Guards watched the crowds from atop the parapets. They’d already heard of unease about the closed gates—Sendoa had always left the Itspi open to the people of Ardenia. It wasn’t his castle as much as it was theirs, he’d said, citing the blood, sweat, and tears conscripts gave to the army, and workers to the diamond mines. Ferdinand would see it his father’s way eventually, Koldo was sure of it. But as of now he didn’t protest the closed gates—the threat of war was too great as the sands on the continent settled. No chance could be taken.
And so the doors were sealed. For safety. For security.
The general’s gaze skipped to the stained glass atop the north tower.
“I am sorry, Ama.”
A shadow skimmed by her as the royal party passed—Geneva, now called Queen Mother—deep in conversation with Satordi as they disappeared into the red bowels of the castle. Ferdinand paused outside the entrance.
“Koldo, a word, if you would, please. In the library.”
“Yes, my king.” The general’s voice was stoic and professional—the exact tone she would’ve used to address a similar request fromSendoa. She’d had decades of practice in hiding her real feelings in public. It would be no different with her son. That was her price to pay in all of this. A small cost in the scheme of all she’d already paid, and lost.
The pair walked silently in to the Itspi and up the stairs. Even with the hidden brace, the king had an obvious limp from his tussle with Amarande. They turned into the great library—a roomy, brightly lit space full of stacks and stacks of manuscripts ranging from poetry to treatises to maps of every known surface of the earth. Like everything else at the Itspi, and in Ardenia for that matter, its holdings had swelled under Sendoa’s watch.
Koldo followed her son to the bank of windows that looked upon the training yard, and they sat beneath a giant tapestry of Sendoa’s grandfather, pictured as a child, mounted regally atop a similarly regal orange-and-black tiger, holding a book. Though his great-grandfather was depicted with butter-blond hair, the resemblance to Ferdinand was striking. He sat under the whimsical portrait and stared at the general with Sendoa’s eyes.
“I cannot mention this to the council or to Geneva,” Ferdinand said, “but I—I was under the impression that we wereonlyto say that Amarande wasmissing. Totellthe people she is dead, when we—and a handful of guards, I might add—know that she is alive and breathing, is too far for me. Why tell a lie that we cannot take back?”
For once, Ferdinand sounded uncertain—more like a boy his age than the ruthless leader Geneva clearly hoped he would become.
The general did not break eye contact, nor did she hesitate. “It must be done.”
It was clear from Ferdinand’s narrowed eyes that her answer did not sit well with him. “Surely there is a way to amend this. I am not one to lie.”
“A lie got you here.”
He grimaced. “But it didn’t have to. We could have told the crowd I am illegitimate—that I am your son—and had been made legitimate in light of recent events.”
Koldo’s heart leapt at the thought. She ignored it. What was done was done.
“The easiest way to lead peacefully is not to invite questions. Allthe caveats you list allow for too many—ones that we don’t have the time or latitude to answer.”
Ferdinand’s voice dropped to a furious whisper. “She is my sister. You are my mother.” He took her hands in his. Koldo’s breath caught. “I don’t like that we’re hiding her away. I don’t like that I have just found you and now I must act as if you are nothing to me.”
Koldo slipped her hands from his grip and immediately regretted it. When would she be able to hold her son again? Then, as she must, she swallowed her feelings and became the stoic general once more.
“Your Highness, there is much to being king that you will not like, but you will do because it is the best route to keeping your people safe.”
“I have learned that lesson from Geneva.” Of this Koldo had no doubt, given what she’d long known. “I just thought in this position it would be different.”
After a moment, Koldo answered, “I can tell you that it is good that you feel this way.”
He glanced up, surprised. “Good?”
Koldo wove her fingers together so that she would not grab his hands or touch his shoulder or do anything else she craved. Instead, she smiled tightly. “Your Highness, tough decisions never get easier. Even for those with the best of intentions, because no decision is perfect. And those with the worst intentions do not care.”
CHAPTER14
LUCAhad ventured underground into the diamond mines of Ardenia only a few times. Dark and claustrophic, they weren’t a place to play, but, as always, if Amarande wanted to go, he had followed.
The pro-Otxoa resistance lived underground, but the world Luca and the others entered under the cover of new dark was nothing like those mines. In fact, instead of a tight, dangerous burrow, these tunnels almost felt like the halls of a castle. The ceilings weren’t as high, the walls were made of smoothed bedrock instead of stacked stones, but they were brightly lit with torches every few strides in a way that mirrored walking through the Itspi at night.
Tala, the leader, gestured Luca in first, followed by Ula, Urtzi close on her heels as usual, with Osana bringing up the rear. In front of him, perhaps a quarter mile down, loomed the glow of a much wider space—and with it, the low whisper of faraway voices.
His people.
In that moment, Luca hesitated, and the black wolf, Beltza, skirted past him. She paused, too, realizing he’d stopped moving, and turned his way, her yellow eyes bright, intelligent, and encouraging.
