The Spirit War

CHAPTER 6

Five hours after their failed frontal assault, Eli had everything he needed to get them into the castle. Business finished, they were now sitting at a tucked away table in one of the large inns overlooking the palace square, washed, dressed, fed, and killing the last hour before the guard change with a few hands of Daggerback. Josef was winning, which might have been the only reason he was still at the table.

“I don’t understand why you wasted your money,” Josef grumbled, picking up his cards as fast as Eli dealt them. “There’s no point. I told you, we’re just going to leave.”

Eli pursed his lips as he turned over his bid card, a knight. “It wasn’t a waste,” he said. “We have to look at you, too, you know. And the guard was right. You were starting to come off a bit terrifying.”

Josef made a harrumphing noise, and Eli grinned. Despite the swordsman’s scowl, he was looking very well. They’d found a barber to cut his hair and give him a proper shave, and while nothing could be done about his scars, Josef had looked almost civilized when he got out of the chair. Eli had also bought him a new shirt, a white one, with no bloodstains or suspicious holes, as well as some nonpatched trousers. Small changes, really, but the overall effect was a wonder. With a pressed shirt, blond hair cut short and neat, and his chin shaved clean, Eli could almost believe that the man sitting across the table really was a prince. Provided, of course, he looked past the belts of blades Josef refused to take off.

“Five to open,” Eli said, tossing his coins on the table. “Stop complaining, you look lovely. Nico thinks so, too. Don’t you, Nico?”

Nico jumped and peeked over her cards. “He looks nice,” she said, placing her ante next to Eli’s. “But he looked nice before, too.”

Josef gave Eli a “there, you see” smirk as he dropped his money onto the pile.

“There’s nice that’s fit for gutting people and nice that’s fit for palaces,” Eli said pointedly. “Besides, boys shouldn’t visit their mothers in shirts that have stab holes, or with hair that looks like he cuts it with a throwing knife.”

“Skinning knife,” Josef corrected. “I use my skinning knife.”

“Moving on,” Eli said. “We are all agreed that you look quite well now. Looking well is universally useful, so the money wasn’t wasted. I bet two.”

Josef slapped two coins on the table without looking up. “Match.”

Nico glanced at Josef, then at Eli. “Fold.”

“One down,” Eli said, grinning as Nico lay her cards on the table. “Two again.”

Josef matched his bet with a nasty look. They went back and forth for another minute, trading coins until the pile was quite impressive. Finally, Eli called it, and they showed their hands. Josef won with a pair of kings. He scooped up the money with a satisfied smile while Eli watched glumly. When it was all gone, the thief stood with a resigned sigh.

“I think I’ve lost enough for one day,” he said. “Josef, since you have all our gold at the moment, would you settle the tab?”

“Since it’s your money, sure.”

Josef set the Heart in the corner and made his way to the bar. When he was gone, Nico turned to Eli.

“Why did you keep betting?” she asked quietly. “You knew he had a better hand.”

“That I did,” Eli said. “But there’s more to the game than gold, and Josef’s always in a better mood when he wins.”

He gave Nico a brilliant smile as he grabbed his bag and made his way toward the back door. Nico watched him with a puzzled expression until Josef returned.

The swordsman paused. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Josef shrugged and motioned for Nico to lead the way to the alley where Eli was waiting.

At eight o’clock precisely, the guard changed as scheduled. Five minutes later, a carriage pulled into the palace square. The carriage was a fine one, with a matched pair of bays and a liveried footman who jumped down the moment the wheels stopped. The footman opened the door and flipped the folding stair out with a clack. From the shadows inside the shuttered carriage, a gloved hand reached out, and the footman hurried to help the gentleman down.

The passenger was a genteel figure in an old-fashioned long coat, fitted pants, and short boots cut from two shades of black leather. His face was obscured by a full, gray beard trimmed to a neat point, but his blue eyes were magnified by the silver spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose. The old man moved slowly, leaning on the footman. He looked so fragile as he climbed down that the junior guard started forward to help him, but the senior guard stopped him with a shake of his head, and they held their position as the footman helped the old man down to the street.

As soon as the gentleman cleared the carriage door, another man exited almost on his heels. The second man was dressed similarly to the first, same old-fashioned coat and two-tone boots, but he was younger, much larger, and armed with two swords at his side as well as a long, sword-shaped-wrapped bundle on his back. He had a silver-tipped cane and a leather-wrapped satchel tucked under his arm, both of which he handed to the first man as soon as he reached the ground. The older man took the cane and the satchel gratefully, leaning on the first while he undid the straps on the second.

