Joelle was well used to living up to a lie, and it was easy enough to smile a greeting at those seated around her. She knew their faces and their Houses, most of them loyal to her own through shared goals, bribery, or debts. Vesper’s House governed thevasilyetsurrounding Seaville on the east coast, in the hill country. That trade city was almost as integral as Bellingham when it came to contact with another country.
“How fares your father?” Joelle asked Vesper as a servant poured her a glass of cold red wine, fruit floating at the top.
Vesper passed her a small dish of sweets, the layered, honeyed pieces sticky-looking. Joelle placed two onto her plate. “He’s in Seaville, overseeing the summer season.”
“Are you here with your mother?”
Vesper’s smile was slight but proud. “No,vezir. I am the voice of my House here in Calhames.”
Which meant she’d rightly held the pinnacle of social status in those present in the courtyard until Joelle arrived. That she deftly stepped aside without a fight spoke well of her training—or perhaps she remembered what her House owed Joelle’s.
“It has been years since you’ve last graced Calhames with your presence,”vezirSuresh Gevorgyan, of the House of Gevorgyan, said from the side of the round table. “What changed your mind?”
His hair was going gray at the temples, brown curls trimmed neatly in deference to the humid climate he came from. The House of Gevorgyan was a major House in what once had been the House of Laxsom’svasilyet. When that House had fallen, thevasilyethad been cut up administratively and given over to other Houses, both major and minor, to govern over. Joelle knew his area encompassed a good chunk of the swampy wetland in the southeast before it hit the edge of the Wastelands.
The wardens could only cleanse the land against the climate so much. Rixham had been a city that stood against the encroachment of revenants in the shape of humans or wild beasts, the dead poisoned by spores in the swamps or the red desert dunes of the Wastelands. The smaller towns didn’t have the capacity a city did to fight back against a horde of revenants. Wardens did what they could, but the southern border had always been in flux.
The House of Gevorgyan had little love for the House that sat upon the Imperial throne. No debts were owed by that House to hers, but loyalty could perhaps be found in a shared goal.
What Suresh’s House lacked in livable land was more than made up for by the number of magicians born into their bloodline. Several members of his House could even cast starfire, though not to the depth of the current emperor. It spoke well of the management of their ancestry, of keeping poison at bay through numerous generations. Any marriage between his House and another would result in children who could have the capability of casting starfire or, at the very least, passing it on to the next generation.
“I could stand no longer the road our country is being led down,” Joelle said, affecting a concerned frown. “Since the emperor refuses my blood right to see my great-granddaughter in my ownvasilyet, I thought it only prudent to finally demand a visit with her. Raiah deserves to know her mother’s House.”
A soft murmur of agreement rose from the table, with more than a few nodding in support. Joelle took another sip of her wine, ignoring the faint ache in her finger joints as she gripped the glass.
“The broadsheets have only reported about an assassin, but I heard the attack on the emperor a few days ago was perpetuated by someone within thepraetorialegionnaires,” a young man to her left said.
“If thepraetorialegionnaires are against the emperor, that is a statement on the status of the throne we should not ignore,” another woman said.
Vesper kept her attention on Joelle. “What say you,vezir?”
Joelle slipped through the opening the way a blade slipped between ribs. “Empress Zakariya ruled with a ruthlessness her son lacks and which Solaria is in need of. It’s a pity the assassins failed.”
Everyone at her table relaxed minutely when it became clear that Joelle was of the same mindset they were—that Emperor Vanya did not deserve the Imperial throne.
“The House of Sa’Liandel has ruled for so long, I think most people have forgotten what other Houses can do if they sat upon the Imperial throne.”
Vesper’s words brought a faint smile to Joelle’s mouth as everyone at the table nodded in agreement, no artifice that she could see in their faces. That didn’t mean much, but Joelle knew the history of the Houses who broke bread with her at the moment. None held easy alliance—if they had any—with the House of Sa’Liandel.
“Empress Zakariya never allowed a Conclave of Houses to form during her reign. She was too deft at working the back channels and holding on to debts for any House to call one to order. Her son lacks such skill and promises owed.” Joelle met the gaze of every person seated around her. “I think it’s past time we called for one.”
Vesper said nothing to that statement, merely lifted her wineglass in a toast of agreement that was mimicked by everyone else at the table. Joelle was the last to lift her wineglass, acknowledging their support for the secret road she planned to lead them down.
Four
CARIS
The first day of Ninth Month saw the rise of the Eclipse Star over the Dusk Star, with the Leviathan constellation dominating the night sky. Miss Caris Dhemlan, heir to her bloodline’s Six Point Mechanics Company and a landless barony title, watched the constellations fade amidst the onslaught of dawn.
The sun rising in the east would bring with it the heat of summer, but all Caris felt was cold as the E’ridian airship flew swiftly through the sky. Her ears popped as they began to descend, the majority of the crew having been up for well over an hour already on their captain’s orders.
Caris leaned her elbows against the railing, the fur-lined leather flight jacket she wore borrowed from someone on the airship’s crew. The plaid curving over the shoulders indicated ownership by someone associated with Clan Storm. She didn’t know who had offered it up, only that Blaine had placed it around her shoulders within minutes of her arrival on the airship. That had been two days ago, and no one had yet asked for it back.
The open front deck of the airship was cast in shadow from the balloon above. The chill in the air made her breath fog, and the wind from their passage made her eyes water without goggles to protect them. Caris preferred to blame outside factors for the tears that left her lashes spiked, not quite done grieving over what she’d been forced to leave behind.
She lifted a hand to touch the lump hidden beneath her work blouse that was the signet ring Nathaniel Clementine had given her in the quiet of her lab back in Amari.
After a moment, she drew the chain free, staring at the gold ring resting in her palm, watching the way sunlight glinted off the flat top of it. His family’s Clementine Trading Company’s crest was etched into it the way a bloodline’s might be. He wasn’t noble in blood, only deed, and Caris missed having him by her side.
