An arm reached out to set a teacup and saucer on her desk. She looked up and nodded her thanks at the guest who had provided her tea. “You don’t worship her.”
“No, but the Dawn Star’s favor would have aided our plans.”
“She could never favor your House. You know why.”
Joelle’s silence was a furious sort that lasted half a minute. “The Conclave is scheduled to last another two weeks. That time is meaningless now. What Houses I have convinced to my side will flee to the emperor’s.”
“Then you must provide a different road to them. That is why you reached out, is it not? The House of Sa’Liandel has held the Imperial throne for too long, I remember you saying. Don’t tell me you’ll give up on it now.”
“I haven’t,” Joelle ground out.
“My contingency will see us through this. You will remain in Calhames until the package is delivered to you. For all the Dawn Star’s supposed favor, it can’t compete with the dead.”
“And when can I expect this package?”
“I’m sending it by way of airship tomorrow.”
“If I do not get the Imperial throne—”
“I know what youwant,vezirJoelle. But it is not what I need at this moment, and my needsmustcome first if we are to do right by your House.” Eimarille gentled her voice, coaxing the conversation to a more pleasant tone. “I told you when we agreed to work together that I would help you gain the Imperial throne. We need the Houses to look away from you and the border we share. I will ensure that happens.”
“I insist you do sobeforethe Conclave officially ends.”
The line hummed from an ended call, and Eimarille set the receiver into the telephone cradle. She leaned back in her office chair and turned her head to catch Innes’ eye. “Such atrocious manners. I do regret to inform you that your sister has given her favor to a House, my lord.”
Innes crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against her wide wooden desk. He wore a rather fashionable day jacket in lilac, with trousers to match. Dark blue embroidery at the cuffs and collars pricked with gold were offset by the cravat tied around his throat. The gloves he wore were cream-colored to match the waistcoat he wore, his button-down shirt a bright white. He could have passed for any courtier—and did—but no one would ever see the truth of him unless he allowed it.
“How interesting,” Innes mused.
The Twilight Star appeared unconcerned with the news, though Eimarille knew from considerable experience that he would never truly reveal how he felt at any given moment. He was inscrutable when it came to the truth of his emotions—if he even had any.
“Interesting is one way to look at it. Why would the Dawn Star show favor to the House of Sa’Liandel after decades of silence?”
“She’d favor any House sitting on the Imperial throne at a time like this.”
“Not Joelle’s.”
Innes’ lips curved in a smile that never reached his eyes. “Her prayers belong to me.”
“I do hope you’ll answer them appropriately when it’s time.”
Innes laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of Eimarille’s head. The gesture was almost paternal, though she knew he’d never see her in the way of a child, only a pawn. “Have no fear. Her road is set.”
“I was going to wait to send the strike force, but now I think it’s best I dispatch them tomorrow for the east after I send Terilyn south.” She pursed her lips, dropping her gaze to the folios on her desk that held updates from the military brass on their ongoing annexation of Ashion provinces. “I’ll need to speak with Kote first.”
“You have a meeting,” Innes reminded her just as a knock sounded on the door to her private office. “Ah, right on time.”
The door was pushed open by Terilyn, the Blade garbed in brown tailored trousers, a russet-colored corset belt, and a snow-white blouse embroidered at the sleeves and collar with delicate lace. Her hair was pinned up, the jeweled stiletto securing the updo a gift from Eimarille two years ago. Terilyn inclined her head, sweeping an arm out behind her as she turned. “Your next appointment, Your Royal Majesty.”
The Urovan ambassador entered, clicking his booted heels together before bowing deeply to Eimarille. The heavy brocade overcoat he wore was perhaps too warm for the summer weather, but the embroidery and gold embellishments on it provided a visual of his rank that Ambassador Maksim had always been loath to part with.
“Your Royal Majesty,” Maksim said in greeting.
Eimarille smiled sweetly at the man. He was two decades older than her own thirty years, but the years had been kind to him, or perhaps it was his wealth. He’d been born the third son into a high-ranking noble bloodline in Matriskav and hadn’t been satisfied with his lot in life until he’d fallen into politics. From there, he’d earned the trust of Urova’s Isar, enough so that he’d made a name for himself in foreign courts.
Maksim had come to the Daijal court long before her marriage. Eimarille had spent many an afternoon over the years discussing politics with the man, Terilyn ever by her side. Eimarille had a soft spot for Maricol’s most northern country. Her Blade had come from there, and she would spare its people if she could. She’d promised Terilyn that, and Maksim had come around to her way of thinking after an encounter with the Midnight Star.
Xaxis could be persuasive—or he could simply take your mind. Despite his reluctance to build a war against his siblings, the Midnight Star had taught theKlovodhow to makerionetkas.