The younger man paid the footman without comment. From the way the footman began to bow and scrape, it must have been an impressive amount. After much groveling, the footman climbed back onto his perch and the carriage pulled away, leaving the two men alone with the guards.

The senior guard eyed the way the armed man rested his hands on his sword hilts and stepped forward, putting himself between the new arrivals and the palace gate.

“May I help you?”

“One moment, if you please,” the older man said, still digging through his satchel.

The guard relaxed just a fraction. The expensive clothes had been a good hint, but now he was sure these were men of import. No one with an accent that refined could be up to trouble.

After much digging, the old man pulled a small book out of his bag and began thumbing through it. “Here we are,” he said, stopping somewhere in the middle. “I’m looking for a Mr. Wallace.” He glanced over his spectacles at the older guard. “That would be you?”

“Yes, sir.” The senior guard, Wallace, stood at attention. “Are you expected?”

The old man sighed and adjusted his spectacles. “I shouldn’t think so, Mr. Wallace. My name is Velsimon Whitefall and this is my bodyguard, Officer Fuller. We’re with the National Obligation Audit Division of the Council Tax Bureau.”

The man with the swords nodded, but Wallace didn’t see him, the gate guard was too busy turning a pasty shade of grayish pink. He didn’t know much about the inner working of the Council of Thrones, but he knew the name Whitefall, and he knew that anyone from an office with “Audit” in the title was no one you wanted at your gate.

“I apologize for our late arrival,” the old man continued. “We were delayed leaving the mainland, but our business here is of the most pressing urgency. There was a bit of a miscalculation on Osera’s last payment and I need to speak with your treasury officer, Mr.…”

“Lord Obermal?” Wallace suggested.

“Ah yes, Obermal.” The old man closed his little book with a sigh. “There are so many countries now, they all start to”—he waved his hands in a circle—“roll together.” He finished with a shrug. “Would you be so kind as to take us to him?”

“I’m afraid Lord Obermal is at dinner,” Wallace said carefully.

“Then I think you should fetch him,” the old man said. “As I said, this is a matter of some urgency. I wouldn’t be wasting my evening begging at gates were it otherwise, would I, Mr. Wallace?”

If possible, Wallace went paler still. “I—”

“Perhaps you could show us to his office and we could wait for him there?” the old man suggested helpfully. “So Lord Obermal doesn’t have to come all the way to the gate?”

He punctuated this last bit with pointed lean on his cane. Wallace took the hint. “Of course, Lord Whitefall, of course.” He looked over his shoulder. “Higgins!”

The younger guard snapped to attention.

“Take our guests to the treasury office. I’ll go and fetch Lord Obermal.”

The younger guard saluted and ran to open the gate for the Council Auditor and his guard. “This way, please, Lord Whitefall.”

The old man smiled his thanks and hobbled into the palace, his cane clicking on the cobbles. His bodyguard went next, followed by Wallace, who walked with them just long enough to make sure Higgins was taking them the right way. When he saw the younger guard leading them up the stairs toward the treasury office, he grabbed a pair of guards from hall patrol and sent them to watch the gate. His duty satisfied, he ran to find Lord Obermal before things got any worse.

Fifteen minutes later, Lord Obermal, Keeper of the Treasury of Osera, excused himself from dinner with the Crown Secretary and the Officer of the Queen’s Horse and set off for his office at a dead run.

“You’re sure they said the National Obligation Audit Division?” he said, panting at Wallace, who was jogging beside him.

“Positive, my lord,” Wallace said.

The treasury keeper made a noise like a mouse getting stepped on. “Audit officers, and a Whitefall no less, here at eight in the evening! Oh, there must have been some terrible mistake. I don’t know how. I reviewed all the numbers myself. Did he say what payment he was here to inspect?”

“No, my lord,” Wallace said. “But he made it seem deadly urgent.”

“It’s always urgent when it comes to the Council and money,” Lord Obermal said, voice trembling. “The queen will have my head if we get audited now, what with everything going on.”

Wallace jogged ahead to open the door to the treasury office. “I had Higgins put them in the receiving room,” he said as Lord Obermal rushed past him. “Anything else I can do for you, my lord?”

“Yes,” Obermal said, grabbing a stack of ledgers from his assistant’s desk. “Don’t tell anyone about this until I’ve had a chance to talk to the queen. We can’t afford a panic.”

“Understood, sir,” Wallace said, stepping back into the hallway. “Good luck, sir.”

Obermal nodded and took a deep breath. Then, hugging the ledgers to his chest, he walked through his office and into the receiving room.

“Lord Whitefall,” he said, trying his best to sound like he wasn’t panicking. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I have all of Osera’s payment records right—”

He stopped, the account books slipping as his fingers went slack.

