Behind us, Callum snorts. “Throw a stick and you’ll hit one.”
“No wonder your weapons are so fine,” Asher says, musing. It’s the first thing he’s said since we left the people near the city gates.
Jory looks at him in surprise. “Are they?”
He nods, then shrugs a little. “Nicer than mine, anyway.”
“Incendrian steel costs amintin Perriden,” says Lady Charlotte, and there’s a hint of envy in her voice. “One of the courtiers in the palace had a set of hairpins, and she never let ustouchthem.”
“You can get a dozen hairpins for a few coppers here in Lastalorre,” says Sev, and Lady Charlotte gasps.
“Iron is heavy,” I add. “It’s difficult—and costly—to transport a lot at once. Incendar does not export much.” I don’t add that we’re often wary of our weapons getting into the hands of Draeg forces. Sometimes the strength of our steel is the only advantage we have against their army, which has three times as many soldiers as I have.
“But you have a lot here,” Jory says, looking up and around at the buildings as we pass. Another gust of wind whips through the buildings to tug at the tendrils of her hair that have pulled loose from her braids. She still looks so fierce and beautiful, and I wish I could erase the tension that has built between us, but I’m not sure how.
“Iron is everywhere in the palace,” I say to her, encouraged by the fact that she’s talking. “Some of the metalwork is centuries old. It’s really quite beautiful.”
She turns cool eyes my way. “Did you know your people were so angry?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have been encouraged at all. I let out a breath. “Princess—”
“You asked me for truth between us. Perhaps I should have asked you for the same thing.”
“I will give you truth,” I say quietly. “Yes. I did know.”
“Did your magic cause these droughts?”
“No.”
Her eyes stare into mine, hard.
I stare right back at her. “I do not have weather magic,” I say. “I can summon flame, but fire is fire—and as you saw, if there is fuel to burn, it will spread and multiply until there is none.”
“Has your magic caused these fires, then?”
I hesitate, thinking of my sister. “No.”
She considers this for a long moment. The horses plod on.
Eventually she turns to look at me again. “Those were simple people. Your soldiers are armed for war. You would have killed those children.”
I nearly flinch. Her voice is very low, very quiet, but I’m very aware of the people in the streets, and she might as well have shouted the words. She might as well be branding them on my skin.
I think of little Hannah’s cool fingers pressing into my palm as she tugged at my hand.
I imagine my soldiers tearing her apart, the way they’d tear apart an opponent on the battlefield. My brain has no trouble imagining it. I’ve seen worse. This will probably haunt my sleep for the next week.
My eyes are fixed ahead, but I don’t see Lastalorre anymore, I see every terrible thing that’s happened on the front lines of the war. I’ve clenched my right hand into a fist to keep from sketching a sigil, because I don’t want to draw any attention to myself in front of my people. Not now. But the strain is building in my body, until I feel like I’m going to burst into a ball of flame myself.
I haven’t said anything, and her expression darkens with anger. “They aredesperate. You are theirking. I know what you’ve gone through with Dane. But your people came to you with complaints, and you nearly turned—”
“Jory. Stop.”
She stops short. To my surprise, it’s Asher’s voice.
I can’t even turn to look at him. Every muscle in my body has gone taut and rigid, and I didn’t even realize it.
The princess is still staring at me. Fury is a lit match in her eyes. Her chest is rising and falling like she wants to resume her tirade.
