Barley lets out a scoff. “Thatpublicbelieves such things because Queen Kaila has backed that narrative.”
“My sister has done what she must in order to keep Fifth stable after such a horrific event.”
“Yes, there’s no doubt you have all been hard at work at crowning the new king of Fifth,” Isalee says.
Her statement cuts with an underlying edge.
Manu gives her a bland smile. “The fact of the matter is, we have two dead monarchs, and the people are demanding answers. Wehaveto call for a Conflux.” His gaze tracks to Slade. “Which is why I’m here to formally call both you and Lady Auren to attend.”
Slade leans forward, his power coiling beneath his skin. “We decline.”
The first show of emotion appears in the frustration that pinches Manu’s lips together. “I’m sure you’d like to, King Ravinger, but a king is dead because of what happened that night in Ranhold. You know as well as I do that the situation demands it.”
“And yet, as my Premier has pointed out, there was no trial when King Fulke was killed.”
Manu’s expression tells me this is the last thing he wanted Slade to bring up. He covers it well, though, with a sardonic twist of his lips. “King Fulke’s death, although still tragic, was completely different. He was betrayed by his own people. The man who killed him was already put to death for his crimes.”
“Claimed the king who had everything to gain with Fulke’s death.”
Manu laughs. “Come now, Ravinger. King Midas was a long-standing ally to King Fulke.”
Slade looks back at him, completely unimpressed. “Allies turn on each other all the time. Do they not?”
Another barbed question.
Manu’s expression holds a smile that somehow manages to be leached of anything pleasant.
“I can see we are not going to come to any sort of healthy discourse tonight, Your Majesty, so let me tell it to you bluntly.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scroll, handing it to him. When Slade doesn’t open it, Manu says, “It’s all laid out for you there. First and Second are in agreement with us. Lady Auren must stand trial.”
“And I’ve already said, we decline.”
“I would think long and hard about that, King Ravinger,” he replies, motioning toward the scroll. “Because depending on your answer, First Kingdom and Second Kingdom are ready to put a block on their trade coming into your kingdom as well. We both know your own kingdom—spread with wetlands and rot—cannot sustain the food your people need. Your kingdom can’t survive without us. So unless you agree to send her, all trade agreements will officially be halted.”
I thought the room’s silence was gluttonous before, but this one is downrightinsatiable. It gorges itself on us, devouring every word, every movement, until we’re halted by its consuming mouthfuls.
Warken is the first to break through it. “I see. And are your kingdoms prepared to live without Fourth’s exports? Last I checked, Third in particular wasverykeen on buying up more rights to our oil supplies—without a lot of wood to burn in their area, they rely on our oil for eighty percent of their lantern oil.”
“The monarchs have decided that justice is far more important.”
Slade slowly rises to his feet. Manu’s bobbing throat is the only tell of apprehension that shows through as Slade’s hands brace against the table. “Tell your sister she’s not the only one who can starve a kingdom,” he practically growls. “I will rot her land from march to beach, leaving nothing in its wake. Or maybe I’ll just rotyou, right here and right now, and really send a message.”
I flinch at the threat, watching his lines pulse beneath the skin at his neck.
Manu shoves his own chair back, its shrill scrape making my ears cringe. “I can see we’re done here for the night,” he says coolly. “I will stay for one week, King Ravinger, and then on the seventh day, I must have your final answer.” His gaze strays to the others. “I suggest you advise your king carefully, especially on the threats of rotting entire kingdoms. We all know your army is the strongest in Orea, but right now, we also know that your army is fatigued from traveling to Fifth and back. Can a tired army—even under the direction of your twisted Commander Rip—defeatfourother kingdoms?”
He hums beneath his breath as he looks back at Slade, running his hands down to straighten his shirt, pulling the luminescent blue to swell and settle like lapping waves. “All we’re asking for is a fair trial, as is the right of our joined alliances. Do not be so quick to declare war on the rest of Orea, King Ravinger, to be responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. And remember, you and your rot cannot be everywhere at once.”
Manu’s eyes find me for a split second before he turns and drifts away, the door shutting behind him like the slap of a tidal wave that threatens to swallow us whole.
When Slade relays everything to Lu, Judd, and Digby, it’s met with a commotion of blunt anger and cursed threats. Except for Dig—who’s reaction isn’t one of noise, but of the burrowing of his scowl.
“Fucking Queen Kaila,” Lu says with a shake of her head, the shape of the dagger shorn into her hair looking sharper with the warm light cast off from the fireplace.
We’re in a new room I haven’t been to before, this one on the top floor, just a few doors down from Slade’s personal rooms. There isn’t much in here apart from a large table at the center and a small bar top to the left with bottles and goblets just waiting to be poured and filled. A scattering of glasses is set around the table, clutched in hands or left abandoned.
“How long?” Judd asks.
Slade takes a long drink before he answers. “Warken and Barley ran the numbers. If we implement rationing immediately across the entire kingdom, we can keep our people fed solely on reserves for...roughly four weeks without any imports.”