The receiving room was empty. Obermal stood frozen for a moment as his brain switched from one panic to another. When he could move again, he turned and ran for the hall as fast as his old legs could go, shouting for Wallace.

“There,” Eli said, peeling the fake beard off his face as they walked briskly through the back halls of the palace. “What did I tell you? Not even ten minutes.”

“Fine, you were right,” Josef said, unbuttoning the stuffy longcoat. “How did you know it would work?”

“Have you ever been through a Council audit?” Eli said, taking off his spectacles. “Nasty, expensive business, and the auditors are the last people you want to be out of sorts. That’s actually the third time I’ve pulled that scam. Works every time.”

Josef rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, and why do I always have to be your bodyguard when we do these things?”

“Because, my dear Josef, you are a fighter, not an actor,” Eli said with a smile. “The only expressions your face can produce are surly and murderous, so I have to cast you in rolls that highlight those particular aspects. Also, since I have about as much chance getting you to leave your swords behind as you have of convincing me you’re lead soprano at the Zarin Opera, it seemed the most prudent course of action.”

Josef shook his head. “Why do I even bother?”

“I haven’t any idea,” Eli said, grinning wider. “Where’s Nico?”

Josef glowered at the convenient subject change, but let it slide. He was wondering the same thing. “She should be somewhere around—”

A brush on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to see Nico stepping out of a deep-shadowed corner.

Eli bundled his somber coat together with Josef’s and put them, along with his false beard and spectacles, into the leather satchel, which he then stashed in the nearest closet. He made a mental note of the door just in case they ever got a chance to come back. The Council Audit scam was a sure bet, but it was horrendously expensive to set up. He didn’t want to abandon the coats unless he had to.

When he was satisfied he could find the closet again in a hurry, he turned to Josef. “Well, my lord prince, where now?”

“Don’t call me that,” Josef snapped, setting off down the hall. “And this way. We’re going to see the queen.”

“Just like that?” Eli said, frowning.

Josef nodded. “Just like that. Nico, you’re on scout. I’ve got point. We’re headed for the north wing. Keep the guards away.”

“Right,” Nico said, vanishing into the shadows like smoke.

Eli whistled, impressed. “Nice to see she’s got it back.”

Josef stomped off down the hall without comment. Eli sighed and fell into step behind him.

They took a convoluted path through the servant passages, though any route would have been twisty, considering how the old palace wrapped around the mountain peak. Eli had been disappointed to see that the palace’s outward shabbiness continued on the inside. The whole place seemed to be nothing but oppressive stone walls and wooden floors hollowed by centuries of feet. The narrow halls would have made avoiding people difficult, but, fortunately, most of the palace seemed occupied with after-dinner entertainment. Eli heard voices through doors and around corners, but they never encountered another person, servant or guard, even when they entered what was obviously a private wing. He was just starting to feel a little unsettled by this when Josef turned a corner and stopped.

They were standing in a long gallery. One wall had sets of narrow windows paned with leaded glass; the other was lined with portraits of stern, fair-haired men. At the end of the gallery, directly across from where they stood, two guards were slumped on the floor. Nico stood beside them, rubbing her hand.

Eli sighed. Of course.

“Nice work,” he said flatly as Josef went to help Nico roll the soldiers aside.

“They’ll be fine,” Josef said. “I taught her how to do it. Right, Nico?”

Nico nodded. “Clean strike to the neck from behind,” she said, looking at Eli. “What? It’s never bothered you before when we knocked out guards.”

“But these are his mother’s guards,” Eli said, pointing at Josef. “It feels rude.”

Josef’s lip curled into a dark smile. “They’re guards in Osera. If they can’t take a little hit to the head, they shouldn’t be here.” He turned away from Eli’s grimace to face the closed door at the end of the gallery. “Let’s get this over with.”

He strode down the hall and opened the door with a shove. The first thing Eli noticed about the royal chamber was that, for the home of the monarch of a wealthy nation, it was remarkably cramped. The room was as narrow as the gallery, and the dark tapestries depicting battles and hunts that covered most of the stone walls made it feel only smaller. Same for dim light coming from the half-lit candelabra that hung from the high, but not impressively high, ceiling. There was a raised, wooden dais at the far end of the room, obviously meant for receiving guests in royal fashion, but the ornate chair at its center was empty and the gold-plated lamps were dark. For several seconds, Eli thought they’d come all this way for nothing, but then his eyes drifted to the small fireplace in the corner. There, a low couch was pulled up to the feeble fire, and on it, lying buried under a large blanket, was an old woman.

