Honovi met her gaze across the desk, studying her in the soft glow coming from the nearby gas lamp. He’d learned a lot about politicking from his father, during his trade runs, and here in Amari. That experience allowed him to choose his words carefully.
“Probably more than you would like, Fulcrum.”
The duchess’ expression never changed. Neither did she flinch at his words or give away any hint of unease with her body. She was too old for that, he knew. Too well-mannered and too sharply honed to break in the face of such a statement. It made her reaction from earlier all the more telling.
“An accusation like that could be ruining for an Ashionen,” the duchess finally said.
“As I’m not Ashionen, you must forgive me my missteps.”
“Of course, Ambassador.”
“I think after tonight, you may call me Honovi.”
“In private, perhaps. I suppose you think I should offer you the same permission?”
Honovi shrugged. “I’ll address you however you wish.”
He waited her out, the seconds ticking down on the clock, before she nodded slightly. “You may call me Meleri in private if we are to work together.”
“I’m not one of your cogs.”
“Your husband is.”
Honovi showed his teeth in a smile that wasn’t friendly in the least. “My husband’s duty is to the girl lying in that bed, not to you.”
“They are one and the same.”
“Are they?”
Meleri splayed her hand over the desk, veins standing out against thin skin. “You must understand what she will mean to those of us who remember the monarchy we had before the Inferno happened. She is everything we have prayed for.”
“Does she know that?”
The duchess tapped a finger against the desk, gaze steady. “Caris keeps her secrets the same way we keep ours.”
Honovi tipped his head to the side. “Her magic.”
Meleri’s mouth turned down at the corners in a dissatisfied moue. “Blaine really must watch his tongue.”
“He is my husband. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“Perhaps you should think to.”
“Don’t presume to tell me how to walk my road with my husband.”
Meleri lifted her hand. “Peace. I mean nothing ill by my words. Only that the Daijal court has eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Apparently they have a Blade as well.”
“More like Eimarille does. For all that Bernard wears the crown, he doesn’t wield the power he thinks he does. The Twilight Star chose Eimarille for a reason, and that wasn’t to give Bernard a place in history.”
“You seem to know a lot about what happens in the Daijal court despite never leaving Ashion.”
“An old woman like me is prone to gossip.”
“I’m sure you’d like others to believe that.” Honovi’s gaze strayed around the room for a moment, lingering on the intricate artwork hanging above the credenza with its metal pieces, clockwork gears, and clarion crystal shards. “Blaine tells me you’ve uncovered what the death-defying machine does. What will you do about it?”
“Blueprints and memories aren’t enough proof to accuse anyone of the misdeeds we know are happening. Proof would be finding the machine itself.”
