“Within Daijal? No, it’s too difficult to cordon off from travelers leaving the roads and wardens mapping the borders. I’m talking about the land within Solaria. It’s less an issue with acreage than it is with my conniving sister who guides that country.”
Eimarille would never insult a star god in such a way, but Innes wasn’t bound by mortal restraint and manners. They’d always known their plans were at risk from being uncovered by Innes’ brethren. Daijal was his to do with as he pleased since the civil war, but borders had never been binding on one such as himself.
“We had an experimental field near Bellingham last year,” Kote said as he finished pouring tea for everyone and brought the serving tray to the desk. “My understanding is we lost the test revenants to a warden after they escaped.”
“We lost them to greed.” Innes glanced over his shoulder, catching Eimarille’s eye, and smiled thinly. “The rulers of the House of Kimathi are not as patient as you are, my dear.”
Eimarille reached for the teacup Kote set in front of her on the desk, bringing it to her lips. The smell of mint reached her nose, and she breathed it in carefully. The nausea really only affected her in the early mornings, but she still chose to drink the tea slowly.
She licked her lips after a sip and set it aside. “We need more debt slaves. The banking laws I requested be passed for my wedding present don’t go far enough, but we can build on them. They’ll provide us more debt slaves, with no one the wiser, once they are implemented. The banks will run an audit on all loans and collect on the collaterals.”
“That will take time and political capital you can ill afford to throw away if the Ashion parliament pushes back as they have been. Bernard’s decree that Amari is to be yours has rattled them. You’ll ultimately need the king’s backing to get what we need here. The Ashion parliament will be a harder nut to crack,” Kote warned.
“I need no backing if I am queen.”
Innes’ mouth quirked upward at one corner, eyes half-lidded. “You’ll wear that crown soon enough.”
Eimarille set the teacup on the desk and stood, meeting the star god on level ground. He was taller than her, even in the heeled shoes she wore, but he’d taught her how not to give any ground but that which she was willing to lose for the greater good of her desires.
“I’m pregnant. I’ll have an heir soon, and the king won’t have need of me anymore. Your ‘soon enough’ should be now.”
She’d been Bernard’s ward not out of kindness, but simple political greed. Eimarille had always known she’d marry Wesley for the sole fact she could provide a child with Rourke blood to the Iverson bloodline, a child who could be raised from birth under their control, rather than gifted to them at ten years old.
Eimarille would rather cut her own throat than allow them access to the child growing in her womb.
Terilyn stood in a soft rustle of fabric, resting a hand gently between Eimarille’s shoulder blades. Her touch was a reminder of support, a Blade sharp enough to protect, and Eimarille leaned into it.
Innes came to stand before Eimarille. He framed her face with both hands, looking down at her, before he brushed a gentle kiss against her brow.
“My dear child, the world will always have need of you. Why else would I have taken you out of Ashion, if not for the future you could build? The king will know his place when the time comes, and you will put him there. You have my word,” Innes said.
Eimarille nodded, resisting the urge to swallow, because that was a show of nerves she’d trained herself out of performing. “Then let us discuss how to get these banking laws passed by the Ashion parliament. My preference would be a distraction big enough to turn their attention away from whatever committee is tasked with reviewing the law.” Eimarille tilted her head to the side, dislodging Innes’ hands. “Perhaps an attempt at expanding a portion of the eastern border by way of settlements? I know we decided against that before, but perhaps it’s time we reassess.”
Before Innes could give her his thoughts on that tactic, a rapid knock came from the office door. Kote frowned and strode over to answer it.
“Yes?” he demanded as he opened it partway.
Innes had stepped back, out of sight, but Eimarille was in the perfect position to see the aide in uniform salute the high general.
“Sir. A high-priority telegram came through to the Defense Council today. I was instructed to bring it to you,” the aide said.
If the aide had driven all the way across the city to bring it to Kote’s attention, it meant whatever news the telegram bore, it was too hot to risk sending it again over the wire. Kote took the offered slip of paper with a nod and closed the door. He turned around and unfolded it, staring down at whatever was written there.
“What is the news?” Eimarille asked.
Kote offered the telegram in silence. “The Imperial crown princess of Solaria has died in childbirth.”
Eimarille took the telegram and studied the blocky text. The message was short and to the point, and no doubt the news had already reached the Daijal court if the Defense Council had the information as well. When Solaria mourned, it mourned loudly, sometimes viciously.
She looked up from the message to meet Innes’ gaze. “Princess Consort Nicca was not of the House of Sa’Liandel. She belonged to the House of Kimathi before marrying the Imperial crown prince.”
The Twilight Star had the fingers of one hand tucked beneath the neckline of his waistcoat, a faint smile twitching at his mouth. “She did.”
Eimarille folded the telegram in half and handed it back to Kote, who promptly tossed it into the fireplace. “Is this your punishment, then? For their interference in the poison fields?”
Innes’ smile got wider, a pleased look filling his eyes at what she gathered was her correct guess. “They won’t see my hand in this, only what they wish to.”
It was not a true admission, but Eimarille knew the truth in his words. She wondered if he would ever cast her aside so thoroughly, the way he had done with the other princess. It was always a risk, to be blessed so by a star god, but Eimarille was ever pragmatic when it came to prayer. Like with banks, you had to give up something to gain what you desired.