The firelight dug deep shadows below her eyes, painting her wrinkles in long black gouges. There was a stack of papers on her lap, but she wasn’t looking at them. Instead, she lay back on the pillows with her eyes shut and her thin mouth pressed in a tight line, as though she were biting her teeth against some long-running pain. Her hair, a thin, brittle mix of pale gold and white, lay spread out on the pillows behind her, freshly washed and combed, though Eli saw no one who could have combed it. The three of them hung at the door, hesitant. The room was so dark, the scene of the old woman sleeping by the fire so private, Eli felt almost guilty stepping inside. Even Josef seemed to have lost his urgency. He stood hovering beside Eli, his scarred face strangely blank as he watched the old woman sleeping.

It was the woman herself who broke the silence. One second Eli would have bet his bounty she was deep asleep, the next her voice rang clear and cold through the room.

“I gave strict orders I was not to be disturbed,” she said, pale eyes cracking open under her narrow, furrowed brows. “If this is not a matter of national emergency, I…” Her voice trailed off when she spotted Josef, and her whole, skeletal body went white as chalk.

Josef stiffened, and Eli leaned back to watch. He loved family reunions. He rather hoped the old woman would cry, if for no other reason than to see how Josef’s stony swordsman routine would hold up under a mother’s tears. But when the queen spoke again, her voice was even colder than before.

“Home at last,” she said. “Why am I not surprised to find you sneaking in like a thief in the night, Thereson?”

“You put the bounty on my head,” Josef said. “How else did you expect me to arrive when you made me a criminal, mother?”

The anger in Josef’s voice made Eli wince, but the woman, whom Eli now knew was Queen Theresa, seemed unmoved.

“You left me little other recourse,” she said. “It is a sad lot for Osera when her prince requires such drastic measures to bring him back to his duty.”

Josef crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not here to relive old fights,” he growled. “I came only because you made it clear that you were willing to bankrupt Osera to get me home. So here I am. Now tell me what you want so I can tell you no and we can be done with this idea that I’m still yours to command.”

Theresa’s pale lips curled in a long, slow smile. “But you are, child. You’ve proved it, just now. You came back. It is but a tiny shred of the responsibility my son should hold, but it is a shred more than many thought you had.”

Josef gritted his teeth. “Get on with it.”

Slowly, with great effort, Queen Theresa sat up. She pulled her thin, bony hand from beneath the blanket and held it out, pointing out the tiny window east, toward the Unseen Sea. “The Immortal Empress has returned.”

Josef’s shoulders tensed, but his voice remained insultingly casual. “So? What do you want me to do about it?”

Theresa’s eyes narrowed. “Your duty,” she spat. “After fifteen years of silence, the Empress’s shipyards are active again. My spies report a fleet of palace ships nearly finished. You are Oseran; you know what that means.” Her voice began to quiver. “She is coming, Thereson. If we are to stand against her, Osera must be strong.”

“Osera is strong,” Josef said.

“But I am not,” Theresa said, her bony hand clenching into a shaking fist.

Josef sighed. “You don’t look that bad.”

“Really?” the queen snapped. “Look at me again.” She raised her hand to her face, pressing her thin fingers into the deep hollows of her cheeks. “Look.”

Josef looked, jaw clenched. “Fine, you look terrible. Is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry you’re sick, but—”

The queen’s gray eyes grew stony, shutting Josef’s mouth with a single look. “Sick?” she said softly. “Sick is what I’ve been for the last five years, not that you would know. But I’m no longer sick, Thereson. I am dying. Even my doctors have stopped pretending I will see another year.”

Eli could hear Josef’s teeth grinding, but the queen didn’t flinch. For the first time, Eli could see the family resemblance. The queen looked like Josef did right before he threw his sword away and grabbed the Heart.

“Disappointment that you are,” she said, “you are my only child, the only full-blooded heir remaining to the Throne of Iron Lions. If our line is to continue, you must—”

“Must what?” Josef said with a bitterness Eli had never heard in his voice before. “Maybe you’ve forgotten in your old age, mother, but you were the one who told me I would never be king. That you would disown me if I continued my ‘swordsman nonsense.’ ” He laid his hand on the Heart of War’s wrapped hilt. “My sword has stood me better than your throne. I won’t abandon it just because you’ve changed your mind.”

“My mind remains as it ever has,” the queen said through clenched teeth. “So does your stubborn ability to hear what you want instead of what I say. Listen closely, boy. I’m not asking you to be king.”

Josef froze. “You’re not?”

“Of course not.” Theresa lay back on her lounge with a huff. “Do you have any idea how hard I fought to inherit when my father died? How hard I fought to stay queen when my own cousins said a woman could never lead Osera? Do you think I’d leave that hard-won legacy to a selfish, violent, shiftless brat who doesn’t have the presence of mind to be a prince, much less a king?”

