The archimandrite didn’t join me in my mirth. “This is not a negotiation, Your Grace. Either you do it, or…”
But grand dukes didn’t bow to others. “You don’t get to threaten me. I’m not going to buy the duchy; I’m going to earn it.”
“What makes you think those two things are different?” The archimandrite moved away from the black mess on the floor, tapping her staff as she walked. Each little clink bounced off the walls. “Three grand dukes I have crowned. Don’t presume you know better than me.”
Except those three dukes had been up against minor officials and dummy contestants in the coronation trials. The archimandrite knew I was desperate. She knew she could push for more. And maybe she thought my inexperience would mean I wouldn’t consider the consequences.
“You’re my equal, but not my better,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We can make arrangements, or you can see how respectful a Drysian king will be of our Kylmian goddess.”
“Did you truly murder your family so you could end your reign feuding with the church?” the archimandrite spat.
“Call me a murderer one more time,” I growled through gritted teeth.
The archimandrite waved her hand. “Grand dukes come and go. We keep the Snowmount eternal. With you or with another.”
I made fists of my shaking hands. Give her what she wants. Eirhan would be so angry with me. “We can make a provisional agreement. I’ll speak with the council and see what kind of tithe—”
“You agree now, or you fail the trial,” the archimandrite said. “And all of Kylma will know it.”
We didn’t speak on the way back to the shrine of Sjiotha. Inkar paced in front of the eternal flame. She came to stand beside me, and though I felt her eyes on me, I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze.
“Best of luck,” the archimandrite said in a voice of snow and stone.
The air bit at us as we left the Snowmount. People craned their necks to see around us. Murmurs ran through the crowd, then dropped to an uncomfortable silence when they realized the archimandrite wouldn’t emerge. The world was reduced to the creak of the ice and the groan of the wind.
Sigis stood by his horse, having eschewed a trip via sled. When we heard, at long last, the tap of the archimandrite’s staff behind us, he handed his reins to an attendant and strode up the stairs without looking at us. He sank to his knees, taking the archimandrite’s hand and bowing his head to the proper ring finger. “It has been too long since I’ve profaned the altar of Sjiotha with my prayers.”
“Some atonement is surely in order.” The archimandrite spoke to him as she would speak to a favorite son. She urged him to his feet, and they went inside.
I drew my cloak around Inkar and pulled it tight, as though I could keep the fire that had ignited in me from bursting out. My limbs shook. The whole world was that one point, the door through which two traitors had gone. “Please do not pull me over,” said Inkar. I let go of the cloak a hair, and she nodded. “Perhaps we should go back? I am cold, and I do not think we can do any more good here.”
“Yes.” Father would pretend as though everything that had happened was planned. Well, either that or tear down the Snowmount, and I didn’t think I could get away with that. Not with the whole city watching me. I let Inkar guide me down the steps and onto the dogsled.
The dogs brought us around, and we began to trot back up the boulevard toward the walls of the palace. “Perhaps it is for the best,” Inkar said. “I have never wanted to adopt a religion merely to impress someone else.”
Religion, food, and horses. The annoy-Inkar list grew.
The crowd on the road to either side was silent, and I did not find that to be a comfort. Why didn’t anyone cheer for me?
Have you ever given them a reason to? Maybe I should hand Sigis the throne. But that image, of Sigis sitting snug and smug in my father’s chair, lit a fire in me. I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t be the one who caved in to his invasion after centuries of independence. And I certainly wouldn’t do it without a war. That chair was our gift, our right, our responsibility. And grand dukes didn’t shy from responsibility.
But my chances in the coronation trials didn’t look good. If I couldn’t change the archimandrite’s mind, I’d have to win the next two trials.
Or I’d have to stop the coronation trials in their tracks.
I knew my family had been cursed via magic. I knew where we stored it, too. Every single shipment, whether it consisted of a pearl or a barrel, had to be approved to leave the royal treasury.
When we arrived at the kennels, my knees were stiff and my hands had frozen around the bar of the sled. My bad temper wrapped around me like a shroud.
Eirhan appeared before I’d even gotten off the sled. “Give her what she wants, I said. What did you fail to grasp about that?”
“Nothing.” I pulled the ribbon of my cloak and let it fall around Inkar.
“Then how have you failed to win the simplest of the coronation trials?” he snapped.
Grand dukes didn’t bear the brunt of their subordinates’ attitudes. “Shut up,” I told him, and was satisfied to see his mouth fall open a fraction. “Get my guard.”
Viljo hopped off his sled. “I am here, Your Grace.”
“No,” I said, turning the impatience in my voice to iron. “Get the entire guard.” Grand dukes made grand gestures, after all.
Minister Bailli found me as I was trying to get Viljo to kick down the door of the treasury. He stopped in the middle of the hall, and Minister Urso and his secretary walked right into Bailli’s back. “What are you doing?” Bailli wiped his head. “Your Grace,” he added, as though it would soften his insubordinate tone.
“Give me your key,” I said.
“I… what?” His hand went to his belt, touching the large iron ring of keys.
“Your key,” I snarled.
“I… what need does Your Grace have of entering the treasury?” Bailli blustered. The iron grips on his shoes chipped the ice as he shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m the grand duke, and I want to,” I said.
For a moment, I thought Bailli would refuse me, but I didn’t care. I had a dozen guards who would arrest him on the spot. A moment later, he moved forward, coat swaying, shoulders hunched, and head down. He pushed past me and inserted his key into the lock.
The crowd behind us doubled. I saw Eirhan against the wall, brows drawn together in worry. Reko leaned next to him, arms folded, smiling like a fox that had come upon a goose with a broken leg. “A dictator’s first move is always to seize the means of power,” he remarked.
The door swung open. Viljo and another guard shoved past Bailli.
The treasury’s front office was lined with oak shelves weighed down by book after book of accounts. A desk sat in the corner, drawers open and half-filled with papers and books. I picked up a ledger and began to flip through it.
Bailli’s jowls quivered with rage. The guards stood awkwardly, awaiting some order. “Take it all,” I said. I turned to Bailli. “We’ll be running an audit on your accounts.”
Bailli’s chest puffed out. “How dare you? No Avenko has audited me, not in thirty years.”