Page 162 of Given to the Black King

Torgan has assigned forty soldiers to guard the planting.

He claims they are carrying soil.

Six of them are carrying soil.

The new minister dismounts carefully. She is younger than Callas, older than Perr, and looks directly at the horns over the gate before she looks at me.

Good.

Her name is Maren. Orchard district. River mother, coast father. A deliberate compromise sent north in a blue wool coat.

“Majesty.” She bows. “Serath sends congratulations.”

“Only four months late.”

“The council required time to arrest itself.”

I like her immediately.

Torgan does not.

He dislikes everyone from Serath until they prove otherwise.

The bond carries his assessment: armed guards, wagon weight, priest’s sleeves, distance to my body.

I touch his hand.

He stops counting exits.

Maren notices.

Her gaze moves to the bite at my throat.

She looks away before staring becomes rude.

“The coast inquiry has taken Speaker Reth’s house, three warehouses, and two ships,” she says. “The unpaid companies have received their first repayment. Callas testified for six days.”

“Did he tell the truth?”

“He tried to explain it on the first day.”

“And after?”

“Perr’s copies were read aloud.”

Perr looks pleased.

“Then he told the truth,” Maren says.

“Where is he now?”

“Retired to the coast. He says he is writing a history of the negotiations.”

“Burn it,” Torgan says.

Maren blinks.

“He is joking,” I tell her.