She tilted her head, waiting for an answer. When none came, she continued. “Your cousin, Finley, will become king when I pass.”

“Finley?” Josef roared. “Powers, woman! If you had an heir, why did you drag me all the way out here?”

“Because Osera has no heir!” the queen roared back. “Finley’s not an Eisenlowe. He’s blood enough to take the throne in an emergency, but not to pass it on to his son. Honestly,” she huffed, “after all I spent on your tutors, I’d have hoped you’d remember something of Oseran law.”

Josef shook his head, but Theresa held up her hand, cutting him off before he could get a word in. “I’m not asking you to be king, Thereson,” she said coldly. “But I am asking you to do your duty to the family. There is only one royal blood line in Osera, and, tragically, that line runs through you. We have no other options. You must give Osera an heir.”

Josef recoiled in horror. “An heir? You mean—”

“A baby, yes,” his mother said. “I’m sure even you can manage that much. I know the princess can.”

This was enough to make Eli break his uncharacteristic silence. “Wait, princess?”

“Yes,” the queen said, raising her voice. “Adela!”

Josef pressed his hand to his forehead as the door to the queen’s chamber burst open and a squad of guards marched into the room. There were a dozen of them at least, but Eli’s attention was on the woman who led them. She was shockingly lovely. As tall as Josef and clad in shining silver armor with an ornate short sword at her hip. Her hair was deep brown, almost black, and braided tight against her head. Her skin was the warm, healthy tan of someone who spent most of her time outdoors, but her brown eyes were narrowed in the cold stare of an absolute professional as she marched toward them.

Eli raised his hands without prompting, but the woman brushed past him, going straight for Josef. Eli felt Nico stiffen, and he put a warning hand on her arm. The other guards were fanning out around them, cutting off the exits. Nico glanced at him, then at Josef, and then at the door, but Eli shook his head. Josef hadn’t moved yet.

Now that the door was open, another woman, older but also shockingly lovely despite her simple black dress, walked briskly into the queen’s chamber and hurried to Theresa’s side. Eli tilted his head, watching as the woman began to fuss over the queen. But Theresa shook her head and gently pushed the woman’s hands away.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you, Lenette.”

The woman in black nodded and fell back, surrendering her place beside the queen to the young, armored woman. The circle of guards tightened, and Eli glanced at Josef, but the swordsman still hadn’t moved. He simply stood there, staring at the queen. For her part, Theresa was leaning back on her pillows, enjoying the turned tables.

“Thereson,” she said, placing her hand on the lovely young woman’s arm. “You remember Adela, don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” Josef grumbled. His mother arched an eyebrow, and he adjusted his tone. “Good evening, Princess Adela.”

“Prince Thereson,” the woman said with a nod.

Eli looked from the lovely woman to Josef and back again. There wasn’t much resemblance, but…

“Your sister?” he guessed.

“No,” Josef said. “That’s my wife.”

Utter silence descended. Even Eli was speechless. But it wasn’t Eli who recovered first. The voice that broke the silence was Nico’s.

“Wife?”

Eli groaned inwardly. Nico was staring at Josef, eyes wide with a look of complete betrayal.

“Wife?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Josef shouted, stabbing his finger at the queen. “She married me in absentia last year. I didn’t even know about it until a few months ago.”

Eli took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn’t rise to it, that now was not the time, but for once his tongue was faster than his good sense. “Months ago?” he cried. “And when exactly were you planning on sharing this bit of important social news?”

“Never,” Josef said. “Because it’s not important. It wasn’t like I had a say. I can’t control what my mother does without my knowledge.”

Nico took a step back. She was still staring at Josef, her eyes so wide Eli could see the whites all the way around.

“Nico,” Josef said, his voice warning.

She took another step.

Josef looked at her, his face as close to panic as Eli had ever seen it. “Nico, listen—”

Before he could say anything else, Nico vanished. There was no sound, no flash. She simply snuffed out like a candle.

After that, everything happened at once.

Josef roared curses as the startled guards rushed forward, swords drawn. Eli put up his hands as a blade pressed into his back, but when a guard tried the same to Josef, the swordsman whirled around, grabbed the sword out of the guard’s hand, and threw him to the ground so hard the man bounced. The guard’s sword followed a second later as Josef, still cursing, threw it hilt first at the man’s head.

With that, Josef straightened up, rolled his shoulders, and started for the door. Started, and then stopped cold. Eli blinked in surprise. He hadn’t seen her move, hadn’t heard her, but the princess was suddenly right behind Josef, the tip of her short sword pressed into his right shoulder.

“That’s enough, Prince Thereson,” she said quietly. “One more step and I sever the ligament that moves your sword arm. Hands where I can see them, please.”

