Her eyes glinted with amusement. “Ah, you’ve learned much,” she said. “Everyone has their reasons, do they not?”
“And what are yours?” I tried to keep my voice light, calm like hers, but I worried, mired in a game I only half understood.
“If Lairn Ani-Fyn is favored, and given positions of accolade for such action, my own family will be out of favor, and the only way to regain favor will be, it seems, ethically unsavory methods. I would rather maintain our position the way my family always have.”
“Which is?”
She grinned. “Forming alliances with our neighbors. If we aid Galitha’s Reformists in their time of need, I am sure you will remember us. And if the Allied States are in dire need, disadvantaged without magic of our own, there will be a nation now doubly strong in charm and curse, willing to aid us. And the Mbtai-Joro family will be your connection.”
“Very well.” I stood, firm resolve in my motion hiding my panic at what I was doing, acting on behalf of a nation that existed only on paper and on a battlefield. “We have the beginnings of an agreement.”
47
I BURST IN ON THE OFFICERS’ MEETING, MET BY ANNOYANCE THAT turned quickly to excitement as I explained the turn of events. Kristos immediately convened the council to review the charter for any possible problems, Sianh cornered Hysso to discuss his troop strength and promise of additional recruits, and Theodor formally presented himself to Dira. The council found no objections to the proposal, and entered into negotiations with Hysso, with the aim of adding Pellia as a member equal to the rest of the Republic of Galitha, with equal voice in the Council of Country.
Theodor, Kristos, and I oversaw the vote, overwhelmingly in favor of the unification. A few voices protested, loudly, that Pellian inclusion was anathema to Galatine history and culture, but pragmatism outweighed these concerns. Many of our council members, in truth, had worked alongside Pellians in the fishing and shipping trade, and two pragmatic southerners were Pellian immigrants themselves. “Fools act like they’ve never met a Pellian,” a council member from the southern coast muttered near me. He glanced at me and blushed, but I nodded in agreement with him.
Pellian troops began arriving just as the first flurries supplanted autumn’s rain. Pellia’s army was not large, but they dedicated most of it to our efforts—with the understanding that we would meet and excel that commitment once the war was won, were Pellia threatened. Better, they had been a standing army, and were trained, meticulous, and needed little instruction to adapt to Galatine methods. New Galatine recruits arrived, as well, many of whom were fishermen who filled out Annette’s ranks of sailors.
“By winter’s end we will have a full army again,” Sianh said, reviewing the troops maneuvering on the parade ground of the school. With the exception of the Pellian marine units, who were Pellia’s version of elite forces and badly needed on Annette’s ships, he had combined and reworked the regiments yet again so that the troops were fully integrated. Cohesion on the field, he said, could only be achieved through discomfort in drill—and discomfort he served in droves. Unfamiliar comrades, increased maneuvers, longer sessions of bayonet and firing drills, all with winter bearing hard on Rock’s Ford.
“And by day’s end we’ll have a redrawn map of Galatine electoral districts with representation fairly distributed to include Pellia.” Theodor heaved a contented sigh, smoothing his mussed hair before putting his hat back on. It sat perfectly askance over his brow, giving him a dashing military bearing. “Hysso knows his business, and Dira has proven a keen arbiter.”
“Any word from Niko?” I asked.
“Nothing. The electoral districts fairly include Galitha City. They can elect representatives like the rest of the country, and we’ll sort it out then.” Theodor’s grim monotone told me he anticipated it wouldn’t be so easy.
“I am, as always, grateful to be your military advisor and not involved in your politics,” Sianh said with a shake of his head, never taking his eyes from marching maneuvers.
“Politics! Remember when that meant a talk about a Melchoir essay in the salon, Theo?” Viola sailed toward us, a silk quilted petticoat bouncing in an icy wind.
“Yes, before Reform Bills turned into bayonet charges,” Theodor said.
“It turns out a cabal of women gossiping in parlors can effect great things.” Viola laughed, winking at me. “They haven’t changed much for us, have they?”
Theodor tensed. “That can come later. Once the structure of governance is in place, the laws themselves will be subject to constant reevaluation. And change.”
“You’ll tell us ‘later’ until we’re all doddering and gray,” Viola said. “I’ll confess, it rankles me, this part of ‘progress.’ As a noblewoman, I at least had some agency, some power. And now I must lose it all—more than the men because they at least still have the right to vote.”
“Vivi, be patient,” Theodor began.
“Honestly, Theodor, I think we’ve all been rather patient,” I countered. “You have women sewing your shirts and tending your wounded and doing your laundry not because this army pays well—it doesn’t—but because they believe in this cause as much as the soldiers do.”
“As I said,” Sianh murmured, “I am very grateful I am not involved in your politics.”
Before Viola could snap at Sianh, Fig dashed up to us. My stomach lurched—usually when the diminutive messenger was out of breath, he was the bearer of bad news.
“Penny! She’s had the baby,” he panted. “Kristos’s there now but wanted Miss Sophie to come, too—”
“She’s had the baby?” Viola’s eyebrow angled upward. “I think you must be mistaken, she was at breakfast not six hours ago, and these things take time.”
“No, ma’am, she was in a hurry to be born, Dr. Oglethorpe said.”
“She!” I caught Theodor’s hand. “A girl.”
Kristos and Penny and a tiny bundle wrapped in soft white linen were safely ensconced in their room in Westland Hall by the time I tumbled through the door. Penny had the tired yet triumphant look of a boxer who, despite taking a few knocks, had won the bout by a mile, while Kristos looked proud and happy and thoroughly dazed.
Penny grinned and beckoned me over. “Here, hold her. Isn’t she pretty?”
I took the bundle in my arms. She was red and wrinkled with a shock of dark hair, and her tiny eyes squished themselves shut against the bright afternoon light. “She’s beautiful,” I said. It was the truth. My little niece—my brother’s baby, my blood, new little citizen of a new Republic of Galitha—was beautiful.
“And you’re all right?” Theodor asked, blushing. “That is—childbirth is—I mean…”
“She’s a rare one, to be so quick with the first and do so well,” Hamish said gruffly despite his broad smile. “But she is fine as fine can be. She could like as not use a nap, though.”
“Is it all right?” I whispered, still holding the baby. Penny nodded, and we stepped out of the room.
“I’ll let the others know Fig isn’t telling tall tales,” Theodor said. “Say, does she have a name?”