She gazed at the men around the table—some looked indifferent, others looked ready to protest, but dared not speak out against Duke Krantz. She smiled back at them, displaying a level of confidence she did not feel. Mother said a smile was her power; it could disarm her enemies and keep them guessing before her next move. But she didn’t think they were disarmed at all. If anything, she felt like a fool. She sat back down. Jonathan gave her a comforting smile from across the table, and she was grateful to have him there with her.
Mother regularly worked with these men. They respected her, to some degree. And when Aristea became empress, they’d have to respect her too. This was why she’d come after all, to win their devotion and loyalty. But when she looked at them, she felt the lack of Heinrich in their midst. He’d been close to all of them. Scheming, cavorting. She shook off the specter of him from her thoughts. She didn’t need him or Duke Mattison or any man behind her to rule this country; she was strong enough on her own.
The discussion wasn’t much different from any she’d experienced in a women’s salon. They discussed banal things: their investments, their land, their horses, and their hunting dogs. One man started to mention his mistress but was cut off by a strong glare from Duke Krantz, then teased by his compatriots. Aristea mostly listened, and as the whiskey flowed, they became more relaxed in her presence, as if they’d forgotten she was there at all. Nothing they could say was too shocking; she’d heard Heinrich say more and worse.
Then, when she felt the moment was right, she struck. “I’m glad we had a moment to talk. You were all my husband’s friends, once.”
But it was as if a hound had seen a rabbit. The room tensed as they all looked at her. Aristea suddenly felt as if she were sitting on a stage, lights burning into her eyes.
“A good man,” Lord Northangel said. He took a long swig of his drink, draining the glass of its amber liquid.
“You used to do a lot of business for my husband, I heard. Perhaps you could tell me more about it?” Aristea said, testing the waters.
There were furtive glances around the room. And Aristea felt as if she were walking along a blade’s edge once more.
“I don’t know if now’s the right time for such a discussion, your majesty.”
“Duke Spiess was just discussing the sale of his sheep. What’s wrong with discussing business?” Aristea said, playing coy.
Duke Krantz cleared his throat—a warning for her or Lord Northangel, she couldn’t be sure.
Aristea had two choices at that moment—Either she played dumb and lost any chance of their respect, or she grasped this chance while she had it.
She decided to barrel forward. “Is it because you’re still dealing in stardust?” It was a wild guess, but whether he was involved or not, she wanted it out in the open to break the seal and let them know she was willing to overlook it to join hands for a common goal.
The silence was deafening. The men shifted uneasily in their seats and refused to look at Aristea directly.
“You don’t need to pretend it doesn’t exist on my account. I knew what my husband was working on creating soldiers for his own personal army.”
Northangel leaned across the table. “We’re allowed men-at-arms, are we not? As leaders of the sovereign nations of the empire, it’s only fair we arm ourselves against the growing threats from the north and beyond...”
“Of course. And I am not opposed to your business ventures, as long as our goals are aligned.”
“What if our goals don’t align with the church?” Duke Krantz asked.
Aristea raised a brow, but a chill was running up her spine. The church was the backbone of the empire. It was the Avatheos’ support that had helped Mother claim her throne. They couldn’t be implying that the church was the problem.
“My sister is the avatar; you need not worry about the church.”
“But the Starwebers’ involvement in the church is the problem, isn’t it?”
They looked back and forth between one another.
Aristea’s mouth felt dry, and sweat was drenching her palms. She wanted to wipe it off on her gown, but she feared the slightest twitch from her would reveal her feelings about these blasphemous thoughts.
“The church and the empire are intertwined. They have been since our founding.”
“But is that what’s best for the empire?” Duke Krantz set down his glass heavily. “Heinrich was leading an investigation into stardust’s properties and its effect in awakening dormant magic. The church has been keeping secrets about magic in the realm. Careful administration of stardust on the right bloodlines has yielded impressive results. It makes soldiers stronger, and we’re close to uncovering a way to bring magic back to the people. So it’s not just under the thumb of the church.”
“To what end?” Aristea asked, her chest constricting. Were they plotting sedition?
The men around the table shared a look as if they were silently deciding whether to speak with her or not.
“You must feel how the tide has turned. Your mother became empress thanks in part to the support of the Avatheos. But now he has your sister, the goddess’ chosen, he’s named her. And he’s made your brother into a holy warrior when a faction is already rallying behind him. None of us wants civil war, but we fear it is inevitable. The church has gained too much power and influence over the governance of this country. It’s time we arm ourselves.”
It was sacrilege to speak thusly, but Aristea feared speaking out would silence them, so she waited as he continued, “If we regained control of magic, think of the implications. In defense against other countries or battles from within. We’d be able to expand our borders and grow the empire in ways that haven’t been possible in centuries.”
“But the stardust is killing people.”
