“The wardens will have a voice during the Conclave tomorrow. You will speak for them,” Taisiya said.
Soren could do nothing but nod in the face of that order. He’d been the one to uncover Alida’s treachery, after all, been the one to pull proof of Daijal interference from the throat of a Blade. “I’ll meet you at the Senate tomorrow morning.”
Taisiya patted him on the shoulder before leaving the pew, a squad ofpraetorialegionnaires swooping in to escort her out of the sanctuary. Soren got to his feet with a sigh, then approached the entrance to the crypt.
It was high time the dead were burned.
Four
VANYA
When Vanya alighted from the motor carriage, his attention was unerringly drawn to the figure waiting for them by the entrance to the Senate building. He tugged at the cuffs of his black robes, fingers catching on the delicate gold embroidery there.
“What is he doing here?” Vanya asked Taisiya in a low voice.
“You cannot hope to give your side of the events without the warden who uncovered your majordomo’s betrayal and Joelle’s treachery,” came Taisiya’s light and unaffected answer. “Come now, child. You’ve had your sulk. Rule as you should and do not linger.”
Hisvalidelet thepraetorialegionnaires escort her up the stairs to where Soren waited in front of the Senate entrance. Even from the distance that separated them, Vanya could feel Soren’s gaze on him like a heavy weight. He had not seen Soren since he’d walked away from the warden with Raiah in his arms, passing through the ashes of a home he’d destroyed. He knew Soren had returned to the palace grounds every day since, working to handle the dead left behind in the crypt and coordinate the clean-up.
Soren had not come to the House of Sa’Liandel’s estate, and Vanya hadn’t asked him to.
Alida’s betrayal was one thing, Soren’s quite another. To know the warden who he cared for—who he wanted above all others—could cast starfire to a degree only found in royalty had Vanya rethinking everything he thought he knew of the warden. Everything he wanted to say was knotted up in his chest, a ball of iron where his heart beat, choking him with bitterness.
Vanya set aside the anger, swallowed the taste of fury on his tongue, and drew in a breath that smelled of summer and the incense used to mourn. Black banners hung from the Senate building’s roof, prayers painted in gold over the fabric. Names, he knew, of those who’d been lost—either to revenants or starfire—were written out like prayers.
Squaring his shoulders, new crown heavy on his brow, Vanya climbed the steps to the Senate building, finding Taisiya and Soren waiting for him in the marble hallway inside. Soren wore his field uniform, the leathers clean, looking every inch a warden when he shouldn’t be. He’d found a new gun belt and pistols, the hilt of his poison short sword protruding over one shoulder.
Vanya searched Soren’s face, looking into gray eyes that had been so familiar once, and all he could think, in the quiet of his mind, waswho are you?
But he kept his mouth closed, sweeping past the pair to lead the way to the Senate chambers. Taisiya left them at the stairs which led to the mezzanine, taking Soren’s elbow to traverse the stairs. Vanya let them go and allowed the Senate chamberlain to announce him.
“His Imperial Majesty Vanya Sa’Liandel, of the House of Sa’Liandel.”
Vanya walked through the doors amidst a burst of noise. The desks were full when they arrived, while the mezzanine above where the Houses sat was not. Seats were empty up there, bodies missing, and every last person wore black robes in mourning.
Of the Houses present, only the House of Kimathi had sent no one to bear witness to the end of the Conclave. Vanya rather thought Joelle had hoped he would die at the last gathering, but he hadn’t. He was here, and she was not, and he would see her pay for all of their losses.
Vanya swept toward the only Imperial throne left in Calhames, taking his place on the grand, golden seat of power amidst the murmur of voices. He looked around the chambers, watching as senators took their seats and those in the mezzanine craned their heads to look at him. Quiet descended, a hush rarely heard in the walls that held the echoes of legislative arguments in every corner.
“We mourn the Houses,” Vanya said into that quiet. “The ones who lost family through what transpired at the gathering and those through deceit from being turned intorionetkas. We mourn for the old ways we worshipped, as decreed by the Dawn Star, but that time has passed.”
“The old ways put the capitol at risk,” a senator cried out. “The Houses may play their games, but not at the risk of our city.”
“I burned that risk to the ground. I burned our history to ash. But a palace is merely walls. They house us, keep us safe, like the city walls that encircle us. But when we outgrow them, when the city needs more room to grow, we build another wall. Make no mistake, wewillrebuild the Imperial palace. While we can’t replace the lives lost there, those responsible for the horror of that night shall not be left to their freedom.”
A rustle of clothing had his gaze snapping to the mezzanine, where a woman stood, the crest before their area that of a minor House. “The dead were never meant to be buried. What say the wardens to that?”
Heads turned, everyone’s attention directed to where Soren sat in the mezzanine behind the throne, out of sight, in the House of Sa’Liandel’s seats. The rising murmur of the crowd abruptly cut off as Soren’s voice rang through the air.
“The wardens’ governor is aware of what the major Houses have done with their dead at the behest of a star god. The Poison Accords were broken. That is indisputable. There will be sanctions levied against Solaria because of it. Those sanctions were to be stayed, but I do not know how long that stay will last. The wardens are in need of tithes,” Soren said in near-perfect Solarian.
Vanya could see the anger on people’s faces, the furious desire for denial, and he cut the protests off before they could begin. “Solaria will pay with tithes as required.”
“Pay from your Houses!” a senator shouted, causing a loud cry of agreement to rise up from the senators.
“I will ask the wardens’ governor for mercy on behalf of the tithes owed. But our indiscretion is nothing to what Daijal will owe them,” Vanya cut in. “Last week, Daijal attacked the Warden’s Island on orders from their queen. Their actions destroyed the fort and murdered an untold number of tithes and wardens. Daijal would have you think they had nothing to do with it, but they did not kill everyone.”
Senators stood in shock, many of the Houses leaning in to whisper furiously with each other as the news hit. The anger didn’t leave anyone, but his words redirected to a different target.
