Kasira gave herself a moment without Allaster’s presence. A breath in which to center herself on her task, to become the version of herself she had been only weeks prior: a woman who wanted only to do her job and take back her life, no matter the collateral damage.
She would need that woman to make it through the next few hours.
For rather than garnering support as Allaster wanted, she would remind each of these leaders exactly what they had to lose if Vera did not win, and she would do it all with a smile on her face. She had no other choice, and yet the thought of it made her sick.
In Belvar, she had coiled around herself in the darkness. Even the smallest flicker of emotion had scorched her like a flame. It had become so much easier to let herself go numb. The day she had finally stepped free of that cell, so many things had followed her from the dark. The anxiety was the worst. Her chest grew so tight there wasn’t room for her lungs, the pressure in her stomach like a fist. There was no controlling her thoughts or her body when it happened, and so the easiest thing had been to seal it all away.
To feel nothing—like death.
But in death, the bones of things became exposed. She could no longer pretend there was nothing inside of her. After feigning life for so long, at some point, she had actually begun to live, and if she wanted any chance at protecting those she had come to care about, she would do what must be done, even if it meant losing the Library. Losing May.
Losing Allaster.
Truth, she thought; then, more wryly:What would you think of me now, Loraya?
Ambassador Vera was already in the room, going over notes in a far corner. Kasira skirted the room to avoid her and approached Arch Minister Cernos, who was enjoying a refreshing iced herbal drink by the nearest window with the Minister of Beasts, who had introduced himself in the portal room as Minister Iglacia.
She smiled at each of them as she approached. “Are you enjoying the mural, ministers?”
“It’s truly a work of art,” Iglacia replied with a nod of respect.
“The work of a Riviairen mage, no doubt,” said the Arch Minister. He had a round, serious face, with a wide nose balancing a pair of wire-framed spectacles. Allaster had described him to her as earnest and steadfast, a reasonable mind, who took great pride in his country and his place at its head. Alongside Queen Sarren, he was one of Allaster’s greatest concerns, as he had a tendency to view matters like this in terms of business. If Allaster’s position as Librarian threatened Riviairen trade, the Arch Minister would be far more likely to oust Allaster.
“Indeed,” Kasira agreed with a dip of her head. “Her name was Liava Neras. She was at Amorlin nearly three hundred years ago. Liava is responsible for all the stained glass in the Library, as it was her personal mission to, quote, ‘bring a touch of life to the place.’ Apparently, she found it quite drab.” She winked at them, earning a small smile from Iglacia.
Cernos only lifted his chin higher. “Do not presume to quote my own history back at me, Assistant.”
“Of course.” Kasira bowed her head, and the sudden deference seemed to put Cernos off-kilter.
His dark eyes narrowed at her. “You are not quite what I expected, Lady Kasira.”
“Oh?”
He set aside his empty glass. “Ambassador Vera painted you as uncouth, an insult to the Library’s legacy. She said you were a criminal and that the Paratal has condemned your soul.”
Kasira had assumed that Vera would have done her own work among the other dignitaries, but as usual, the Ambassador hadn’t deigned to inform her of it. “The Paratal also sleeps in a room of four white walls and thinks artistry a distraction from the divine.”
“Then you are not in fact a criminal?” Cernos asked, refusing to be deterred.
She didn’t let her smile falter. “I am the Assistant Librarian of Amorlin, Your Excellency.”
“But you were not the chosen candidate,” Cernos pressed. “It is illegal to impersonate the Assistant Librarian, though the ability to prosecute that lies only with the Library. What is it about you that convinced a man like Allaster St. Archer to forgive such a transgression? Are you sleeping with him?”
Kasira’s mask nearly broke at the directness of the question, and she had to give Cernos credit. Whether he meant to or not, asking questions like that was a good way to gather information: You learned a lot by how someone responded. Which was why Kasira let her expression falter between unease and embarrassment. Just enough to let the Arch Minister think that, perhaps, he was correct.
“Allaster accepted me as Assistant because I am well suited for the role, Your Excellency,” she said. “A relationship of that nature would be inappropriate, particularly with things as they stand.”
“Meaning?”
Kasira’s gaze slid to the Malik at Vera’s back. “The Conclave, of course. I must be impartial. I have no desire to provoke the Ambassador’s ire further.”
Iglacia exchanged a knowing look with Cernos, who crept closer to Kasira. “Are you suggesting Ambassador Vera intends to take this matter further if the Conclave fails to convict?”
“I can’t pretend to know the Ambassador’s mind.” Rumors of war between Kalthos and the Library had abounded for months, and for Riviair, whose was a peacetime economy, there could be no worse outcome.
Cernos looked ready to press, but Iglacia briefly laid a hand on his arm. “I think that’s enough,” he said softly. The small touch had a transformative effect on the Arch Minister, who all but sighed audibly.
Kasira filed that little tidbit away for later and nodded at the Arch Minister’s empty glass. “Another, Your Excellency?”
