Chapter Forty-Five

I was in councils with Bree all the next day, but she never met my eyes. We talked with my grandmother, my mother, the Serene Envoy to Callamorne, and various generals and advisers about the new situation on the border. Sevaeth had withdrawn many of its forces, and while Kazerath hadn’t moved its troops, they showed no signs of preparations for immediate attack. At the very least, they were rethinking their strategy after the Conclave and the diminished eruption. We had gained a reprieve, it would seem; and with snow likely to close the passes within the month, the reprieve might well last until spring.

After the last strategy discussion finally dispersed, my mother pulled me aside in a tapestried alcove outside the council chamber—the sort of small space with padded benches where people might wait before being called in to a meeting. It was the first moment we’d had alone together since she’d come to Callamorne. All yesterday through the memorial and banquet we’d been on display, and all today we’d been in council.

She read my face as if it were a book, her brows pinching a faint divot between them in the warm, flickering light of the alcove’s oil lamps. And then she folded me in her arms.

I breathed in the familiar scent of her perfume, her auburn hair tickling my nose. I could almost be a little girl again, whose most wrenching decision was which book to read at bedtime.

“It’s hard,” she said softly. “I know. But you’ll be all right.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was exactly what I was afraid of. La Contessa had made her peace with deciding the lives and deaths of others long ago.

“You did well at the Conclave,” my mother said then, releasing me, her mouth stirring in a faint smile. “That should secure you quite a reputation. Amalia Cornaro, with the iron nerves to negotiate successfully with Witch Lords.”

“This isn’t over,” I fretted. “There are still at least three, possibly four Witch Lords bent on invasion. And Mamma, I’ve been wanting to ask you—what is Lord Caulin up to?” I dropped my voice. “He ordered me to kill any Falcons who I couldn’t get out of Vaskandar.”

La Contessa’s eyes narrowed. “And you disobeyed?”

“Of course. I’m not a murderer.” I thought of Roland, and my breath caught for a moment. But there was a difference between killing and murder. I held that distinction close, though I was well aware some of my academic colleagues might ably debate the point for hours. “Is that going to cause problems? Was that order really from the doge?”

“That is a very interesting question, and one I suspect Niro would not give me a straight answer to if I asked.” My mother rolled her string of black pearls between her fingers. “There is a shift happening in the Council of Nine. The Assembly is on the verge of finally completing the election of Baron Leodra’s successor, and it seems likely that Lord Caulin will win his seat.”

“Unfortunate.” I shook my head in disgust.

My mother shrugged. “He has some useful qualities. He’ll be better than Leodra was. But he is not compassionate. He sees the Falcons as resources—weapons of war—and he urges the doge and Council to hold them close.” She leveled a frank, penetrating gaze at me. “He will be your opponent, because of your Falcon law. If he learns you disobeyed the order, he’ll use it against you. As he would have if you had complied.”

I let out an uneven breath. “I was afraid of that.”

“You’re a full player of the game at last, Amalia.” My mother brushed a lock of hair back from my neck, a gleam of ironic amusement in her eyes. “Congratulations. Now things will get difficult for you.”

Graces help me. My vision of a perfect future—relaxing with a good book and a glass of fine wine in my personal library, with Marcello leaning warm against me—blurred with the haze of endless political struggle. The Serene City was never going to let me rest.

“What do I do?” I asked, trying not to sound like a nervous child.

“Gather your resources.” My mother’s voice was wise and hard with decades of experience. “Build your power. Collect allies—people with influence, certainly, but competency and loyalty are far more important. You’re off to a good start there.”

I thought of Marcello, Zaira, and perhaps even Kathe—he was terrifyingly loyal, in his own way, though I couldn’t trust him to express it in a manner I would find comfortable. “Yes,” I agreed. “I am.”

“Keep those people close,” my mother said softly. “You’ll need them.”

The following morning, Zaira and I set out on an errand that would take us away from Durantain for a few days. We had a full escort of soldiers, including Marcello. I’d already said good-bye to my grandmother, and my mother had departed for Raverra an hour earlier; I didn’t expect anyone to see us off. But as I prepared to climb into my carriage, a voice called from behind me.

“Oy! Amalia!”

