“I would propose,” Koldo started carefully, “that the ideal resolution and neutralization of Geneva come in two parts. First, that she is captured alive and taken to the Itspi to be held under lock and key. Once that is achieved, the second portion can come into play when the time is right: extradition to Torrence for trial and likely punishment for her time as Warlord.” The general speared Luca in her sights. “This sort of public accountability and recognition of the crimes committed during her reign as Warlord would go far in setting the tone for a new way of life in Torrence. Though, it would be advised that your government is fully formed before such a trial is to take place.”
Yes, Geneva treated as all the Warlords should be.
“That would be a preferable path to justice from my point of view,” Amarande concurred. “Luca?”
“And mine.”
Yet from his end of the table, Tala straightened his posture andreentered the conversation. “Speaking of setting the tone for a new way of life in Torrence. While I believe a public trial for Geneva—and Alasne, if possible—would be a cathartic experience for many of the people in Torrence, there is immediate work to be done.”
“Yes,” Luca interjected, “which is why I will be spending the next several days with the queen, the general, and Councilor Joseba, determining not only what is needed to solidify our government, but also the best course of action to represent Torrence at the conclave.” Then, as if extending an olive branch across the divide of the previous discussion, Luca added, “If you would like to be part of these sessions, Tala, I would greatly appreciate your expertise.”
Tala’s answer was not immediate—words seemed to collect and rearrange themselves on his tongue. Luca waited, almost as if he expected this, his handsome face open and patient. Next to him, though, Ula’s brow furrowed deeper with every passing moment as she watched Tala figure out how best to defy Luca—because it was coming. That much was as clear as an impending storm gathering over the harbor. Amarande did not even hazard a glance in the general’s direction. She knew exactly what she’d find—stern, stoic skepticism.
“With all due respect, my Otsakumea, you should beinTorrence.” Tala laid out his argument as carefully as he’d chosen his earlier words. “You are mostly healed and victorious. Though I do not disagree that it is important to prepare for the conclave and diplomacy, it is also important that your people not only know that you have won but knowyou. The people who live in Torrence have spent seventeen years nomadic, fearful, and bitter. You have taken back your kingdom in theory but there is more to it than winning a battle. These people are spread out and have spent so many years being distrustful of a vicious leader who did not show his or her face. In short, these people must see who you are. You need to be with them, my Otsakumea.”
“Iamwith them, Tala.”
Luca’s reply was quiet yet fierce. Measured. Direct. He straightened in his seat and met the man with the same patient stare he’d used in his previous occupation on unruly horses of a certain age—or at least that was Amarande’s estimation.
“Everything I have done since accepting my place as Otsakumea has been for them. It will take time and effort for them to see that. Perhaps another seventeen years, though I hope it doesn’t take thatlong. Trust is something that is built quickly out of necessity”—here, he pointedly nodded at the man, because this was the type of trust they shared—“or slowly out of caution, but both kinds are strong. If it takes the rest of my life to build a web of trust across our aching kingdom, so be it.”
The answer was solid, and sound, just like Luca himself. But it did not satisfy Tala, though, given that it ignored the crux of his view on the matter.
“My Otsakumea,” he began, scraping at where his usual whiskers would’ve been—he’d shaved ahead of the coronation, “it is my strong suggestion that you spend the week before the conclave traveling your kingdom, meeting your constituents, showing them who you are and what you stand for. They must see your heart and your actions and your mind. It is one thing to know you have won, that you are an Otxoa, that you plan to restore Torrence to its former greatness. It is another to see it with their own eyes.”
In that moment Amarande realized what Tala was prodding at with this repeated insistence. Tala knew as well as everyone else at this table that Luca and Amarande had no intention of being apart. That their decision had only been strengthened since returning to the Itspi. Amarande had every confidence that they could rule their neighboring kingdoms at each other’s side. Luca did, too. Tala, it seemed, did not think work could be done if it wasn’t performed right in front of the people’s faces.
“I do not like this plan,” Koldo stated firmly. No elaboration.
Luca glanced to her and then a slight smile broke across his face. “Tala, that is something that needs to be done—I see the worth in it. But at the moment I’m not sure it’s practical advice. I must prepare to stand for Torrence against the whims of established kingdoms as we lay down the foundations for our new Sand and Sky. I believe I can educate myself best on the ways to shape both our new government and our priorities for the continental covenant from Itspi for the time being.”
Luca gently laid out his argument and then repeated the advantages he had within Ardenia. “Here, I have King Sendoa’s great library, histories and accounts of the laws as they were previously made, and the minds of Queen Amarande, General Koldo, Councilor Joseba, and others who can provide valuable opinions and knowledge for strategy for the kingdoms and the continent.”
The knot at the base of Tala’s throat bobbed. “If you do not meet with your people, my Otsakumea, how will you know what is best for them?”
“Luca will meet with them,in time.” Amarande’s patience wore thin, and she could not keep this interjection from sounding like a slap on the wrist. Nor did she try. “There is more to running a kingdom than tallying grievances.”
Koldo nodded, and even Joseba seemed to concur with a bob of his chin.
Tala rubbed his whiskers again, words gathering for another parry in this argument, when Ula’s hand flew up and landed upon the rebel leader’s shoulder, though her golden eyes were steady on Luca.
“If it’s so important that the Otsakumea know the needs of his people, I volunteer to shout his praises across the countrysideandmake note of every whim and nag from his constituents so that Luca may focus on the much larger picture at hand.”
Amarande could kiss her.
Urtzi looked like he might. “I’ll go, too. With Ula.” Then he added, “For Luca.”
Luca was clearly working not to appear so overjoyed by the suggestion as to insult Tala further. “Ula, I appreciate that offer and your understanding of the need for a two-pronged approach. Perhaps you, Tala, Urtzi, and those from the resistance ranks who would like to spread the word can spend the next several days traveling Torrence not only dispensing news of the reborn kingdom, but also inviting them to see my face and hear my voice? I propose to invite the constituents of Torrence to the Hand the day before the Sand and Sky conclave convenes to hear my promises to them as their newest leader.”
“A coronation?” Joseba clarified.
Luca’s cheeks pinked. “It could be that, too. Yes.”
“It should be,” Amarande agreed, while squeezing the meat of his forearm.
Again, Tala straightened.Again, again, again, with this man.He might have earned his place despite his blood and Koldo’s beliefs, but he also would not stand down. Ever, it seemed. “While I do believe it is wise to address your people ahead of the meeting of the Sand and Sky, I must make one final plea to have you meet with your people first. On their terms, in their world, at their level. Let us look at it thisway—if we were not teetering on a knife’s edge, I would assume that you, Queen Amarande, would make a procession around Ardenia, meeting with those who could not attend your coronation and hearing their concerns.”
Astutely, Tala glanced to Joseba, the single remaining royal councilor. Though he was barely older than Amarande himself, he was a historian of sorts, the nephew of a longtime councilor and erudite to boot.
