“I need you to keep Ander on our side,” Fear admitted. “He won’t align with me. But he is your ally. The other clans respect him. Not all, but many of them, will fall in line if Ander and I seem to be united.”
“Who will fall in with us and who won’t? How do we win them over?” I asked.
“Obsidian will likely come with us because they have few other options. The only question is whether their current hatred for Bismyth in general and me in particular will make them resistant enough to follow the queen to their graves.”
His mind worked so quickly, and he sounded so sure of himself as he went on. “Malachite will stay loyal to the queen. Selenite likely will as well. Quartz will follow us if they see Ander and me aligned, but they’ll need both. If I can wrangle Obsidian, and Ander is clearly at our side, Flint will follow.”
The way he was able to read them all amazed me, though I did not want to be impressed.
“And if they know I can’t shift? That you don’t have a way to defeat the queen?”
“There are many ways to defeat the queen,” he said with such confidence, as if half of his world hadn’t been burned to the ground when he tried to tear her from her throne before. “Theyknow that. You don’t need to feel responsible if the alliance fails.”
“You said most of the clans will follow you or Ander.”
“If they are rational. If I make the right case. If Ander and I are a united front and Obsidian makes the intelligent decision. As soon as any of the clans visibly pull away, the entire thing becomes unstable. Some of them will leave, but I need to get enough of them to commit first before they unnerve each other.”
“If anyone can convince them, you can,” I said, not as a compliment, because it was true. Fear smiled as if it were a compliment, because of course he would take it as one. “They have good reason to rebel, with the attack on Obsidian. Would they risk themselves for mortals alone?”
I didn’t understand the shifters. I didn’t understand the way I had seen Obsidian fight for mortal lives today against impossible odds after watching their cruelty at Nez’s castle.
Fear was studying me in a way that I did not like at all, and I knew that he had heard the bitterness.
“What?” I demanded.
“I know you do not want to be queen,” he said. “But I cannot help but think it would be a far better kingdom with you on the throne. With the voice of mortals made loud.”
“Because then you would be the king at my side,” I said wryly.
“Even if I were not king,” he said.
I tied off the end of my braid and flashed a smile at him, though there was no humor in it.
It was only later, when Ander had joined us and we were trudging down the street to the granary where all the clan leaders would meet, that his words came back and haunted me. They were unlike Fear. I had no doubt he was a true believer in the mission, that he cared about freedom for shifters and mortals alike. But he wanted power. He wanted the throne.
Still, the words kept coming back to me.
Even if I were not king.
The grain warehouse where we met seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry. Dust still seemed to hang in the air, motes drifting in the shafts of light coming in through the windows.
It felt so far distant from the other rooms I had seen the shifters meet in, so mortal and unimpressive. If anyone forgot what they were supposed to be fighting for, it was all around us in the mortal boot prints left in the dust-streaked, broad wood floorboards.
The smoke from the pyres seemed as if it had followed us inside. Or perhaps the scent of smoke and of shifter losses just seemed to cling to my skin.
The furnishings available to us were simple enough, and so a row of chairs represented the nine clans.
Fear and I stood within the circle of chairs to represent Bismyth. Those of our clan who were not off patrolling or working with the mortals to rebuild the ruins of their city’s defenses stood behind us.
Ander stood to my left, just a little further away than Fear was to my right. Haron and Nixi stood with him, and a few other Amber clan members were behind.
Most of my attention was on the other clan leaders, and my gaze roamed between them, wishing I had Fear’s easy ability to read anyone.
At least the clan colors made it easier for me to sort out who was who. Deva of Garnet sat close to Vael of Selenite, and that worried me; Fear had said Selenite would be difficult.
Oryn of Lazuli had a book open in her lap and was writing in it. Occasionally, her gaze lifted from the book and settled on someone in a way that suggested they were the next topic, and then she returned to scribbling down her notes.
Sevran of Malachite was watching everyone.
