“You. Want. To. Kill. The. King.” Each word was emphasized by Pelageya flinging out one of her bony fingers from her fists. She held up her hands, showing six fingers, and grinned. “All of you do! Oh, how our Tranavian king is hated. I wonder, though, truly, will you all turn your attention on the Kalyazi tsar next? Or is this a one-ruler assassination plan?”
No one spoke. Tension fell heavily over the room.
“The girl, the monster, and the prince,” Pelageya said with a sly giggle. “And here you all are.”
Serefin lifted his head. There was more to that prophecy. He didn’t miss the Vulture’s frown, or Józefina’s look of puzzlement.
“We are missing a few,” Pelageya mused, rocking back on her heels. “But…” She shrugged. “Their part will come later, or never, for if you all fail none of you will survive! I wonder, truly, if you have a plan for this coup? How will you keep the nobles from revolt? How will you keep the Kalyazi from swarming Grazyk? Or, gods forbid, the Salt Mines?”
“The throne is mine,” Serefin said.
The Vulture’s frown deepened at the mention of the Salt Mines. Serefin kept a careful eye on him as Pelageya spoke. He didn’t like that he was here, it didn’t make any sense.
“If the throne still exists after all of this,” Malachiasz murmured.
“Your throne likely won’t,” Serefin said.
“I don’t need my throne. It’s a bit of an empty symbol. Power is power.”
Józefina grew very still, her face paling. She cast a horrified look Malachiasz’s way before her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed her forehead against her knees.
“I want you all on the same page, my little revolutionaries, for I think you will all leave this room acting upon a singular plan.”
“And it will be a mad witch who sets us upon it?” Serefin asked.
“Ah, but you came here for advice, prince, because you are desperate with a plan that you know will fail.”
Serefin glowered and leaned back in his chair, sighing. He didn’t know why the Black Vulture and Józefina were here. He didn’t know what they knew or why they were—apparently—acting with the same goal as him. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. If this took him to the end, then he would work with anyone. “What will you have us do?”
Pelageya laughed, clasping her hands together. “Ah, this is a dream come true. What will I have you all do?”
“Within reason, witch,” Malachiasz said wearily.
Józefina still had not opened her eyes or lifted her head.
Pelageya sat down on the floor in the center of the room, her skirts sweeping out in a wide arc around her. She ran through—tapping out on her fingers—all the details that had come to light during the past few weeks. Most of it Serefin knew, some of it he did not. But those were things he barely believed: intervention of the divine, blood magic being used to block off the heavens, that it had been the Black Vulture who had defected. The latter explained a few things, but not enough.
“So what do we do?” Ostyia finally snapped.
Pelageya looked to her before looking away dismissively. Ostyia wasn’t a part of the witch’s mad prophecy so she wasn’t worth her time. However Serefin wanted to know the answer. What were they to do? If his plan was doomed to failure and seemingly he was to work with the Black Vulture? The Black Vulture who had returned to his cult. His cult that had been whispering in his father’s ear.
“What do you have to gain from my father’s death?” Serefin asked Józefina.
Her dark eyes were impassive. “I want to end a war.”
“And killing my father would do that? Why not kill the Kalyazi tsar? Tranavia is winning, why not let the war end organically?”
Her eyebrows furrowed and she chewed at her lip. “And why would you want to kill your father, Serefin? He’s your father, and you don’t seem particularly hungry for the throne.”
She’s deflecting, Serefin thought.
“Oh, but the king needs one last element for this grand spell of his!” Pelageya said before Serefin could answer. “The blood of his firstborn son will take him from our mortal realm to one significantly higher.”
Józefina blanched. It took her a second to recover. “So, how do we kill him? When do we kill him?”
“When he thinks he’s won,” Serefin murmured.
Malachiasz smiled. “Well, that’s where you’ll need me.”
Serefin’s eyes narrowed.
“The king doesn’t know I’m in Grazyk,” Malachiasz said.
“Yes, but we all know your Vultures have fallen to pieces in your absence,” Kacper said.
Malachiasz stiffened. Józefina shot him a curious look.
“There are some who want me off the throne,” he said. “How is that unusual?”
“Because the Vultures can’t act against their leader?”
“Magic is imperfect, lieutenant,” Malachiasz said. “How do you think I became king? Łucja had the throne for nearly forty years before I challenged her.”
Even so, Serefin hadn’t known the Vultures were truly split. It made sense now that the Crimson Vulture had come to him even while others were acting as his father’s personal guards. He couldn’t concern himself with uniting the cult, though.
“The Vultures are the ones who planted this seed in my father, who gave him this idea. Was it you? It makes perfect sense for you to be the puppet master here.”
Józefina looked ill.
“This is entirely my fault,” Malachiasz said.
Serefin flinched back as if Malachiasz had struck him. This has become quite the family mess, he thought.
Józefina stood, wincing as she did so. She slowly paced the room, walking with a bare limp. What happened to her?
She idly flipped a silver pendant between her fingers. “The king won’t want to … proceed without you present, will he?” she asked Malachiasz.
“If he thinks he can do this himself, he is grossly overconfident in his mediocre abilities,” Malachiasz said.
Serefin snorted softly. “That’s what this all is at the core of it, isn’t it? It’s just power.”
“Isn’t it always?” Malachiasz asked.
Józefina cast a glance between them, eyes narrowing. “All right,” she said softly. “It’s safe to assume that the Rawalyk has been ignored in favor of harvesting participants for their blood.” She grimaced, rubbing her forearm, and Serefin realized what had happened to her.
Blood and bone.
“I would say he’s going to make his move soon,” Serefin said. “I would like to avoid him reaching the part where he kills me. If that’s possible?”
A weary half smile flickered at Józefina’s lips. “Tell him you can do this without Serefin,” she said to Malachiasz.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You want me to go to the king?”
She held his gaze for a long time, something dangerous sparking through the air between them.
“If not, then we need to reevaluate our understanding,” she said. There was steel in her voice.
He looked as if she’d slapped him. “Understood,” he said, voice strained.