There you go, grandfather. I don’t know if you could have done better yourself.
Maybe Kip was learning something about this diplomacy business after all.
‘Kip’? Make that ‘Satrap Guile.’
Chapter 15
“You still don’t trust me,” Aliviana said.
The White King didn’t even turn from the mortal he was conversing with, some engineer or something. “You can’t lie, my dear. Why would I trust you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She let the ‘my dear’ go this time.
He shot her that deprecatory look again. “You’re honest. You have to be, so I trust you not to lie to me. I also trust you to be lousy at lying to anyone else.”
“I’m not a child,” she said.
Still not turning toward her, he said, “What do you want, Liv?” exactly as one would address a child.
The engineer made to withdraw.
“Why have I been denied being in charge of communications? I’m Ferrilux, goddess of superviolet. It is what I do.”
“It is what you will do,” Koios said. “Integrating our forces will take time, and I can’t risk you bungling anything at this juncture.”
“So you don’t trust me not to bungle things?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” he said.
“Fuck you,” she said.
He made no move toward her, but the papers in his hands suddenly went up in flames. The engineer staggered backward and fell with a yelp.
“My apologies,” Koios said to the man finally.
“No trouble at all, Your Majesty,” he said, slowly getting up and retreating. “I’ll redraw the schematics and bring them back immediately.”
“No need. It looks excellent. You may go.”
Koios turned toward her. “Not in front of the mortals, please?”
“Done,” she said. “I want access to all your research as you promised, and my bane. It’s been two days since we took our oath—”
“You were supposed to show me how to make my own oath stones!”
“I did.”
“You know my superviolets couldn’t follow what you did.”
Of course she did.
“You will know how to make oath stones before I leave, this I promise. After the battle. I couldn’t very well hand you chains you could so easily put on me, now, could I?”
He took a deep breath. “You won. I shan’t underestimate you again.”
“We both win, Your Majesty,” she said. “Now, let me help us win the real war. My research and my bane. Please. And if you’d tell me the plan, I could actually help it succeed. Which is, after all, the whole point, isn’t it?”
He weighed her with his color-knotted eyes, waves of different luxins rising and falling within them as he called on each in turn. “Apology accepted,” he said. “You’ll have the superviolet research and command, and the bane.”
She didn’t leave.
“Today,” he said. “By my word.”
He glanced at the oath stone; she carried it at her neck. Last year, he’d tried to chain her with a black luxin necklace. Now, it pleased her to remind him of it with a chain that bound them both instead.
“You’re really going to throw it in the sea?” he asked.
“When I leave. As I promised.”
“What would happen if I destroyed it instead?”
“That would be very difficult. But if you succeeded . . . You bound your will to it, utterly. Break one, break the other. I’ve told you all this. It should not be news.”
“It isn’t. I wanted you to repeat it in different words so I could tell if you meant what your words seemed to mean before.”
He strode over to a map.
“Kip is here,” he said, not bothering to wait for her to reach him before he started. “We’re here. Dúnbheo has massive numbers of ships and excellent docks, so coming down the Great River and turning up the coast here could take Kip’s Nightbringers possibly as little as two weeks. Less if they pack only essentials and don’t expect a protracted fight. Coming overland would likely take four weeks, three at best.”
“And you said we’re about three weeks from launching the armada,” she said. It was significantly later than she’d first assumed, and that meant she might have to hedge this bet of joining Koios. “So if he doesn’t figure out what you’re doing for another week or two, he can’t possibly make it?”
“He’s got less time than that, actually,” Koios said. His grin was skeletal under the hard blue luxin.
She raised her hands palm up.
“We’ve seized the Great River,” the White King said, “right behind his back.”
“You what? How’d you manage that?”
He looked immensely pleased with himself. “In many ways, my wights are inferior to the Chromeria’s drafters. But they’re also fearless. We’ve made great strides with magics long buried.”
“What? Some kind of night magic?”
“No luck with that. The caoránaigh.”
“What is that? Sea monsters?”
“Wights who’ve transformed their bodies as much as possible for the water. They took the names of old monsters to make people fear them. Actually, though, I wonder if what they are is exactly what those old monsters were. They can go wherever the rivers go, unseen, and board boats before anyone knows they’re there.”
“How many do you have?” Aliviana asked.
“Enough. Mercenaries on the shores for fortifications and intel. Wights in the woods, wights in the waters. No one escapes. The silence won’t hold forever, but it’s already held longer than I’d dared hope. Long enough.”
“And if he figures out your little plan? What if—”
“Hardly ‘little.’ No one’s ever done it before.”
“For good reason!” she said. “What if Kip moves faster than you imagine? He’s done it before, I hear. Surprising you time and again, defeating your forces over and over?”
“And always pushing deeper and deeper into Blood Forest as he did so.”
“And why do you care? The capital’s there, and you’ll never hold the satrapy without Green Haven. Not for long. These people—”
“The people of this satrapy believe Kip is the Lightbringer. Their Luíseach.”
She put her hands to her cheeks in mock horror. “Oh no, the Light-bringer! Whatever shall we do?” She shook her head. “Are we really going to start listening to what desperate peasants say? Do you know what they say about you?”
“I believe it, too.”
“Excuse me?”
He didn’t seem to be joking.
“This is Kip Delauria we’re talking about, right? Of Rekton? I’ve known him all his life. He’s not some mystical being, Lucidonius reborn or something. He’s a fat kid. A cringing whinger. There’s nothing in him of—”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care how you cover for your old boyfriend—”
“I’m not covering and he’s not—”