Josef put his hands out slowly, and the princess turned him around to face the queen again.

“What was that?” the queen said in a low, angry voice. “What have you gotten yourself involved with, Thereson?”

Eli gritted his teeth. Things were rapidly falling apart. It wasn’t so much the sword at his own back. He could duck out of that easily enough. But he could see Josef’s hands shaking as the queen questioned him. The swordsman was pale with rage, the kind that took some good old-fashioned violence to pull him out of, and the queen wasn’t letting up. It was up to Eli to act fast before Josef did something they’d regret.

“Your majesty,” he said, stepping past Josef and the princess with a florid bow, much to his guard’s surprise. Josef whipped around, but Eli stomped on his toes before the swordsman could say anything and smiled his best smile at the queen. “I believe we’ve started this on the wrong foot.”

The queen looked down her nose at him, quite a feat, considering he was standing and she was sitting. “And who are you? What makes you think you have the right to speak in my presence?”

Eli’s smile grew even more charming. “Because I am the son of one of your oldest allies.” He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a creased slip of paper, which he handed to the queen with a flourish. “Eliton Banage.”

“Banage?” The queen frowned, confused. “You are Etmon’s son?”

“The very same,” Eli said as she took the paper from his fingers. “And every bit as much of a disappointment to him as our dear Josef is to you.”

The queen glanced at the paper. “This is a Council identity paper for a child,” she said. “And it’s almost two decades out of date.”

“I don’t get home much,” Eli said, his voice deepening to a tragic note. “My father and I don’t get along, as you can see. But he always spoke very highly of you and his time fighting for Osera against the Empress.”

Queen Theresa arched an eyebrow. “I sincerely doubt that,” she said, handing the slip of paper to the lovely lady in black. “You won’t object if I ask Lenette to check the validity of your statement? I will admit there is a family resemblance, but I must be sure. Still”—her eyes narrowed—“you are the right age.”

Eli gave her his best innocent look. The queen didn’t seem to buy it.

“Well,” Theresa said, sitting back. “If you are indeed Etmon’s son, then I welcome you, but this is a family matter. You’d do best to stay out of it.”

Eli’s face clouded with a look of deep pain. “I understand your reticence, your grace,” he said gently. “But your son and I have been thick as thieves for a while now. I know him as I know myself, and, if I may be so bold, I don’t think you have things quite by the right end.” He clasped his hands, and his voice shook with earnest emotion. “Whatever terms he may have left you on, your majesty, Josef dropped everything to come here when he saw those posters. Even I was inspired. He’s trying to do the right thing, but it’s not easy. He’s been living his life moment to moment as a mercenary for years, and now, to suddenly hear that he’s expected to father a child with a wife he’s known about for only a few months, that’s a bone for any man to swallow. As you saw, the mere mention was too much for our other companion.”

“Yes,” the queen said, leaning forward. “What about your companion?”

“Oh, Nico does that all the time,” Eli said, waving her words away. “She’s quite the escape artist. Some people swear she disappears into thin air, but I’m sure your majesty is not one to be fooled by such cheap tricks.”

The queen glared at him. “I don’t care for your quick tongue, Mr. Banage. Get to the point.”

Eli’s smile faltered just a hair. “My point, majesty, is that we’ve been traveling for a week solid to come into your presence, and we’re tired. Surely you would not begrudge your son a night to think things over before he’s forced into the marriage bed?” He turned his smile to the princess, who still had her sword pressed into Josef’s back. “Lovely as this young lady is, it’s a big change for our Josef, and he takes to change about as well as a rock takes to floating. I’m sure that in the morning, once he’s had time to think about what he owes his family, he’ll be much more tractable.”

The queen tilted her head, considering. “The young Banage makes a good point,” she said. “Adela, release him.”

The sword vanished from Josef’s back, and the princess stepped aside to stand next to the queen once again. The other soldiers stood down as well, and Eli breathed a sigh of relief.

Josef lowered his arms and turned around, glaring daggers at his mother. The queen met him in kind, glaring so hard Eli was afraid the air between them would start to boil.

“Your friend has bought you a night of reprieve,” she said at last. “You will stay in the palace tonight. The guards will take you to your rooms, but before that, I want you to look at me.”

Josef’s jaw clenched, but the queen cut him off before he could get a word out.

“No,” she said quietly. “Do not speak. Look.”

And with that, the queen tossed aside her blanket with a bony hand. Lenette and Adela both moved to help her, but the queen pushed them away. Slowly, painfully, Theresa pulled herself to her feet, standing by her own power before the fire.

