I sit beside him, the weight of the decision bowing my spine toward the round table. Dealmakers already possess a great deal of power that isn’t well understood. Giving one access to the resources of a king—especially of the largest reach—could have devastating impacts on the realm. It wouldn’t be unthinkablefor a Dealmaker to bide their time, playing at a fair broker until they’d amassed enough writs to launch a full-scale assault.
“I am willing to be a part of any plan you devise. You know I am behind you to the bitter end. But if ever you decide you have nothing more to lose—consider him.”
As usual, Val knows just what to say to strike me in the heart. He knows as well as I do that that point is already upon us, he’s only giving me the space to pretend it’s my choice.
A massive pain in my ass. But the best friend I’ve ever had.
And the only one I know I can trust to my dying breath.
“Summon him,” I grit through a clenched jaw.
The wolfish demon who appears in a puff of blue smoke examines his black claws as if appearing in random places is an everyday occurrence. For him, it probably is. When he finally looks up, his yellow eyes shift from Valenar to me, then back again. His upper lip retracts just enough to display the points of his canines.
“You’re not looking to amend your deal, are you?” the Dealmaker asks with all the concern of a snake finding an untended warren of kits.
“Not me,” Val says, gesturing my way.
“Your Highness?” the Dealmaker asks, doing a terrible job of seeming uninterested after that revelation. He’s practically salivating.
A prickle of hesitation lingers in the tension of my shoulders. This is a bad idea. There’s got to be another way to save the reach and end this winter. There’s got to be…
I can’t even finish the thought. The dry creaking of bare branches overhead drowns out any concerns I have for myself, replacing them with the urgent need to repair my home.
“Emerald Reach needs your help,” I say, swallowing whatever scraps of pride I have left to bare myself to this glorified grifter.
Taking turns to fill in where the other leaves off, Val and I explain the dire situation we find ourselves in. The Dealmaker met with Farandir toward the end of his reign, so he knows what this reach has suffered, but I don’t have much hope he’ll have a cure for us.
After listening to what we have to say, the Dealmaker considers our predicament, his contemplative silence stretching on until Val starts fidgeting in his seat.
“So, if I’m to understand correctly, you are attempting to earn the approval of the throne, and you intend to do this via endearing your subjects to you?”
When he says it like that, it sounds even more absurd than when we’d discussed it amongst ourselves. An impossible fantasy. The spikes covering my body and the heat in my veins are enough to ensure these people will never accept me. I’d be a fool to convince myself otherwise.
“I knew this was a mistake,” I say, pushing back from the table and nearly toppling my chair as I stand to leave.
I make it only a couple of paces before the Dealmaker appears before me, a small puff of blue smoke around his ankles.
“If this is His Majesty’s level of patience, I am beginning to see the need for assistance,” the Dealmaker says archly, directing a look past me to Valenar.
“So you can help?” Val asks, his voice bearing the smallest bit of hope that I don’t dare let myself kindle.
“I can give you the tools you need, yes,” he says with a curt nod.
“And in exchange?” I ask, voice trembling with emotions threatening to bubble up to the surface. Frustration, fury, despair, and that small glimmer of hope I see reflected in my best friend’s eyes—I don’t know what’s most at risk of boiling over when they’re all mixed in an overwhelming stew.
“We don’t need to concern ourselves with that right now,” the Dealmaker says, the earlier hint of irritation in his voice melting into something more soothing. Placating.
This is too big of a deal for him to screw up, I realize.
Which only makes me wonder again if this is anything I should be getting involved with. The only idea worse than bargaining with a Dealmaker is writing a blank check to one. What might I be dooming the reach to in the future?
Then again, at the rate we’re going, Emerald Reach won’thavea future. Crownwood’s power should be enough to keep outsiders from teleporting into the castle walls. That this Dealmaker could place himself in the keep—the innermost rooms reserved for royals and their business—is a vulnerability that I can’t overlook. If I don’t do something to strengthen this reach soon, it will only be a matter of time before someone tries to take it from me.
Or the Wilds beat them to it.
I grumble my frustration, clenching and unclenching my fists. My life was a lot simpler when I could fight all of my problems, but punching isn’t going to get me anywhere with this one.
“Whatever your price, it cannot bring harm to Emerald Reach or its subjects,” I say through clenched teeth.
