“Not all Houses have taken sides,” Amir demurred.
“But enough that it worries you.”
Amir gestured vaguely at nothing, careful to keep his expression devoid of worry. “It is only you and Lady Taisiya, and your heir is not here.”
Vanya was well aware of the weak position his House appeared to be in. It was why he hadn’t summoned any of his extended family to Calhames—he couldn’t trust they’d follow the road he needed them to. Vanya swallowed his wine, the sweetness turning sour in the back of his throat at the idea of Joelle winning this game of words. “We’ve more work to do.”
Amir looked at him askance. “Of course.”
They parted ways, with Vanya taking a path to a different tent full of different Houses, seeking to sway their opinions aboutrionetkasand a death-defying machine in the face of Joelle’s accusations of his betrayal to Solaria. Some, he knew, had already made up their minds, their cool politeness evidence enough of their alliance with the House of Kimathi. Vanya still attempted to sway them, even if there was no swaying Joelle from her goal—he could only try to outmaneuver her.
Vanya remained at a disadvantage, for Joelle had spent weeks already cultivating whispers and rumors to turn the Houses against him. If the Conclave ended with Vanya out of favor, then he would not hold the Imperial throne for long.
That would leave Raiah in Joelle’s hands, a scenario Vanya never wanted to happen. Taisiya would not be strong enough to keep Raiah safe, alone as she had been on the coast for years, despite her rank and the starfire she could call from the aether. If Vanya were to keep Raiah from Joelle, then he needed to follow in his mother’s footsteps and refuse to bend.
Vanya eventually circled around to her, crossing Joelle’s path in one of the center gardens, where the flowering hedges were low and the pond teemed with brightly scaled fish beneath the shade of small trees. The midmorning heat was growing when he turned from one group of guests and came face-to-face with Joelle, thevezirof the House of Kimathi having found her way to her son’s side.
Vesper, Vanya noted, did not shadow them this time. She was still doing their bidding, he knew. The House of Aetos was lost to him, having already chosen their side in this Conclave. It would be difficult to undo the whisper campaign Joelle and her allies had started against him if she held many of the major Houses.
“I understand you are accusing my House of untruths,” Joelle said, her voice carrying to the ears of the nearby guests.
“My accusation has not changed,” Vanya said evenly.
“And yet, they remain lies on your tongue.”
“You protest much for one who has allowed such horrors into yourvasilyet.”
Joelle shook her head, the jeweled drop earrings she wore swaying with the motion. “I would never condone such cruelty, but your House has a history of doing so.”
Vanya would have responded, except the quiet that had surrounded them was broken by the rising voices of his guests, their murmurs taking on an excited tone. Beneath it came the frantic footsteps of someone running. Joelle’s eyes widened, mouth parting slightly in surprise, and Vanya found himself turning, hope a tight knot in his chest.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Alida called out, sounding breathless as she hurried down the path to him.
Striding behind her, some distance back, were the only two people Vanya wanted to see.
He’d known Amir’s wife had put Soren and Raiah on an airship. He’d known, but he hadn’t let himself believe they would arrive, not after everything Soren had said they’d gone through while traveling. But they were here now, and Raiah’s voice made him take a step forward, forgetting about the threat at his back.
“Papa!” Raiah shrieked.
She wasn’t dressed like a princess—her outfit was typical for a young boy not of any House, and her hair was in need of re-braiding—but he’d know her anywhere. Soren swung Raiah off his hip with practiced ease, setting her on her own two feet between one step and the next. He let her go, and she was off like a bullet, racing toward Vanya as fast as her little legs would carry her, crying for him all the while.
Vanya met her halfway, swinging her up into his arms to hold her close. Her little arms wrapped tight around his neck as she clutched at him with a sob, too overwhelmed to lift her head where she’d buried it against his shoulder. “Papa.”
He curved his hand over the shape of her skull, drawing in a ragged breath as he held her tight. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
“Papa, Imissedyou.”
“And I you. I’m so very glad you’re home.”
Vanya watched Soren approach, noticing the dark circles under the warden’s eyes that spoke of little sleep since leaving Oeiras. He wore his field leathers, the poison short sword for close-quarters combat protruding over one shoulder. The reserved expression on his face never wavered, but the relief in his gray eyes was all Vanya wanted to see—some bit of recognition that Soren was glad to be back.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Soren said as he came to a stop before Vanya. He didn’t bow—wardens never bowed to heads of state—but he did incline his head a little in acknowledgment for their audience.
They were arm’s length apart, and it felt like a chasm to Vanya in that moment. He had Raiah in his arms, and all he wanted was to pull Soren close, but he couldn’t. Rumors already ran rampant about them amongst the Houses. Vanya would typically brush it all aside and do as he liked, but the Conclave complicated everything. Houses already thought he gave too much leeway, too much support, to the wardens. Dragging Soren close for a kiss would only make things worse. He had his House, and his heir, to think of, and that meant sticking to the roles they were born to in the face of prying eyes.
Vanya cleared his throat, staring at Soren. “How was the flight?”
“Uneventful. The crew was examined for vivisection scars before being allowed onto the airship, and Raiah never left my side.” Soren nodded at Raiah. “She missed you.”
