“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what everyone else will think of you and him and this history spun from the aether you wish to make a truth. It complicates everything, and my focus must be on the borders, not your crown.”
“Will you let Caris speak to him?” Blaine asked.
Delani gestured at the door. “Soren’s shift at the telegraph machines ends around sunset. I’ll send a runner to let him know you are here, but I won’t pull him from his duties. You can wait to have your conversation until tonight. Someone will show you to your rooms.”
It was a clear dismissal, one that saw Nathaniel escorting a frustrated Caris out of the office. Lore followed after them, and Blaine would have gone with them if Delani hadn’t said, “I’d ask you to stay a moment, Blaine.”
Honovi pointedly closed the door and put his back to it, crossing his arms over his chest in a clear indication of his refusal to leave. If Delani had an issue with his presence, she didn’t show it. She stepped around her desk and approached the small wet bar tucked between a bookcase and filing cabinet. She pulled the stopper out of a decanter and poured herself a small glass that smelled likeika, Urova’s favored drink.
“How is your arm?” Delani asked.
Blaine clenched his metal fingers into a fist, the click of gears loud in the room. “I made a new one.”
Delani tossed back theikain a quick swallow. “I apologized to your husband last year for the betrayal of one of mine against you. I’ll say it again to you. I am sorry for the harm come to you at the hands of a warden.”
Raziel hadn’t survived her betrayal. Honovi had told him months after his return to Glencoe, when he could bear to think about what had happened on the Warden’s Island, that her mind had been stripped of memories by the wardens before she boarded an airship back to E’ridia. She’d been tried and found guilty based on Honovi’s testimony and Blaine’s medical records. The E’ridian court had made it clear Raziel had acted on her own, that the wardens hadn’t condoned her betrayal and knew nothing of it.
Blaine would be lying if he said he didn’t have reservations about being alone with a warden these days.
“Just because wardens wear the same field uniform doesn’t mean your people share the guilt of a traitor. Raziel made her choice. I’m just lucky I survived it and only lost part of my arm,” Blaine said.
“Still, it reflects badly on us wardens, especially because of the origins ofrionetkas.”
“That isn’t common knowledge.”
“For now. But secrets aren’t staying kept these days, and I’m doubtful we’ll escape the blame there for long.”
It didn’t help they no longer had any records to prove they’d thought the warden in question had died in the poison fields of Daijal. Neither did they have records of the tithes who’d come to them for centuries or the border history of the poison fields. So much knowledge had been lost last summer, harming everyone.
Delani stepped in front of her desk and leaned against it, arms crossed over her chest. She studied him for a moment before speaking. “I know you can stand witness for Caris. If it came down to it, could you do the same for Soren?”
Blaine shook his head. “I carried her out of Amari during the Inferno, and my memories speak to that. I never knew where the prince went. A magician skilled in mind magic could easily find if that were a lie.”
There were those in Ashion who refused to believe he was a Westergard, even with his ring. His name had been struck from the nobility genealogies, after all, and he’d not tried to undo it. So far, the people who mattered believed him, but Blaine was aware of how quickly that could change.
“Then that complicates things.”
“There aren’t any records to suggest one way or the other what Soren is, save the alchemy that lets wardens survive poison that would otherwise kill anyone else. Soren is what you made him to be, and there’s no changing that, even if he changes his name,” Honovi said.
Delani’s bland expression never faltered. In another life, she would have made a formidable political opponent. “And wardens aren’t meant to be of royal blood. We have kept to the parameters of the Poison Accords through the Ages. I won’t see it break on my watch.”
“We’re in the Age of Progress. Perhaps it is time for change,” Blaine said slowly.
“No.” Delani’s tone was all steel, refusing to budge. “I will not alter what was agreed to for the sake of saving a government that may crumble before the year is up.”
“And if Eimarille takes the entire continent? What then? She’s already proven she doesn’t care for the duties you wardens uphold. Your livelihood is at stake as much as ours, especially after you pulled wardens out of Daijal.”
Delani grimaced. “I’m not willing for countries to think they can control wardens by threatening to murder us all.”
“What position do you think you wardens would be in if Eimarille is the only one ruling at the end of this fight?” Honovi asked.
“It would be better if you could control the narrative,” Blaine added.
“Nothing good comes of lies, and that is what I would have to work with.” Delani shook her head and pushed away from the desk. “I’ll speak with Soren after he talks to your queen.”
Blaine inclined his head and was escorted out of the office by Honovi. Neither of them spoke until they were outside the building, finding Caris, Nathaniel, and Lore chatting with a familiar warden. Caris gave them a curious look but didn’t ask any questions on why they were delayed. Yufei, on the other hand, offered his hand in greeting.
“Glad to see you are well,” the warden said, nodding at Blaine’s left arm.
