“General, my queen, my Otsakumea,” the rebel leader responded, meeting each of them in the eye with a calm, clear voice, “the truth is if my brother is not dead in body, he is to me. I have not seen him since he burned the Otxazulo.”
His delivery was straightforward. Unwavering. There was not an askance glance, or hiccup, or anything else that was the mark of a lie. Still, it was clear that Koldo did not believe him. The general’s instincts were rarely incorrect in Amarande’s experience.
Was Tala’s record of service stronger than blood? What was it that Taillefer had said about blood in the Sand and Sky? It was worthless. Amarande was the last person anyone would call an expert in trust, but if they trusted Osana here—and Amarande did—they’d have to trust Tala by the same measure.
Still, her eyes slipped to Luca. Her Luca. She couldn’t take chances with her love.
Yet Amarande knew he would take chances with himself.
And that was when Luca nodded. “Understood, Tala.”
A succession of thoughts seemed to burn through Luca’s mind as he glanced from the leader and his past, before striking out a hand in Ferdinand’s direction and rapping the table. “And the second Warlord? What do you know?”
“The second Warlord, on the other hand,” Ferdinand answered, “freely visited the caravan, though she prefers the lucrative seas to the Torrentian sun.”
Urtzi’s head popped up, disbelieving. “The Warlord became a pirate?”
“Indeed.”
Geneva had told her daughter that she’d been mentored by the second Warlord, the one who’d passed the title to her a decade earlier. Amarande would not put it past Geneva to use this woman’s life as a model of how to both slip away and be close enough to strike at all times. This was an unsettling possibility—and exactly why she’d pointedly asked about a water escape minutes earlier. “You would know her face, then?”
“Yes,” Ferdinand confirmed. “And I know her preferred name—Alasne.”
The resistance had admitted to knowing very little about any Warlord’s actual identity save for Talmage. Now they knew information on each and every one. Eventually Luca and Torrence could use this in a way that would make each one of the Warlords pay for their crimes, but at the moment the priority was Geneva.
From her spot, Osana straightened and directly addressed Amarande. “I would like the opportunity to aid Ferdinand.” This was no surprise. The pair of them had been nearly inseparable since they were reunited. Yet Osana would not and did not build her case by trotting out her clear feelings for Ferdinand. “I was a regular in Geneva’s camp for three years, and privy secondhand to many of the conversations she had with my sister when she was being groomed to take the mantel of Warlord. In addition, I know the ins and outs of her watchers, and may be an additional resource in identifying them.”
“You’re also her niece and a potential heir to the Basilican throne, Osana,” Joseba reminded her.
It was true—they had been over that particular fact in the daysafter they’d survived the reclamation of the Itspi. Osana’s real father, not the one in the story she’d told as a watcher, was Zavier, Geneva’s older brother. Her mother was Eritrian, and she’d grown up there with her older sister Celia before they were both shipped to the Warlord’s tent by her father, to gain a semblance of power and education under Geneva’s wing. This was something else they’d come to understand—select members of Domingu’s family tree had known exactly where Geneva was the entire time. Which made the current situation quite worrisome, indeed.
“Your claim through your father is better than even Queen Amarande’s, and nearly as good as Geneva’s, though I doubt they would consider her… given the circumstances.” Joseba’s cheeks flushed, and he stared at his pale hands. “It is a less exciting prospect, but it might be more reasonable to stay close at hand should a letter arrive from the Aragonesti.”
Osana’s cerulean eyes narrowed. “Councilor, I will not sit in a tower and wait for a bird.”
Amarande nearly chuckled. Even Ferdinand’s lips twitched in amusement. Poor Joseba only blushed higher in the face. But Osana was not done.
“If I am the right branch on Domingu’s rambling family tree to be made princess, and I highly doubt it, they will just have to wait until Ferdinand and I are successful in capturing the continent’s most dangerous fugitive.”
Osana was not wrong. Amarande nodded at her cousin. “Osana, if you would like, we will defend your succession interests should Basilica reach out ahead of the conclave, or should you not complete the assignment ahead of the conclave, we can represent you there if you wish.”
Osana eyed Joseba.
“I wish.”
“Very well,” Amarande answered, by way of completion. Joseba did not glower—that had been Satordi’s role, but it was not this councilor’s predilection. He didn’t stew about things not going his way nor being called out, he just allowed it to come and spoke when he felt the need. Amarande hoped he would stay that way with age and power.
Luca’s attention swept from Tala to Amarande. “In addition to Ferdinand and Osana’s efforts, I would like to pledge Torrence’s support. Though I recognize we want to keep this effort small enough that it cannot be detected by Geneva or her flock, that does not mean it should be Ferdinand and Osana alone. While it is true that Geneva likely has a chain of aid, it is also true that Torrence has an extensive network of watchers embedded within every corner of the kingdom. We could very easily instruct those watchers to search and report any movement associated with Geneva, Alasne, or Talmage.”
“That support would be most welcome.” Amarande thought it was a fantastic use of resources. Koldo, Ferdinand, and Xixi nodded in agreement.
Ferdinand turned his level gaze to Amarande now as much as to Luca. “And what is the plan when we find her?”
Whatwasthe plan? Despite it all, Amarande did not want Geneva dead. Not even when they fought face-to-face, one-on-one did Amarande ever move to strike a blow that would kill Geneva. She knew she never would.
Geneva was still her mother.
And, looking at Ferdinand here and now, Amarande knew he felt the same. This woman had raised him. Alongside her crimes, her schemes, her twisted plans for him built upon lie after lie, she had built him, too. He had betrayed Geneva to join Amarande, yes. But he would not kill her.