It was Bree, striding toward me, a look of determination on her face. I braced myself for another slap.

But she threw her arms around me in a hug. She released me quickly, with a sad smile; I couldn’t tell if it was the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks that made it seem stiffer than usual.

“Be careful, all right?”

“I will.” I tried to pour all my love for her into my return smile. But my memory still rang with her words from the other night: Coldblooded monster. “We won’t be gone long.”

Bree turned to Zaira, clasping her arm encouragingly. “Grace of Luck go with you.”

“Luck won’t be enough,” Zaira groaned. “There’s no escaping this.” She glanced toward Terika, who was supervising the loading of her alchemical supplies into our carriage. She had to return to the Mews to get a new Falconer soon, but Marcello had granted her leave for this one trip first.

“Not that I want to,” Zaira added.

After a couple of days of smooth travel under sunny skies, we finally came to a small farm tucked into a rock-strewn meadow, near a familiar village high in the mountains. A pair of goats browsed outside a well-kept wooden cottage, and fresh candles stood at a tidy shrine to the Grace of Bounty. Zaira, Terika, and I descended from the carriage and approached on foot; fat brown hens scattered indignantly before us.

Terika clasped Zaira’s hand, giving her a bright-eyed glance. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty,” Zaira said shortly. She looked as pale as I’d ever seen her.

“Are you scared?” Terika grinned.

“No!” Zaira glared at the polished wooden door before her. “Maybe. A little.”

Terika dropped her voice to a spooky rumble. “You should be.”

And she threw open the door. “Baba, I’m home!”

I hung back as Terika’s grandmother welcomed Zaira into the house with open arms, smothering a smile as Zaira became the alarmed recipient of an enthusiastic hug. I was only here as her Falconer, after all; this moment wasn’t for me.

But I couldn’t stop grinning at the sound of a delighted old voice from within the cottage, telling Zaira how she’d heard so much about her, and Zaira’s surprisingly respectful mumbles in response.

I wandered farther from the cottage to give them privacy, across a lumpy stubble of grass kept short by the hungry goats, each exhalation making a brief, sharp cloud in the crisp air. It was Zaira’s life, I reminded myself. Graces forgive me, though, but I couldn’t help thinking whom I’d recommend if they happened to find themselves in need of wedding dresses.

“Pssst,” a familiar voice called. “Over here.”

Kathe. Of course.

I scanned the windswept meadow but saw only birds searching and pecking in the grass for the last seeds of autumn. Then I spotted him in the branches of a low, scraggly apple tree, which he shared with three black crows.

I glanced back toward the road, where our escort waited. The swell of the hill blocked them from sight. But I supposed I was as safe with the Crow Lord as I’d ever been.

“I should have known you’d turn up,” I said, approaching the tree.

He leaped down from the branches, landing nimbly as a cat. “Naturally. You can’t get rid of crows so easily.”

The sun caught on his sharp cheekbones, flaring in the mad yellow rings of the mage mark in his eyes. For a moment, the memory of his kiss came over me strong as a storm wave, and I wanted very badly to try those lips again.

But the twinge in my side whenever I took a deep breath reminded me of the dangers of trusting him. I frowned at him, vexed.

His eyes flicked back and forth over my face, reading whatever was written there. “I should have told you what I was planning, with the Lady of Thorns.”

“Yes, you should have.”

He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I was afraid that if I asked you to help, you wouldn’t act surprised enough and would give away the plan.”

I spread my arms. “If you truly want to convince me to enter into a scheme of world domination with you, you need to show yourself capable of conspiring with as well as conspiring against.”

“We’re not used to that in Vaskandar,” he said ruefully. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Hmm.” I crossed my arms, considering him. “Can you give me one good reason I should allow you to continue courting me?”

He lifted a finger. “I can do better than that.”

“Let me guess. A game.”

“Of course.” He grinned. “For every reason you give me why we shouldn’t court, I’ll give you two reasons why we should.”

I almost made some tart response, but an edge of desperation showed in the tautness around his eyes. This was the only way he knew how to interact with people, I realized. I hadn’t seen him play this kind of game with his enemies. These were his courtship gifts, which he placed before me like a crow presenting some shiny discarded bauble to its hopeful mate.

