Eirhan took a breath. For a moment, I thought he’d continue, but he took a sip of coffee, made a face at the cup, and put it back down.
“Why are they so concerned with parliamentary representation?” I said. “Is there unrest? Are the people planning a revolt?”
“Not at this time,” Eirhan said, and I heard what he didn’t say. “Your father’s been trying to solidify trade agreements in a way that supports our traders, which has resulted in a reduced exchange of goods. Some feel that his increased focus on independent subsistence leaves us vulnerable in the event of a disaster. Others think the world will buy magic from us no matter what.” He grimaced. “And that Below will soon relent to the new terms.”
I fought the urge to rub my temples. I understood maybe half of what he said, which was his intention, no doubt. “So if we don’t trade with anyone, who buys our magic?”
“I never said we don’t trade with anyone,” Eirhan said, and a trace of irritation bled through. “We simply trade less. Magic is worth more. The stores in our treasury have created a useful buffer. But the buffer will quickly run out if you can’t replace the magic as it is sold, and some feel that even grand dukes can make mistakes—mistakes that a parliament can counteract.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I was questioned enough as grand duke. If we did have a parliament, it would ignore me and do whatever it wanted. Like marry me off to Sigis.
“An alternative government is hardly what your father wanted,” Eirhan said. “And if you think he’ll awaken, the worst thing you can do is push to reduce his power. You’ve already put us in enough of a state with the coronation trials.” How quickly he forgot who’d suggested them in the first place. But he ignored my pointed scowl. “You’re scheduled to meet with Annika first. Their lands abroad provide most of our agricultural imports. Lean on that in talks with them.”
Annika was responsible for the rye flour we used for our fine loaves; the oats we turned into porridge; the tough, dark cabbage we stewed; and the vegetables that arrived pickled in vinegar. We foraged some things from the mountains, had our own apple orchard, and used the bounties of the lake—but Annika had holdings and land agreements in Drysiak and Rabar, so they could manage to feed a city. I didn’t know what to trade them for support, either. Some of what I thought must have shown on my face, for Eirhan said, “I will be here, Your Grace, and I’ll assist you on talking points.”
“More coffee first,” I said, and Aino went to the door to speak to a servant. “Eirhan?”
“Your Grace?”
“What do you think? About a parliament?”
He thought for a moment. Then his lips pulled back into a bland smile, and he said, “I am dedicated to the duke Above, whatever your decisions may be.”
At that, he swept to the door and let Annika in.
The meetings were a whirlwind of terms and facts that I couldn’t keep track of. Eirhan did most of my talking for me. I bit back resentment, focusing on what he said and the way he said it. I needed him now—but only for now.
Annika was excessively polite but wouldn’t meet my eyes. Itilya was unreadable and asked after Lyosha. She was better than Reko, who hadn’t asked to meet at all and was probably simultaneously plotting my murder and the establishment of a parliament. Urso wouldn’t stop patting my shoulder, and Yannush was all business, speaking more to Eirhan than to me and referencing conversations I’d never been privy to. No one else demanded a parliament outright, which I took as an encouraging start. But by the time Eirhan declared lunch, my brain hurt in a way it had never hurt after a day’s work in the laboratory.
As Yannush left, a servant slipped in and handed Eirhan a note. He scanned it, then huffed. “We’re lifting the quarantine.”
“Excuse me?”
“Doctor Munna no longer believes there’s any danger of contagion. Opening the gates now will minimize bad feeling among the delegates.”
“Isn’t this a decision for the grand duke to make?” I said.
Eirhan’s nostrils flared. “Do you wish to make a different decision? To make them scramble for accommodations in the city or beg for hospitality from Sigis’s army?”
He was right, and we both knew it. “Of course not. Lift the quarantine,” I said.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” He took my arm. “I’ll attend to that while you lunch with Sigis.”
I set my feet so firmly in the ice that the iron grips on my shoes chipped the surface. Eirhan rubbed at his temple, then checked the hallway outside for eavesdroppers. “I know Your Grace wishes to be anywhere else,” he muttered. “But Sigis is your biggest threat, and only you can change that.”
“He’d backtrack if I worked with Farhod and cured this… problem,” I replied.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t the time. Remember, Sigis is only a man. There are things he wants, and all you have to do is make him think he’ll get them.”
“All I have to do,” I repeated under my breath. But I allowed Eirhan to lead me out.
Sigis stood in the Rose Room in a resplendent black cloak. He’d trimmed his beard and put sapphires in his ears. The gems had been a gift from Father when Sigis left our court, and Sigis had no doubt chosen them with care for this occasion. “Hello, Ekata,” he said.
I hesitated. “Hello, brother,” I finally said. Maybe that would deter him from trying to marry me.
“Have a cup of wine with me.” His voice was all silk and softness. “To commemorate your father, the idol of rulership.”
“I…” Don’t know how to respond to that. I’d never seen Father as an idol, but what would he have done? Grand dukes showed no hesitation. “He’s not dead yet.”
“I’ve been led to believe it’s only a matter of time.” He hardly sounded distraught at the news. Poorly concealed glee might have been more accurate.
“Our physician and our minister of alchemy think there’s hope for recovery.”
“Then I hope, as well.” Sigis sat and lifted his cup. We drank.
Something glinted in his hand, shifting colors in the firelight. He rolled it between his fingers, and I realized what it was—a single pearl of magic. Where’d he gotten that? “Strange, isn’t it?” He held it up to the light. “Without this, you’d have nothing. You’d be nothing.”
“We’ll never be nothing.” That was what Sigis didn’t understand. It was why he didn’t deserve to be grand duke.
“Did your father teach you the secret of making it obey him?” Sigis looked at the pearl of magic as though he wanted to kiss it. Maybe he could marry the magic and leave me alone. Then he shot me a derisive glance, judging and dismissing me in the same moment. I shivered, resisting the urge to scrub his lingering look off the front of my chest. By the time I regained my composure, Sigis wore a cocky smile.
“No. You took from the treasury for that display last night, didn’t you?” He chuckled, holding the pearl up. “And here I thought I had something to worry about.”
I spoke before I thought better of it. “Being grand duke is about more than making pretty demonstrations.”