Finally, it was just Hanne and the two Ivaslander monarchs. So vulnerable. How easy it would be to kill them right here. Even without her dagger, which was hidden with the obsidian, she could end the Ivasland monarchy using her own two hands. She could save Embria—and Caberwill, since it would soon be hers—from this long, unsustainable war. She could put the entire continent out of its misery in mere minutes.
But while that would be temporarily satisfying, there’d be no time for Hanne to enjoy the victory. Guards would be on her the moment one of the monarchs screamed. She’d be executed. And murdering these two wouldn’t solve the problem of the mal-device, or even of the Ivasland state, not really. Someone—someone not the king and queen—was working on the machine, after all. Other people did know of its existence. And if they learned Hanne’s identity, they’d be even more inclined to use it against Embria.
Not to mention the rancor had specifically forbade her from killing them.
“All right,” said Abagail. “You have our attention.”
“Good.” Hanne squared her shoulders. “As I said, I am here to help you with the device.” Even if she couldn’t rid the world of these two, she would make the best of the situation. Control it. Guide it. The rancor had instructed her only to help Ivasland finish the mal-device. It hadn’t said she couldn’t try to destroy the kingdom from within.
Tuluna the Tenacious was Hanne’s teacher. For years, the patron Numen of Embria had whispered advice and plans into her mind, training her how to handle every situation imaginable. With such preparation, Hanne could turn any situation to her advantage.
“Why?” Baldric asked.
“How do you even know about it?” The disdain in Abagail’s tone was a knife, but she was far from an expert at wielding scorn. Hanne, however, had studied the art of contempt since the moment she’d left her mother’s body, and the best way to rile someone like Abagail was to stay silent. The queen went on: “Are you a spy?”
“No.” Embria did have one spy here, but they hadn’t heard from the man in a fortnight. (A normal fortnight. It was, of course, longer for Hanne herself.) “As for why: Does it matter? I can help you.”
“It matters if you expect us to trust you with our most valuable project.”
Hanne’s smile returned. Easy, like lighting bugs on fire. They didn’t even know what was happening to them.
“Well, clearly you have a leak somewhere. I wouldn’t have found out about the device otherwise, would I?” Hanne settled into herself. At last, she was returning to her true identity, engaged in the sort of verbal combat she excelled at. None of this surviving on dirty stream water and eating berries.
She’d been made for more than enduring; she’d been made to conquer.
“Tell us where you’ve heard these rumors,” Baldric said.
Hanne glided closer, as though she were a swan in a swamp. “I heard about the device from someone who wants it to be completed. I cannot compromise that source.”
“Hmm.” Abagail narrowed her eyes.
“Here’s the truth.” Hanne looked at her enemies face on. “I’m not from Ivasland, but Embria. I know you know that.”
“It’s obvious,” said Abagail.
“Anyone can tell,” said Baldric.
Hanne nodded. Now they were more at ease. Now they’d seen through her charade and thought they had the advantage. “I grew up in Solcast,” she went on, “but I’m a pariah among my people. I wanted to learn about science and math—about mechanics. I had ideas for improving grain production, but even at the university I was told to keep those thoughts to myself. Such improvements would work, but the Fortuin family isn’t happy unless their people are pushed to the absolute limit. Much easier to keep them in line that way. They are brutality itself, those Fortuins.”
Abagail’s expression was hard. “I find your story difficult to believe.”
Hanne gasped in perfectly manufactured outrage. “What? You find it hard to believe that I don’t want to be worked to the bone every day when there’s a better way? That I want more food for my neighbors?”
“Tell the truth,” Abagail said softly. “How did a young girl like you learn of our little project?”
“Everyone in Embria knows that something is happening here.” Hanne made her voice gentler. “That’s why the princess was sent off to marry Rune Highcrown. I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Of course.” Baldric’s face contorted with anger. “They mean to crush us, but it won’t be long before they destroy each other.”
Hanne nodded knowingly. “The alliance will only last so long, but I think it will last long enough for real harm to befall Ivasland—unless your machine is finished quickly. That’s why I’m here.”
“Because you, an Embrian, don’t want Ivasland brought to its knees?”
With a long sigh, Hanne approached Abagail and Baldric. “No. I don’t want Ivasland to fall. As I said, there are aspects of your kingdom that I respect—more than respect. I admire the education you guarantee to all your people. I admire your efforts to treat people equally, regardless of birth. And I admire that you don’t forbid ingenuity simply because you like to make people work harder than necessary.”
“True enough,” Baldric said cautiously. “But is that sufficient reason to betray your homeland?”
“It is. It’s why I’m here to help you. I want Ivasland—and its culture and ideals—to have a fighting chance against the combined regression of Embria and Caberwill. I want knowledge to be the light in this world.”
The monarchs glanced at each other, uncertainty clear on their faces. “How can we trust that you won’t sabotage the machine and delay our schedule?”
Hanne tilted her head, not bothering to hide her exasperated look. “It won’t be just me and your machine, will it? I’ll be observed, certainly. Unless you don’t trust those who work on the project.”
It was so easy to plant the seeds of mistrust and watch them grow. First in the guards and the secretary. Now in the monarchs themselves.
Again, the king and queen looked at each other. A hard quiet wove through the room.
Now she had to soften it.
“Think about it,” Hanne said. “Not only could you win your war against Embria and Caberwill, you could capture malice inside malsites and take it to the Malstop—put it back where it belongs. You could throw it into the ocean, even. Clean up the land and make it safe for your people to travel and work. You can have war and you can have peace.”
It was a nice thought, Hanne reasoned. Every monarch—all across Salvation—talked about peace as though it were a possibility, but they never meant what they said. The war-hungry Caberwillines didn’t actually want it, and Hanne’s power-mad parents couldn’t truly conceive of such a thing. And the Ivaslanders…Well, they were breaking the ancient Winterfast Accords, and that said enough about their views. (True, Hanne was helping them do it, but she was being coerced.)