Ally. Friend.
Her eyes shifted back toward her godfather and the Lord Constable, though her true attention remained on Aldric, who stood at her side. Still with her, though the odds of victory had most certainly just turned against her.
What in the world was she supposed to do now? She was officially out of allies—save for Lothmeer, if one could even count Lothmeer.
“Now we just need Mistress Olivia,” she observed to her godfather, “and we can commence with the meeting.”
Duke Percival heaved out a sigh. “Your Majesty,” he said again, clearly fighting to keep his voice level. His tone calm. “There is no need for another meeting because there is nothing left to discuss.There is no strategy that could possibly save Mysai. Itwillfall. All that is left for you to do is to order what troops we have left to evacuate. They can be relocated to Arlund.”
Sir Easome gave a grim nod. “His Grace is right, Your Majesty. We must salvage what soldiers we can while there is still time.”
Salvage the soldiers. Their words slammed home, stopping her heart mid-beat. She had always known this day might come—the day she finally had to bury the hope she could save Mysai.
But knowing didn’t make this moment any easier.
The question that didn’t need to be asked hung between them:
What about the civilians?
The air within the study pressed in too close. Too thick. Against the tight lacings of her gown, she suddenly struggled for breath. How many people were going to die at Arath’s hands if she simply abandoned them there?
How many children?
Her heart clenched as the numbers tumbled through her mind. Her stomach churned as she tried to fathom the sheer enormity of the loss.No. Not now. She couldn’t afford to panic now. She had to remain strong. Resilient.
That was what her people needed most: a queen of action.
Snuffing out her mounting anxiety like a candle’s flame, she wrapped herself in the smoldering vestiges of her anger instead. Her fury must be her armor now. Her shield.
Edmund. This was all Edmund’s doing. Edmund, who had condemned her people to die. She could have saved Mysai—shewouldhave saved Mysai—if only he hadn’t betrayed her. If only he hadn’t broken their treaty.
Without a word, Seraphina turned and drifted across the room to the nearest window. She needed to think, to weigh her options. But there was no time to think. There never was enough time these days.
Looking without seeing, she gazed out over the palace grounds. But even without looking, she was aware of the Crow. Aware that he had followed her. That he again stood at her side—hard, stoic, silent.
“You agree with them, I presume?” she whispered, sounding out the words with care. Each syllable fell sharp. Heavy. An executioner’s blade ready to descend on a portion of her people.
Civilians or soldiers?
Who should she save? Who should she condemn to the unknown?
A low sound rumbled from deep in Aldric’s chest—a thoughtful noise. “You already know what I would do, kirei,” he whispered back without looking her way. His own one-eyed gaze remained on the window, on the cold, gray world beyond. “But what I would do isn’t the question you should be asking yourself right now.”
Her eyebrows knit together. She was no closer to understanding this strange man than she had been last night. Not after learning about Reyla. Nor after he had made his one surprising demand regarding their terms of peace—that she start treatinghim like a consort.
“And here I thought you wanted me to care about your opinion?”
His lips twitched. Finally, he deigned to meet her gaze. “I do. So thisismy opinion: make the choice that you can live with for the rest of your life. Life is full of difficult choices, the consequences of which we have to live with afterward. It doesn’t matter what choice I would make here because you’re the one who has to live with it.” After a beat, he added, “And you hardly need one more reason to resent me.”
Despite the dire circumstances, she couldn’t help but indulge in a fleeting smile at that. Resentment? No, she didn’t resent him, despite the fact that just yesterday morning, she had been certain she hated him. But that had just been her wounded feelings talking.
Aldric Hargrave was an odd man, it was true. A cold man. A living, breathing puzzle.
But he was also steady. Unyielding. Fierce.
The exact sort of man she wanted on her side in this, Elmoria’s darkest hour.
“Thank you for your opinion,” she murmured, surprising even herself with the words.
