Polly sat at the foot of the bed. She watched me impassively, wide blue eyes neither remorseful nor hostile. She wore a riding habit of deep, rich blue, slim gilt braid winking at the seams and buttonholes. The bright flash of sun on her gold buttons made my eyes water.
“Dicey, you can leave. The patient appears at least acceptably recovered.” The girl dipped a curtsy and scurried from the tent as quickly as she could.
“What happened?” I asked. I furtively checked myself—still dressed in my gray-and-red traveling suit, not harmed beyond the goose egg on my head.
“Isn’t it clear? You were a threat to the Royalist enterprise, and so you were taken captive. A brilliant maneuver by the Third Light Infantry, I’m to understand, undercut your men’s defenses at the base of your hill and had you in hand before any resistance on the other side.”
“But they weren’t supposed to harm me,” I repeated with more than a little cynicism.
She met my eyes, level and honest. “I think someone was a bit concerned to have to fight a witch.”
“I’m—” But I couldn’t make that argument anymore. I had been harming men, directly, with my magic. Did Polly know? Surely by now they must have worked out that the sudden illness of the rifle companies wasn’t coincidental.
“Someone will, I am sure, be disciplined. Father didn’t want violence on a woman, even a curse-casting Reformist, even in the midst of battle. It felt unseemly.”
Polly shifted in her seat, and I realized, with thick foreboding settling in my stomach, that the guns had fallen silent. The field was quiet. No musket fire. No reports of cannons. No shouts. There was no way we were so far removed we could not hear the echoes of battle, if battle still raged. No, silence had descended on the field.
“You didn’t go to Serafe.”
“No, I did not go to Serafe.” Polly’s smile was absurdly apologetic. “I feared you would set men to follow me to my father, were I honest about my plans.”
“I hadn’t even considered it,” I said.
“I am in no way surprised you hadn’t. Now. I do wish you weren’t trying to have this conversation through what I imagine is a wretched headache,” Polly said, “but it’s imperative we speak of your immediate future.”
“With you?” I pressed a hand against my throbbing temple. “That is, you’re… authorized to… what is this, a negotiation?”
“The Royalist leadership has given me the authority to open these negotiations with you, given that everyone else is occupied with far greater concerns at the moment.”
Carefully, deftly spoken. Nothing revealed about the outcome of the battle.
“What do they want to negotiate? I’m in no position to accept your surrender.” The attempt at bravado was weak and I felt its absurdity. No point in bluffing or even joking. I had no leverage here—or did I? Why negotiate with me at all? “What is there to discuss?”
“Your defection.” I started, but Polly merely smiled. “Come, you must have considered the reality, that your skill set would benefit anyone who possessed your loyalty.”
“There is no way for the Royalists to possess my loyalty,” I retorted. “I—I’ve only employed my skills for the benefit of a cause I believe in.”
“Is that so? Because I’d understood you to be rather lukewarm on the subject of revolution until quite recently. Only after my brother took up the cause. You were never a Red Cap alongside your own brother.”
“I didn’t want my brother to be hurt! I was never in favor of violence. I believed in reform. Is that truly so impossible to comprehend?”
“No. But I suggest something else, that your loyalty is not only to a cause but to people you care for. Your brother. Theodor.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not so easy, always, to speak only in terms of ethics, to act only in the service of causes. Is it?”
My fingers worried the soft weave of the blanket under me. “No, it isn’t.”
“I think we understand that better than most, you and I.” She sighed. “But now. The subject of your loyalties. We would be willing to consider a bargain. You know full well that the lives of your Reformist leadership are forfeit, traitors under the rule of rightful law. Spoken plainly, Theodor and Kristos will both be sentenced to an ignominious death by hanging, to be carried out quite promptly.”
Now it was my turn to stare at her impassively, not letting the yawning horror in my gut speak plainly across my face.
“Unless.” She leaned forward. “We would give them parole, to leave Galitha immediately, of course, if you pledged your loyalty to the Royalists and to the Galatine Crown.”
“You want me to fight for you?”
“In the immediate future, yes. We anticipate difficulty routing the last of the revolutionaries from the city, and in that you would promise to aid us. But after that—no, I don’t think your talents are suited for overseas deployments and defensive maneuvers. You would be granted lodging, access to any library or assistants you needed, and given charge to develop casters for the Crown, for Galitha. To rival any adversary.”
I wanted nothing more than to spit in her eye, but my dry mouth wouldn’t allow for that, and I knew it was unwise, regardless. If Polly and I were here, at parlay, clearly the battle had been won—
I stopped. Had it? The guns were silent, but that did not mean that the Royalists had won. It didn’t mean anyone had won. Parlay. Perhaps the two sides had merely come to parlay.
If I agreed to her terms, I would be loosed on my countrymen. That much was clear—she and her fellows would hold the lives of my brother and my beloved over me until I had spun enough dark magic to effect a surrender. They had Serafan casters who could confirm my work, who I would likely work alongside. But—the thought crept in, I could be deployed against the city and never know who held the field.
Still, insidious and ugly—if the Reformists had been beaten on the field, refusal meant the lives of those dearest to me. I took a shaky breath, knowing the gamble I had to take.
52
“I’M SORRY,” I SAID WITH A TREMBLING VOICE, “BUT WE ALL promised to hang together.”
Her breath hiccupped slightly, surprised, and before she could recover, I knew—I had guessed correctly. The Royalists had not won, and their gambit was to not only remove me from the battlefield calculus but turn me against my own.
“Well. If that’s your choice, I’m sure you’ll get your wish. But you might reconsider—”
“I won’t. The guns will recommence momentarily, I imagine. Unless your brother and mine have accepted the surrender of your father.”
The carefully controlled mask cracked, and she scowled. “You are cleverer than I gave you credit for. No. We have not surrendered. This was merely a parlay—well, the gambit failed. They’ll try the same shoe on the other foot, of course, if it comes to it—see if they’re willing to accept some forfeit for your return.”
“They won’t,” I said, confident. I could trust Sianh to stay strong in that regard even if the others buckled. “Tell me honestly, who has the upper hand now?”