“It’s for the best,” I told him. “Now he and I both know where we stand.”
“I doubt that.” Solentine frowned. “I should’ve taken your feelings into consideration.”
“We’ve only been relatives for less than a month.”
“And we were doing so well, but now there is a coldness between us.”
I gave him a look.
“Maggie, I would rather have honesty than politeness.”
“Of course there is a coldness, you ass. You have a hundred people at your disposal, and you couldn’t send one to notify me. If only I had repeatedly asked your agents if there was any news about Everard—oh wait, I did.”
He blinked. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“No need. I no longer care. Besides, you arranged this audience on very short notice. That’s enough. I’m surprised you pulled it off.”
The frown got deeper. “I’m equally surprised. I don’t have influence over the Sun Margrave. Even my father would have to wait at least a few days for a meeting.”
“Maybe the stars aligned.”
I looked down at the floor of the carriage, where a large chest waited, filled with scrolls and papers. I didn’t care how we’d gotten the audience, as long as we got it.
The carriage stopped. Lute knocked on the front wall. We’d reached our destination.
Solentine picked up the wooden chest with all of our papers and stepped out. I climbed out after him without waiting for Will to help me out of the carriage. I didn’t have time for all the proprieties.
A large square building rose in front of us, a small fortress in the middle of the city, complete with two knights protecting the door. A woman stood between them, dressed in the black and purple colors of the Justice Chamber.
We approached the guards.
“Lord Dagarra and Lady Demarr,” Solentine said.
“You are expected. The lady only.”
“That’s fine.”
I took the chest from Solentine before he could open his mouth.
“Follow me,” the woman said.
We walked through a long, well-lit hallway into a large, three-story tower. Shelves ringed the walls, filled to the brim with books, odd objects, and scrolls and interrupted by arched windows letting in the afternoon light. A wide balcony with a blocky wooden rail traced the walls about fifteen feet up, offering access to the higher shelves.
In the middle of the tower stood a massive wooden desk, heavy and ornate. The man behind it was in his early sixties. He wore a black tabard with a stylized gold sun embroidered upon it. The symbol of his rank for, like the sun, he was meant to see all and purge the darkness. His hair, very curly and cropped short, had gone almost completely white. His face was long, made longer by a short graying beard in stark contrast to his deep brown skin. His cheekbones were prominent, his nose broad and flared. His eyes under sparse eyebrows were smart and watchful.
Colart Jenicor, the Sun Margrave.
“Here she is,” he said. “You can stop haunting me now.”
Someone moved on the balcony. A man in black and green stood up from a chair.
Everard.
Damn it.
“Lady Demarr, I presume,” the Sun Margrave said. “The Lord of Selva tells me you have something vital for me. Something so important that he showed up at my office with the first rays of the sun and refused to leave. I’m eager to hear what it is.”
What was it he had said to me when we were trying to figure out what to do with the Yolentas’ salt?I have a friend who works for the Justice Chamber . . .
