The borrowed estate that passed as the Auclair bloodline’s home in Cosian was a far cry from the one in Amari where Honovi had once been received. Still, the servants who greeted him were just as professional, and the duchess was her same regal self when he was escorted into the parlor with its violet-colored wallpaper, glass display shelves of porcelain figurines, and enough flowers in vases to make him want to sneeze.
Meleri rose to her feet at his arrival, giving Honovi a quick and shallow curtsy as due his social station of ajarlto Clan Storm. In the grand hierarchy of manners, he outranked her, but her own political reach was nothing to discount.
“It is good to see you again,jarlHonovi,” Meleri said.
“Duchess Auclair,” Honovi replied. “Thank you for having me.”
Meleri gestured at the only other seat at the small round table. The wooden chair was nicely cushioned, the fabric a pale blue that went well with the violet saturating the room. The spread on the table looked delicious, and the tea the servant poured for him after he sat was the green he preferred over the floral one Meleri favored.
The servant set the teapot down on its silver tray before sketching a bow and leaving the parlor, closing the door behind them for privacy. Meleri’s gaze never wavered from Honovi’s. “Is Blaine with Caris today?”
They’d all met for a many-course dinner last night at the dining room here in the estate, where nothing of the war was discussed. Nathaniel had sat by Caris for the entire meal, and his presence alone had required careful conversation.
“They’re still working on his mechanical prosthetic, and she wanted to introduce him to a warden she’s been partnering with in her company’s laboratory.”
“Ah, Enmei. A pragmatic fellow.”
“How many wardens do you have in the city?”
“They come and go, but there are at least two dozen who have resided here on a continuous basis since last year. A few of those have been in the thick of command meetings. My understanding is the fort on the Warden’s Island is still undergoing cleanup and construction. Creating alchemy-based weapons here takes the heat off the island.”
The wardens had lost many tithes and those wardens with specialized knowledge during the attack on the island, to say nothing of the vast historical records they’d meticulously kept since the Poison Accords were signed. The attack by Daijal had seen every warden retreat out of that country as well as Urova, leaving the revenants for the living to handle on their own.
E’ridia’s diplomats still had a presence in Urova out of political necessity, even if they’d been recalled from Daijal. Honovi knew smaller towns and even some cities in Urova were concerned about the uptick in revenants clawing at their walls. But when one allied themselves with an aggressor, they couldn’t be surprised at the fallout.
Revenants were impossible to control. Daijal could send bodies through their death-defying machines to create revenants, but unlike withrionetkas, the walking dead took orders from no one.
“The wardens are still assisting the war effort?” Honovi asked.
Meleri reached for one of the tiny squares of sweet cake on the tray with a pair of silver tongs, placing it on her ceramic plate. The savory dishes outnumbered the sweet ones due to a sugar shortage. “They have pledged their support against Daijal.”
It was telling that she didn’t say it was for the Ashion cause. “For how long?”
“The wardens’ governor promised until the war was over.”
“And if Daijal wins?”
Meleri took a dainty sip of her tea, gaze never leaving Honovi’s face. “You and your people could be the deciding factor in that never happening.”
“I know Daijal won’t stop at Ashion’s borders. My father believes the same as well, especially after therionetkainfiltration of our government. But theComhairle nan Cinnidheanbelieves closing the border will keep us safe.”
“That’s a death sentence with the way Eimarille is fighting. Even the Eastern Spine won’t protect you.”
“Getting troops across it isn’t feasible. There’s only a handful of railroads that traverse it.”
“One can go above or around.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment of that before reaching for one of the small, neatly cut sandwiches on the tiered tray between them. “E’ridia survived your civil war in the past.”
Meleri set her teacup down. “This isn’t a civil war.”
Which was true. In no other war in Maricol’s history had someone attacked the Warden’s Island. That alone had changed the fundamental details of the fight happening within Ashion’s borders. But it wasn’t enough for E’ridia or Solaria to lend their military might to the fight. “I’ve said as much to my father.”
“And has that swayed him?”
“If it had, I would have arrived with more airships than just the one.”
Meleri sighed tiredly, looking every year her age in that moment. “Our capital is under occupation, and the starfire throne is inaccessible. If Caris put out the North Star’s decree, if she was seen as the rightful queen, would your people find sympathy with our plight and give us aid?”
