Rune remembered. Embria was notorious for responding forcefully. Violently.
“No matter what facts we offer,” the grand general went on, “they will twist these events and motivations into something sinister, and they will respond in a way that only they could view as proportional. They will set fire to our farms. They will dump poison into the Bluestone River. They will murder our people until they reach you, my prince, and then they will throw you in a malsite, too. An heir for an heir. We cannot permit that.”
A chill worked up Rune’s spine, visions of Tide’s dark prophecy playing out in the back of his mind. He’d spent enough time with the Embrian monarchs that he couldn’t fully disagree. The queen had been, to put it bluntly, terrifying. She was as beautiful as Princess Johanne, but a thousand times more severe. When she’d looked at him, he had the distinct impression that she was imagining what his innards would look like spilled on the floor.
“Perhaps there is another option,” Rupert said, breaking Rune’s morbid reverie. “Princess Johanne was an only child, so there is no substitute of equal rank, but Lady Nadine is her cousin. She may not be royalty, but she is as close of a relation as we could ask for, and beloved to the princess.”
Rune’s eyebrows shot up. Marry Lady Nadine instead? “You think Embria would accept a different marriage?”
“A new contract would need to be drafted.” Rupert gave a piercing smile. “But wouldn’t that be preferable to all-out war? We should do everything possible to maintain our current tenuous peace with Embria. Especially given the gravity of the situation in Ivasland.”
“Hmm.” King Opus leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands together. “Continue that line of thought.”
“A lady-in-waiting is no princess, of course,” Rupert went on. “We’d need to make concessions, but perhaps we could arrange something that would be agreeable to both Caberwill and Embria, especially if we can remind them that the threat to the Winterfast Accords looms even larger. Perhaps there is even a way to shift the blame for Princess Johanne’s disappearance to Ivasland.”
“Think on it,” the king instructed. Then he turned back to the grand general. “Tide, you look concerned.”
Grand General Emberwish nodded slowly. “Avoiding war would be preferable, of course.”
“Of course,” people all around the council chamber murmured.
“I’m sure Lady Nadine is a fine young woman.” Tide leaned back, too, mirroring the king’s posture. “However, if we approach King Markus and Queen Katarina with Lady Nadine as a potential substitute, we will lose our chance of making a preemptive strike. They will know that Princess Johanne is gone, putting the power of war or peace into their hands.”
“That is a good point.” Queen Grace’s pewter eyes were hard as she gazed over the room. “I do not like giving Katarina and Markus the upper hand.”
“The real threat comes from the south,” Rupert pressed. “We should take the risk and offer peace.”
“They will reject it,” Charity said. “Yes, peace is the more desirable outcome, of course, but as the grand general said, these are not reasonable people. If we try to contract Lady Nadine instead, they will likely attack us first.”
Rune’s fingernails dug into his palms. Apparently, everyone had accepted that Princess Johanne was lost. No one was willing to even entertain the idea of a rescue. Not that he knew how, but once, hundreds of years ago, there had been someone who could destroy malsites.
Rupert’s expression did not change. “I could speak with the Embrian delegation, get a sense of their receptiveness. We will be monitoring their communications to Solcast, so there will be little opportunity for any of them to warn the Embrian royalty, regarding Lady Nadine, before we’re ready.”
King Opus and Queen Grace met each other’s eyes again, and finally the king said, “If I believed Katarina and Markus would be willing to accept a substitute bride, then I would encourage you to try. But Tide is right: they are not reasonable people, and I’m loathe to give them an advantage.”
“Sire—”
“I’ve made my decision, Rupert. We can vote on it, if you insist, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary.” The king pressed his hands flat on the table and looked around. No one spoke. Then Opus turned to the grand general. “Tide, ready our troops to march on Embria. The war will continue.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
No, this couldn’t be it. This wasn’t nearly the type of reaction needed to protect the kingdom. The Crown Council couldn’t just leave Princess Johanne to rot in that malsite, not if there was a way to rescue her! And—to make matters worse—they’d completely ignored the thing that had driven her in there.
“And what of the creature Lady Nadine described?” Rune asked loudly, before the council could be dismissed. “She called it a monster. It could still be out there.”
Queen Grace smiled pityingly. “The poor girl’s probably never seen a wolf before. Or a bear.”
“I agree with Her Majesty,” said Charity, which wasn’t a surprise. She always agreed with Her Majesty. “Wildcats roam that part of the Deepway this time of year. That’s likely what she saw.”
“Lady Nadine described a different sort of creature—” Rune started, but the king shook his head, halting the words.
“No, the princess fled a wildcat,” Opus said. “There is nothing else to discuss on that front.”
Rune gritted his teeth. He knew he shouldn’t say it—there’d been enough fights over the years—but he was so burning exhausted and done being used as a political game piece. “It was a rancor, I’m sure of it.”
The council chamber went absolutely silent.
King Opus let out a long sigh, while Queen Grace closed her eyes as though resorting to prayer.
“Please say that again, Your Highness.” Grand Priest Larksong’s hands flitted to the tiny bottle of crushed obsidian around his neck.
“I believe the creature that killed Devon Bearhaste, that hunted Princess Johanne, and that Lady Nadine described, was a rancor. The lady-in-waiting is hardly a fool. She knows what is natural and what is not.” Rune clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t be so eager to defend Embrians. “The rot surrounding Lord Bearhaste’s body was certainly not natural, nor was the advanced state of decay. And John Taylor—the best tracker in my personal guard—said it appeared as though the princess had been forced in the direction of the malsite, even when there’d been a clearer path toward the road. No wildcat could have done that.”
“A wolf pack, perhaps,” suggested Swan Brightvale.