It was a sad sight. The silk nightgown hung from the queen’s bony shoulders. Her arms were so thin, Eli could have wrapped his hand all the way around her bicep. If her back were straight, she might have been as tall as Josef, but the queen was bent with age, her spine curved in an unnatural arc that forced her to lean forward. Even so, she straightened as well as she could before holding out her arms.

“Look at me, Prince Thereson,” she said, her voice as hard as the stone around them. “Look at what is left of Osera’s queen. The Empress’s hammer falls on our shores, and this weak, dying body is all that stands to face her. You’ve been stubborn as a pig all your life, but if I ever did my duty as your mother, as your queen—if I ever instilled even a stirring of love for you homeland in that bitter, guarded heart of yours, then, just this once, listen to my command. Do your duty. Be Osera’s prince, if only to pass on the blood of our ancestors, and I will never bother you again.”

She stood a moment longer, and then fell back onto her couch. Lenette was at her side immediately, fussing and pressing the queen’s blanket back across her legs. The queen paid the lady no mind. Her eyes never left Josef’s, daring him to defy her again. Josef didn’t say a word. When the guards moved to lead them away, Josef let them, but he never stopped watching his mother until the guards closed her doors behind them.

In Eli’s experience, “room” was a royal euphemism for prison cell, and his suspicions proved correct. The guards led them up a flight of stairs to a nondescript hall lined with heavy wooden doors, not barred but not exactly inviting either. They stopped at two doors right next to each other. Josef went through the first, Eli the second, stumbling in as the guards locked the iron bolt from the outside with a solid click.

Eli sighed at the barred door and then took a moment to consider his situation. He’d been in nicer cells, but not many. There was a feather bed, a porcelain washstand, an ornate wooden table with books, cards, and a lamp turned low. The wooden floor was carpeted, and the bars on the narrow window were tastefully obscured behind thick curtains. It was all very well done and, for a lesser man, very secure. Eli, however, was the greatest thief in the world. Five minutes after the guards left, he was hanging off the palace’s outer wall, banging on Josef’s shuttered window.

The swordsman opened the shutters on the third knock, and Eli wiggled through the bars to land in a heap on Josef’s rug.

“Well,” he said, brushing himself off. “That was exciting. Ready to go?”

Josef sat down on his bed and didn’t answer. Eli stood up, casing the room as he did. It was identical to his own, but Josef had pushed the writing table into the corner and was using the chair to prop up his weaponry with the Heart leaning against the wall. Eli grimaced, glancing from swords to swordsman. Josef bladeless was always a bad sign. Nico was also still conspicuously absent, despite the dozens of shadows available. Very bad indeed. He would have to tread lightly.

He walked over and took a seat on the bed, sinking down beside Josef.

“Listen,” he said. “Remember the plan? We made it. We talked to your mother. She told you what you were going to do, and then you told her what you were going to do. So that’s it. We’re done.”

Josef stared straight ahead and said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about finding a nice job down south,” Eli continued. “Big money, exotic locals, lots of good fights. If we leave tonight we can probably catch the pirate king’s fleet before he goes back to sea. He’s supposed to employ some of the nastiest swordsmen on the continent. What do you say?”

He turned to Josef with a bright smile, but the swordsman didn’t even look his way, and Eli’s smile fell into a scowl.

“Powers, Josef,” he said, kicking the bed. “Snap out of it. We’re thieves, remember? No one expects anything from us. The queen makes a nice speech, but no country teeters on the presence of one man. You already have a cause, remember? You swore to become the greatest swordsman in the world, the worthy wielder of the Heart of War. That’s a noble goal, and you can’t achieve it here.” He stood up, tugging Josef’s sleeve. “Come on, get your things. I’ll call for Nico and we’ll all get out of here together, tonight, just like we planned.”

He walked to the window and was getting ready to climb out when Josef finally spoke.

“I can’t.”

Eli closed his eyes and cursed silently. When that was done, he turned, keeping his face cheerfully neutral. “Why not?”

Josef made a frustrated sound and ran his scarred hands through his newly trimmed hair. “Do you know why I became a swordsman?”

“Because you’re good at it?” Eli guessed.

“Because it’s the only thing I’m good at,” Josef said. “I was a miserable failure at everything else, being a prince, being a son, being a politician. I hated it, all of it. Swordsmanship was the only thing that made life livable. The only thing I wanted to do.”

He stopped, and Eli shifted awkwardly. This was the most Josef had ever told him about his past, and he wasn’t sure what the swordsman expected him to say. Finally, he settled for putting a comforting hand on Josef’s shoulder. Josef didn’t seem to notice.

