I can’t fathom why you would do that if not out of loyalty, and I believe now that the soothsayer was right. I trust you. And I believe that if I trust you, you will win this war for me.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Of course not, but a future was seen and I believe I know how to claim that future. You could be an unstoppable force on my side, Esmae. You could even be queen of Kali after I’m gone.”
I wince. “No, I could not. If you love Max at all, Uncle, don’t ever repeat what you just said. I don’t think he wants to be a king, but it would break his heart if you cast him aside. He deserves more than that.”
“Then I will simply put my trust in you,” Elvar says, “and let you play any part you wish.”
I always knew, of course, that Kirrin was a trickster, but I never appreciated just how devious he could be.
Oh, Elvar. You never stood a chance against the god of tricks.
“Thank you for trusting me, Uncle,” I say softly. “I’ll always try to do what’s best for Kali.”
Power is a funny thing. I always imagined it would feel good to have it, since I’d grown up with none, but the power I’ve held by possessing Titania has only made me afraid, and the power I hold in my hands now is jagged with guilt.
I only ever wanted to be master of my own fate, and that’s the one kind of power I don’t seem to have at the moment.
When I leave Elvar’s suite, I go to the gods’ altar in the conservatory and lock the door behind me.
“Kirrin,” I say.
I blink, and he’s there, eyes brimming with mischief. “Hello, Esmae.”
“Funny bit of advice,” I reply. “‘Trust your niece,’ was it? I imagine he’ll find it difficult to do that if I’m dead in a week or so.”
“True. But if you live, you will do exactly what I told him.”
I show my teeth. “Irrelevant if you and Amba have seen my death set in stone.”
“Also true,” he says. His unrepentant grin fades. “Let me be clear, Esmae, I do not take any pleasure in the sad future ahead of you. I’m sorry for my glee. I’m pleased with the trick I played on your uncle, that’s all. I do not rejoice in the idea of your death.”
“You knew I’d find out about this. You knew I would ask him about your advice sooner or later. You knew he would tell me. You must know, then, that I will find a way to use his trust in me in the little time I have left.”
“I had a feeling you were extremely resourceful when I first met you,” says the god smugly. “I’m relying on it.”
I study him, profoundly mistrustful. “What do you hope to gain from this? Why do you want me to have power over Elvar, however briefly? I assume you want me to help Alexi.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to do the whole time?”
“Yes, but I have no intention of letting you dictate the terms. Elvar ignored your advice until I saved him. I did that, not you.”
Kirrin grins. “Let me reassure you. You are free to do as you wish with this power you have over your uncle. Make the most of it in the little time you have left. All I want from you in return for helping you is a favor.”
“A favor,” I repeat.
“A favor that I will claim from you at some point before you die. One favor. That’s all.”
I consider. “You can’t ask me to hurt anyone.” He nods. “And,” I add, pointedly, “I won’t lose a battle or duel on purpose.”
He looks offended. “I would never ask that of anyone. I don’t hold with cheating.”
“You’re the god of tricks!”
“A trick is fair,” he replies. “Tricks have rules. You can avoid being tricked if you see the trick in time. Cheating breaks rules. As for the matter at hand, I will gladly abide by your conditions. Do you agree to owe me a favor?”
I hesitate, then say, “Yes.”
“Thank you,” says Kirrin. He pauses. “You know, you didn’t have to agree. You could have refused me.”
“I could have, but that wouldn’t have been fair. You’ve helped me, whatever your motives are, so I owe you.”
He smiles and says gently, “Never let anyone make you feel like you are less than Alexi, Esmae. He’s not the only Rey with honor.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left with the inevitable question. What do I do with this power I have?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Two days later, at the next meeting of the war council, I’m prepared. I’ve charted a new game of Warlords and I intend to win.
Grandmother squints at the agenda. “It would appear you have something you wish to discuss with us, Ez-may.”
All heads turn toward me. Elvar’s blindfold twitches as he frowns, Lord Selwyn looks irritated, and my great-grandmother is almost bouncing with curiosity. Most of the others just seem puzzled.
I don’t dare look at Max or Rickard. I feel awful about the way I’m about to blindside them.
I press my hands flat on the table in front of me. “I think we should negotiate with Alexi.”
“We tried that years ago,” says one of the advisers. “He will not discuss terms with us.”
“Come, come, we must forgive the princess for her ignorance,” says Lord Selwyn, the points of his teeth glittering in a smile. “She is still new to our world and does not yet realize that there are matters here beyond her very limited understanding.”
I smile sweetly at him. “I’d like to believe that while we don’t always see eye to eye on the issues we discuss here, we all want what’s best for Kali. Is that not so, Lord Selwyn?”
His eyes narrow. “Of course.”
Liar.
“Letting our armies rip this realm apart is not what’s best for Kali,” I go on. “The best thing we could possibly do for this kingdom is to end this war before anyone else dies.”
“I agree, wholeheartedly,” says Rickard, his voice deep and warm. “Unfortunately, the point about negotiation stands. We’ve tried. I am Alexi’s teacher and I have tried to talk to him about this more times than I can count, but he is not interested in coming to mutually agreeable terms.”
“He’s not interested in the terms you’ve offered so far,” I reply. “What if we offered him something he actually wants?”
“He wants the crown,” Lord Selwyn snaps. “Do you intend to offer him that?”
“Yes.”
Everyone stares at me.
“Sort of.” I steady my breath. I’ve spent the past two days hammering this plan out in m
y mind. It’s an outrageous idea, but I don’t have the luxury of time. And while this may never work, it’s all I can think of that might end this war now before we all pay a terrible price. “I think my brother and uncle could share the crown.”
Lord Selwyn snorts. “Share the crown? They are not children fighting over a toy!”
“A thousand years ago, in the old kingdom of Kuru, there was a dispute over who would rule,” I explain. “I read about it just a couple days ago. Two sisters wished to claim the throne of Kuru, and no one wanted war. They agreed that the sisters would share the crown. One would have five years on the throne, then the other would take over, back and forth, back and forth. It worked well for them and I don’t see why it can’t work for us.”
For a moment, the room is completely silent, and then the old queen roars with laughter. No one else seems to know how to react.
“I love it,” she says between cackles of laughter.
Rickard sits back in his chair, stunned. “Could that even work?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Uncle Elvar and Alexi would have to agree. I know it’s not what either side wants, but I don’t see any other way around a war. And is there a fairer alternative? Who really deserves the crown? Elvar is a rightful heir who was stripped of his birthright for no crime of his own, and Alexi is a rightful heir who had his birthright taken from him for no crime of his own. Which of them has a greater claim to the throne? There’s been a great deal of betrayal and pain on both sides, but maybe that can be put aside for the sake of a better future.”
“Madness,” Lord Selwyn hisses, his face livid. “Absolute madness. This is a trick to get her brothers back on Kali. They will murder us all as soon as we let them set foot here. I told you she was on his side, my king.”
“Alexi has far too much honor to break a vow,” Rickard says. “If he agrees to this, he will respect it.”
Lord Selwyn turns sharply. “Nephew, you’ve been very quiet. I think it’s time you reminded the princess that it is not she who rules this kingdom and makes the decisions here.”
Max has indeed been very quiet. I finally dare to look at him and see that his eyes are dark and furious. His jaw is set, but his voice is almost too calm as he says, “I don’t intend to remind the princess of any such thing, Uncle. What I will do is suggest that we give the king a chance to speak. Father?”