“I mentioned this morning that I’ve been receiving messages from Dasnaria,” she began in a neutral tone, gaze on her food, not me.
“That you believe might be from Inga. You didn’t say why, other than that they sound feminine in tone.”
She flicked me a glance, both of us recalling that conversation and how it had ended. “Jepp said that Inga indicated she would remain in communication if she could.”
I sat back, surprised. Jepp hadn’t told me that, though she’d relayed greetings and good wishes from Inga and Helva both. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me that?” I inquired, as evenly as possible.
“Yes,” she replied in the same tone, “because I paid less attention to it than I should have. It didn’t occur to either Jepp or me that Inga meant she’d send coded information on the politics inside the Imperial Palace. I underestimated her.”
I nodded, accepting that. Inga had changed a great deal then, from the girl I’d known, if she’d indeed decided to betray the empire and had worked out a way to do it. “How is she getting messages out?”
“An excellent question and one I don’t have the answer to. The messages arrive with other ones from within the Thirteen, marked as personal correspondence, written in Common Tongue, and apparently full of gossip from a cousin by marriage.”
“You don’t have any cousins who aren’t Tala,” I mused.
“Exactly. So she knows enough about me to include that information to tip me off. She also regularly speaks of my consort’s continuing good health, she and her sister sending him love and the best of wishes.”
I closed my eyes briefly, the surge of old affection taking me unawares. Until that moment I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. Perhaps coming to terms with losing Jenna, letting her go after all this time, allowed me to remember the good parts of our lives, and how I’d loved my other sisters, too.
“She also warns me that my consort might face some sort of competition,” Ursula continued, her tone exceedingly neutral. “With the code she’s using, it hasn’t been clear to me what she meant—a threat against you or something else. That’s another reason I haven’t mentioned it to you.” Her eyes were clear and without guile when I looked at her.
I continued to play this her way. “What sorts of competition does she describe?”
Ursula gave an irritated shrug. “It’s couched in silly phrases; you likely to lose a tournament—when we know you don’t participate in such things—or being disqualified from some sort of gaming championship. Nonsense.”
I grunted noncommittally, beginning to form an idea of what might be coming.
“Now Kral has received a formal communication, delivered to the Hákyrling, from your brother, Emperor Hestar.”
Glad I’d had the wit not to be caught with food to choke on or wine to spit, I shoved my plate away and leaned my elbows on the table, cupping a fist in my hand and propping my chin on them. That way I’d be less likely to strangle her. “It’s taken you this long to mention that?”
Her eyes snapped sword-sharp with irritation. “If you’d controlled your temper—words I never thought I’d have to say to you—you would’ve been there to hear the news at the same time I did. Then you had to dash yourself brainless against a shapeshifter and we had a lot of old secrets to clear off the table, which was also your doing. Don’t second-guess me in this, Harlan.”
I took a breath and let it go. “Fine. What does this communication from my esteemed brother offer?” I knew what it would be, from Inga’s hints, in my bones—from knowing my family so well, perhaps—and only needed to hear the words.
“It contains an offer of alliance. A marriage of state, between me and your brother Ban.”
And there it was. It almost didn’t hurt, I’d been braced for that particular blow for so long. “Don’t accept Ban,” I told her. “He’s never been right in the head. Hold out for Mykal, or one of the twins.”
She gaped at me. I didn’t often catch Ursula flat-footed. Sadly I couldn’t enjoy it this time. Determinedly I bit into a leg of meat, chewing, counting the beats of silence until the explosion.
“That’s your response.” She was entirely astonished—and quiet with it. I would’ve preferred the explosion.
“Yes—the best advice I can give. Ban was born wrong. He’s fine in body, but not all there in his mind. Though that might be useful for your purposes.” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I regretted them. So much for keeping my cool.
“I don’t deserve that,” she said quietly.
“No.” I blew out a breath. “I apologize. Though offering you Ban is an insult. Mykal or one of the twins would be more fitting for you to marry.”
“Harlan. I’m not marrying any of them.”
“What did Hestar offer?”
“What?”
I wiped the grease from my hands, giving her a knowing look. “A marriage of alliance with Dasnaria gets what for the High Throne of the Thirteen Kingdoms?” I phrased it deliberately, if unfairly prodding her, emphasizing where we both knew her responsibilities lay.
“Independent ally of the empire,” she replied, eyeing me. “One hundred years of that status, with options to renegotiate. Protection from the Temple of Deyrr.”
“A good offer,” I acknowledged. “Better than I expected.”
“If Hestar doesn’t renege.”
“He won’t. Not on the letter of the agreement. Konyngrrs revere a good contract.” I smiled at her in reminder of the Vervaldr’s initial contract, how Ursula had pored over it, looking for loopholes, and how she hadn’t believed at first that I’d written it. But she didn’t smile at the old joke.
“And Deyrr?” she asked pointedly.
I lifted a shoulder and let it fall, contemplating. If I focused on the politics, I could set emotion aside. Giving Ursula advice was part of supporting her as I’d sworn to do. “I imagine Hestar will be very careful of exactly what he promises regarding Deyrr. From what we know of the movements of the High Priestess and the previous actions of the temple, I doubt Hestar has as much control there as he’d like. It’s entirely possible this offer is a sign that he recognizes he needs this alliance—and your assistance—to tear Deyrr from his own throat.”