“I made my choice when I was fifteen,” he said, his voice low. “In Osera, everything’s about the queen. You live for the queen, fight for the queen, die for the queen. I didn’t want to live for her, didn’t want to live for anyone. I wanted to be a swordsman, to fight for the sake of getting better, not because I was ordered to. So I took my swords and I left. Just walked out. I swore that I would return only when I had become the greatest swordsman in the world.” He clutched his fists together with an intensity that made Eli flinch. “The best,” he said again. “Don’t you see? If I falter, if I take even one step back, then all the problems I caused by leaving—my mother’s suffering, the messed-up succession, Osera’s shame at having a runaway prince—it will be for nothing.”

“Josef,” Eli said. “It’s not—”

“That’s why I never came home before when she tried to make me,” Josef rolled right over him. “But as soon as I saw the poster, I knew this time was different.”

He looked up, and Eli saw with a shock that his eyes were red.

“She’s dying, Eli.” Josef’s voice was so soft Eli could barely make out the words. “My mother is dying. Believe me, I want to dive out that window with you, but I can’t. Not now.” He took a deep breath and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Her telling me she didn’t want me to be king was the final straw, you know. If she’d been unreasonable and demanded that I give up swordsmanship and take the throne, I could have told her to shove off. But all she wants is an heir, a child of the blood to preserve the family. How can I deny her such a small request?”

Eli didn’t think a child was a small request, but he said nothing. They sat for a long while, letting the silence hang like a dead thing in the air between them. Finally, Eli heaved an enormous sigh.

“Bugger all,” he grumbled, pushing himself off the bed. “You picked a really bad time to have a fit of responsibility. Nico’s back on her game, we finally have the chance to pull some real heists, and you have to get all prodigal son on me, Thereson.”

“Don’t start, Eliton,” Josef snapped. “You must be feeling suicidal, posing as the Rector Spiritualis’s son. What made you think of that?”

“It was the best trick I had,” Eli said, keeping his voice casual. “Queen Theresa’s debt to Banage is well known. The name gave her cause to think twice at the very least, and if I hadn’t given her a compelling reason not to throw me out, you’d be spending tonight with the lovely Adela. Of course,” he said, glaring down at Josef, “if I’d known you were going to get all noble prince on me, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Josef let the barb roll off with a shrug. “You’re being thicker than usual if you think it isn’t going to come back around,” he said. “This isn’t some idiot guard you’re bluffing. You know the queen is going to check. I’d bet money the Spirit Court is here tomorrow morning, hunting for your hide.”

“Really?” Eli said. “How much money?”

Josef arched an eyebrow. “You have a good reason why they wouldn’t be?”

Eli folded his arms behind his back. “Let me come at this from another angle for you. Anyone who pays attention to bounties knows that Josef Liechten pals around with Eli Monpress, right? So think, what happens when you show up out of nowhere with a handsome young man who looks even a little like the posters? Queen Theresa hasn’t hung onto her throne as long as she has by being an idiot. She’d figure things out real quick. By giving her another trail to sniff, I bought us time to escape. Which, of course, is wasted now.”

Josef rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Still doesn’t explain why you chose Banage. Seems needlessly reckless to me.”

Eli smiled grimly. “I wasn’t lying when I said the Rector Spiritualis was ashamed of his son. Let’s just say that Banage has more on the line than most in making sure that any Eliton appearances stay uninvestigated. Your mother can send messages all she likes, but if we see so much as an apprentice come down to investigate, I’ll eat your sword.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Josef said, tugging off his boots. “Get out of here, I’m going to bed. If I have to be home, I’m not doing it on no sleep.”

“Bridegrooms do need their sleep,” Eli said sagely.

The look Josef gave him wiped the smile clear off Eli’s face, and the thief wisely decided it was time to leave his friend alone. He stood up and wiggled out the window as easily as he’d wiggled in. He had time for one last wave before Josef slammed the shutter behind him. Duly rebuked, Eli hung on the stone ledge momentarily, searching the shadows for Nico. He knew she was there. He could almost feel her watching. He called her name softly, but there was no answer, nothing but the wind blowing up the mountain and the sound of the city below.

Feeling defeated and more than a little angry, Eli pulled himself along the ledge and through the bars into his room. He landed on the carpet and picked himself up, snuffing out the lamp with a wave of his hand. He crossed the dark room and collapsed facedown on his bed. He rolled around awhile, wiggling out of his clothes and tossing his wig over the bedpost. Finally undressed, he flopped onto the pile of pillows, turning his head from side to side in a futile attempt to cut off the massive headache he could already feel forming. Fifteen minutes later he was still awake, his head throbbing full force. Eli sighed in a drawn-out curse, grinding the heels of his palms deep into his eye sockets.

It was going to be a long night.