I sighed. “Very well. For starters, you nearly got me killed, and I have a broken rib to show for it.”

“I did.” He bowed, sweeping his feathered cloak before him. “And to make it up to you, for my two reasons, I offer you both my full cooperation and that of the domain of Let in your efforts to counter Ruven. Reconnaissance crows, staging troops out of Let, magical assistance, whatever you need.”

I stared at him. “Truly?”

“If we’re courting.” A spark danced in his eyes. “I could do no less for the woman I admire so much. I should add that my efforts would be at your disposal, not that of the Serene Empire.”

Grace of Majesty. Even aside from the advantages such an alliance would give us in war, that would give me enormous leverage over the doge and the Council. I stopped myself from clutching the claws that still hung at my chest. I couldn’t let him see how my breath had quickened.

“But Ruven has no reason to invade the Empire.” I forced my voice to be deliberately casual. “He’s got his domain. His ploy with the volcano has failed. Your offer of an alliance against him doesn’t mean much if he settles down to rule Kazerath like a good neighbor.”

Kathe raised an eyebrow. “You don’t really believe he’ll do that, do you? When he has the capability to put anyone he poisons under his complete control? You know the man. Do you think he’ll accept defeat graciously, and be content to rule his inheritance in peace?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Especially when he knows that half the Witch Lords in Vaskandar think he should be put down like a rabid animal now.” Kathe shook his head. “He’s no fool. He knows he has to build his power base quickly, until even the eldest won’t want to challenge him directly. The fastest way for him to gain an advantage the rest of us can’t easily counter is to try to seize the power of your Empire—its land and Falcons both.”

It made too much sense. “But Sevaeth, at least, is surely out of the picture. The Lady of Thorns’ daughter is in no position to mount a war.”

“Not with the Lady of Lynxes pouncing on her from the north,” Kathe agreed. “But that conflict will resolve itself soon enough. If she’s smart, she’ll let the lynx bite off a piece of her domain, and consolidate her power in the south. Once the dust settles, if she’s still around, she’s deep in Ruven’s debt, and will be his creature.” He shrugged. “You still have the Lady of Bears and the Serpent Lord eager for war, too, but frankly, Ruven is dangerous enough on his own. Any other reasons?”

I tapped my chin. “With the Lady of Thorns gone, we don’t have a common interest. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“What’s the fun in courting someone you know you can trust?” He winked. “But if you prefer a boring life, reassure yourself I have as much desire to see Ruven gone as you do. My domain borders his, and I don’t fancy a cruel, power-hungry Skinwitch for a neighbor. And for my second reason, you know that I want this courtship to succeed.” He grimaced. “I’m aware I’m on my last chance. I can’t pretend I’m going to stop liking surprises, but I’ll try to keep them somewhat less dangerous.”

I held his gaze. “All right, here’s another reason. My heart belongs to someone else.”

He winced, and for a moment I felt a twinge of sympathy. But then he laughed, setting the crows in the tree above us to flapping in startlement.

“My lady, you and I know courtship is not a matter of the heart.”

“Isn’t it?” I challenged him, putting my hands on my hips.

“No.” His voice went serious then. “But the heart has everything to do with love. And love is a sacred thing, something you give freely and can never take back. It’s not a matter for games.”

“And courtship is a game.” I sighed. “I suppose that’s accurate.”

“As for my second reason …” He grinned. “I can only ask you to give me time. Most likely either I’ll grow on you, or you’ll have enough of me and ask your warlock friend to light me on fire.”

I couldn’t suppress a laugh. Pain flared in my rib, however, and I smothered it, wincing. “Fair enough.”

“So, are we still courting, then?” Kathe asked, tilting his head.

I thought of Marcello, waiting patiently down the hill. And Ruven, winding his will deeper through his domain, considering his next course of action, stockpile of potion in hand. Not to mention my Falcon reform law, which I’d need every edge I could get to pass through the Assembly, especially if Lord Caulin was working against it.

“I’m not so rash as to break things off on an impulse,” I said. “And a continued alliance against Ruven seems mutually beneficial.”