“What possible assistance can I offer the Empire of Dasnaria?”
“You rule Annfwn,” I pointed out. “The Tala are the descendants of n’Andana, ancient enemy of Deyrr. Arguably a successful enemy, as they made the deciding move in their long war by taking magic out of circulation and starving Deyrr of magic. In Hestar’s place, who else would you bet on to contain Deyrr other than the people who did it before?”
She had an arrested look on her face, thinking through the ramifications, then wrinkled her nose. “Logical, except I don’t actually rule Annfwn. Even Andi and Rayfe are hard-pressed to govern that lot of anarchists and iconoclasts.”
Though I appreciated her attempt at levity, I didn’t take the distraction. “Hestar doesn’t know that. Something has pushed him to this point and it’s an opportunity you can’t afford to pass up.”
Fury crossed her face like a summer squall, quickly passing. “How can you suggest that so calmly?”
I only wished I felt calm inside, but I could present the façade to ease this for her. Sliding a fruit tart onto her plate, I bit into one of my own. Fresh strawberries, first of the season, and a fair amount of sour with the sweet. “We always knew this day would come,” I said after swallowing, since she’d left the question out there for me to answer, staring me down. “You’ve known all your life that part of being heir to the High Throne meant making a marriage of state.”
“That changed for me when I committed to being with you,” she replied, an edge to her voice. “I’ve told you that countless times.”
“Essla.” I set down the tart and took her hand. It lay limp and cold in mine, nothing there for me to grasp. “The Elskastholrr is about me and my own internal compass. Nothing changed for you. Your loyalty has always been to the High Throne first, as it has to be. You said as much this morning.”
“I was angry.”
“Yes, but you also know it’s true.”
“I don’t know that.”
“Oh, will you abdicate then? Step down and hand over responsibility for your Thirteen Kingdoms to… well, let’s see.” I pretended to think, letting go of her hand to cross my arms and rub my chin thoughtfully. “Andi is next in line, but she’s preoccupied with defending Annfwn and we need her there as she’s our best sorceress. Never mind the political unrest it would cause, putting a shapeshifting sorceress on the High Throne. Then there’s Ami, who’s come a long way but would be the first to tell everyone she’s not equipped to be High Queen—and who you noted won’t be pried out of her cozy nest in Windroven. Astar is your official heir, of course, but I’m not sure a toddler on the throne during a time of war is a good—”
“Just stop it,” she cut me off, scowling. “Do you always have to be so thriced logical about every Danu-cursed thing?”
“Yes.” I took up my strawberry tart again, savoring the sweet that came with the sour. “I do, because you’re the passionate one in this relationship. You are the fiery blade while I’m the cool water of reason.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Says he who declared I’d unleashed the dragon and promised to eat me alive.”
I waved that away. “That was sex.”
“And who came close to killing his brother this morning.”
“A temporary lapse.”
“Who was passionate enough to save his sister and gave up everything to start a new and better life.”
“She gave up her life,” I answered. “She gave up everything. How could I do less?”
Ursula sat back, weary, grief in her eyes. “Harlan—how can you want me to marry another man, your own brother?”
“All I want is to do my best by you, and you need to do your best by your realm. That means accepting this alliance. You’d be marrying into the imperial family of the Dasnarian Empire, gaining a century of reprieve and very likely averting a war. That is a service to the High Throne that will save countless lives and bloodshed. There really isn’t a question here of what you should do.”
“I could marry you,” she pointed out. “You’re full brother to the emperor.”
“No, I’m not. I was disinherited, stripped of rank. In the eyes of my family, I no longer exist.”
“If I’m married to you, and they want this alliance, they might reconsider that.”
Unfamiliar bitterness rose along with my gorge and I regretted drinking so much wine earlier. “I wouldn’t have them,” I bit out.
“Not even for me?” she asked, cagey now, neatly boxing me in. “You say you’ll do whatever I need, but you won’t take back a title that matters nothing to you? Won’t take the opportunity for them to restore what’s rightfully yours, something they should never have taken from you, particularly since you acted only in the best interests of another member of the family?” Ursula tipped her head in thought. “I wonder what Jenna would say you should do?”
I stared at her, astounded. Flummoxed. She’d outmaneuvered me again and I’d never seen it coming. If only I could go back to bed and magically start this entire day anew. “This is why you wanted the story about my eldest sister before you told me about the marriage offer.”
She smiled thinly. “You’re not the only one who’s learned a few things about managing an obstinate spouse.”
“I am not your spouse, hawk,” I ground out.
“Oh, rabbit, you most surely are. All that’s lacking is the actual contract and I happen to know you’ve a deft hand with those.” She raised her brows as she scored the point, letting me know she hadn’t missed my earlier reference to that.
“A missing contract creates a rather large hole.”
“Easily fixed. You’re going to marry me, Harlan, tonight. Your brother will stand witness for you and Zynda for me. Then Kral can deliver the news to Hestar that I’m fortuitously already married to a Prince of Dasnaria, and we can hammer out an agreement of alliance.”
I had no words. “Ursula. I—”
I don’t know what I would’ve said, because the lookout’s alarm shout and the pealing of the warning bells—straight to second-level alarm—dashed everything else from my mind.