Honovi pressed his hand to the small of Blaine’s back, urging him inside. Blaine went where directed, knowing this was a conversation they shouldn’t have in public. He knew Nathaniel had been added to the passenger manifest because Ksenia, the wardens’ master alchemist, wanted to check up on him. He hadn’t known Caris had revealed secret information to the other man. “You only mentioned that you wanted to speak to Soren. What is it, exactly, you’re planning, and does Meleri know?”
Caris raised her chin. “The duchess knows, but I didn’t seek out her permission. Eimarille and I are not the only Rourkes. If something were to happen to me, Ashion needs someone else to rally behind. Alasandair could be that person.”
“He doesn’t go by Alasandair,” Blaine said slowly.
Soren had been insistent that he wasn’t the long-thought-dead Ashion prince they seemed to think he was. He’d adamantly denied being a Rourke, despite the clear resemblance he had to Caris. Blaine had been driven near speechless the first time he’d laid eyes on Soren in that meeting room in Glencoe last year. He’d known of Eimarille and Caris surviving the Inferno, had kept Caris’ life a secret while he’d lived his own until his road made its way back to hers. Alasandair—Soren—had never factored into the fight for the starfire throne and the right to rule Ashion.
He knew Queen Ophelia had three children, but Alasandair’s death during the Inferno had been a fact for so long Blaine hadn’t wanted to believe what his eyes were telling him. None of them knew anything about Soren except that he was a warden, made through alchemy to be able to survive the poison fields and handle revenants. Wardens were barred from interfering with a country’s politics outside delivering border reports.
Caris had grown up a noble, learning her bloodline’s business before going to university to become an engineer and how to be a cog and rule under Meleri’s guidance. She was still learning the dance of politics but was a far cry better at it now than she’d been even last summer. Blaine couldn’t say the same for Soren, if the warden would even believe the truth Caris spoke.
An hour or so later saw them anchored at the Warden’s Island and trekking through the fort’s heavily guarded gate. Construction was ongoing, but the scars from the attack last summer still dotted the interior. Empty spaces where buildings once stood interrupted the skyline, and rubble, while piled in designated areas, had yet to be removed. More disheartening than the structures was the small number of wardens and tithes they passed.
While Blaine knew that many of the wardens had survived the attack by virtue of being in the poison fields and guarding borders, they’d lost so many tithes that it would set back Maricol’s safety by at least a generation.
He couldn’t help the way he reached for his left elbow and the metal joint of the mechanical prosthetic. He curled his fingers around the shape of it beneath the sleeve of his flight jacket, a sense of disquiet settling over him as they walked. He hadn’t been back to the Warden’s Island since his capture, and he thought it wouldn’t bother him. Judging by the knots in his stomach, he’d been wrong.
Honovi caught his eye as they walked behind the others and the warden who was their guide. He draped his arm around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him close. “All right?”
He spoke in E’ridian, and Blaine was grateful to hide behind their language. “I will be. It’s jarring to be back.”
Honovi squeezed his shoulder, and Blaine leaned into the comfort his husband provided. “I won’t leave your side this time.”
Blaine reached up and touched the chain that held the clarion crystal shard hanging from his throat beneath his marriage torc. Honovi’s promise was one Blaine would never take for granted. They’d been separated enough the past few years; he rather hoped their roads would not break apart anytime soon.
The administration building the warden led them to was smaller than the old one he remembered, but that one had been bombed during the attack. Still, it was just as busy inside as he remembered, with wardens surrounded by folios as they worked through border reports. No one looked up at their arrival, busy with their tasks and diligent in completing them. Delani’s office was smaller and more cramped than her old one, but she remained a force to be reckoned with, her one good eye studying them as they entered.
“One hopes your time here won’t be as exciting as your last visit,” Delani said by way of greeting.
Blaine winced, and Honovi’s arm tightened briefly around his shoulders before falling away. “We won’t be staying very long.”
“We’ll be staying as long as it takes to convince one of yours to aid us,” Caris said evenly. Blaine bit back a sigh at that declaration. Caris’ itinerary was known by less than a dozen people, but her absence would be felt after more than a couple of days. Blaine hoped this trip would wrap up quickly, but that depended on how the wardens handled the request.
Delani’s gaze slid to Caris, attention sharp in the way of a hunter. “We wardens have never shirked our duties.”
“It’s not your duty I’m talking about but mine and my desire to share it.”
Delani leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking with the motion. “Ah. You’re here for Soren. I thought you’d come to ask for more wardens to handle the dead in your eastern province.”
“I’m here for Alasandair, yes.”
“I have no warden by that name.”
Caris frowned but wasn’t deterred. “You know him as Soren, then. No matter what name he goes by, I am here for my brother.”
“I know who you are here for, but he has stated to me he is not who you believe him to be. As our records were destroyed in the attack, I am unable to verify which country sent him as a tithe. You say he is a Rourke, but Soren insists he is a warden, and you have no witness to prove your declaration unless Blaine speaks for him as well as you.”
Delani’s formidable attention landed on him, and Blaine stepped forward. “I do not, but surely any warden who could cast starfire would be repudiated based on the Poison Accords.”
“Soren claims to not have that power.”
“And do you believe him?”
Delani’s silence was a clear enough answer, though Blaine didn’t press her to speak it. He knew what it would mean if it became known that the wardens had allowed someone who could cast starfire into their ranks. Whatever wardens’ governor had signed off on such acceptance would have ruined their vaunted neutrality, and it was that which kept the tithes flowing.
“I believe we’re all at a crossroads,” Delani finally said as she stood. “But my duty is to the borders of Maricol, not your attempts to secure power. Your birthright doesn’t interest me. It is the fallout of this war that does.”
“If Soren could help us end this war, wouldn’t you want that?” Caris asked.