Kathe’s mouth pulled into a wry smile. “How dazzlingly romantic.”

Warmth flushed my cheeks. “Would you prefer we negotiated these matters by candlelight while boating under the Lovers’ Bridge with a bottle of wine?”

“That sounds lovely. I accept your invitation.” He reached out and took my hand, bowing over it with amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’ll call on you when you’re back in Raverra.”

I swallowed my protest and let him kiss my hand. The warm pressure of his lips sent a tingling jolt up my arm. “I look forward to it.”

And curse him, despite everything, I did.

I made my way down toward the cottage and spied Terika and Zaira through the window. They sat together by the glowing fireplace, leaning against each other and laughing as a tortoiseshell cat attempted to nibble Zaira’s hair. Terika’s grandmother rocked in a quilt-covered chair nearby, smiling indulgently and knitting. I swerved toward the road; they didn’t need me now.

Marcello met me halfway, his green eyes soft and thoughtful. “Can we go for a walk?” he asked.

Graces, he was just what I needed right now. Someone safe, someone comforting, whom I could talk to without worrying about what secrets we were hiding from each other. Someone with whom I could be myself, and not a Cornaro or a Lochaver or a descendant of the Lady of Eagles.

We could always be that for each other. No matter what either of us decided about whom we courted or whom we married. I needed to stop worrying about what would happen in an unknown future and simply be his friend in the present.

“Yes,” I said. “I’d like that very much.”

We strolled down the road together, away from our escort of soldiers, who huddled in conversation with their coats pulled close and their backs to the cold, and from the cottage where Zaira appeared to be hitting it off splendidly with Terika’s grandmother. For a while, we walked in agreeable silence, through the dry, frozen meadow under the bright sun. Then the road ducked into a stand of low pines, breaking our line of sight to the others, and Marcello stopped.

“I can’t stop thinking about the Falcons,” he said in a low voice. Trouble weighed down his brows. “Emmand, who ran from us when we were trying to help him. Harrald, who didn’t want to come back. The captured Falcons who came back to us not because they wanted to, but because the other alternatives were even worse.” He swallowed. “I love the Falconers. The Mews saved Istrella and me; it’s our home. But it can’t be that way for everyone, no matter how hard I try to make it so. And I should have seen that a long time ago.”

I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Then help me change things. I’m going to try to push this law through the Assembly when I get back to Raverra. If you can get me Colonel Vasante’s support, a lot more people will give it credence.”

He nodded, resolve straightening his shoulders. “I’ll try.”

“Thanks.” I sighed. “I hope I can manage it. I’m new at all this.”

“You’ll do fine,” he assured me, smiling. “You’re La Contessa’s daughter, after all.”

You are truly prepared to rule. My grandmother’s words blended together in my memory with Bree’s: Coldblooded monster. They might be the same thing. I winced.

Marcello reached a hand toward my face, then checked it, his fingers curling in on themselves and hovering uncertainly in the air between us. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid.” I took his hand and cradled it in both of mine, feeling its warmth and the hard sword calluses on his palm. I needed this now, the comfort of a warm and gentle human touch, and I had nowhere else to turn for it. “I’m afraid of what I might be becoming. I killed Roland. He was my cousin, and I loved him, and I killed him.”

“You made the hard choice that needed to be made. It’s the same in the military.” By the shadows crossing his face, he’d had to come to terms with such choices himself. “Someone has to do it, Amalia.”

“I know. There was no way around the decision.” I drew in a shuddery breath. “But who am I to decide who lives and dies? The doge would have been willing to destroy an entire city and kill thousands of people to prove a point, last year. I don’t want to reckon lives as nothing more than pieces on a board. If I can kill my own cousin, how am I any different?”

“Because you do care.” He held my gaze, his green eyes intense. “I know you, Amalia. You won’t stop caring, even if you have to make decisions that sacrifice lives. And that’s why you’re the one who should make them.”

“Help me keep caring, Marcello.” I squeezed his hand tight. “Year after year, until I’m old and withered and jaded. Don’t let me harden my heart, no matter how much I want it to stop hurting. No matter what I have to do.”

“I promise,” he whispered. “I will.”

Above us, a crow called, its raucous laugh scraping at the sky.