room.
The top of the tower was unlike the other floors. Instead of smaller partitions, it was one open room, a great loft with a high ceiling going all the way up to the tower’s pointed peak. There were tables here, including a large desk at the tower’s center, all done in the same style as the rest of the tower’s furnishings. But where the other floors were dark and sheltered by the tower’s thick walls, this room was bright with sunlight streaming in through enormous, panoramic windows that ringed the room on all sides. The windows were set with thick glass, high-quality stuff, showing the view without so much as a single distorting wobble. And what a view it was. Josef could see the entire sweep of the bay below, the wide ocean spread out in front of him, the tops of the high cliffs to his right and left, and the eastern slums behind him running almost all the way to the weathered walls of the palace at the peak of the mountain.
Finley was standing beside the window that looked due east, talking into his palm while an older man in somber civilian clothes stood beside him, watching intently. He glanced at Josef as the prince entered, and then turned away, continuing his low speech into his palm where Josef couldn’t see him. Josef glowered at that, but before he could say anything, Finley finished speaking and held out his hand to the man beside him. The older man moved forward, taking what looked like a small, blue marble from Finley and placing it carefully into a padded box.
The man bowed slightly to the duke and, holding the box in both hands, walked to the door. He did not bow to Josef, just slid by him and started down the stairs. Josef ignored the insult, focusing instead on his cousin and, so far as Josef could tell, greatest enemy in Osera.
“Ah,” Finley said, turning at last to Josef. “The prince graces me with his presence.”
Josef hooked his thumbs into his sword belt. “What do you want?”
Finley blithely ignored him. “I was just reporting our latest bit of bad luck to the Whitefall running the Council’s forces, Lord Myron.” He crossed the room as he spoke, stopping in front of a small wooden cabinet set between the windows. He unlocked the door with a key from his pocket. Inside was a cut-glass bottle filled with amber liquid. Finley took it out with loving hands, smiling at Josef over the glass stopper. “Would you like a drink?”
“No,” Josef said. “What are you doing out here with the Relay point? It’s supposed to be kept in the palace for the queen’s use only.”
“The first one is,” Finley said, reaching back into the cabinet for a crystal tumbler. “That was our second point, provided for this watchtower.”
“Osera has two Relay points?” Josef scoffed. “Since when? I thought they were incredibly rare.”
“They are,” Finley said, filling his glass halfway. “But considering how this tower will be the first to spot the Empress’s fleet, I convinced the Council to give us another.”
Josef narrowed his eyes. “So what were you relaying just now?”
“That,” the duke said, tipping his glass toward the southern window.
Josef turned skeptically. He couldn’t see much because of the cliffs, but he could see what looked like a plume of black smoke billowing up from somewhere down the coast.
Josef glanced back at the duke. “What’s that?”
“Our clingfire depot,” the duke said. “Or, rather, it was.”
Josef swallowed. Clingfire was an old Oseran secret, a blend of pitch and sticky oil that clung to wood and burned even when wet. It had been invented so that Oseran pirates on their fast, narrow ships could take down larger freighters. It was also the only way the Oseran navy had been able to fight the Empress’s palace ships.
“What happened?”
“We’re not sure,” Finley said, his voice grave. “The whole depot went up sometime early this morning. It’s been burning for nearly twelve hours already, and since we had almost five tons of clingfire ready for the Empress’s assault, it will likely burn another twelve.”
“Five tons?” Josef took a step back. He’d never heard of so much clingfire in one place.
“At least,” Finley said. “Osera’s not the little fishing village you left, Thereson. My factories have been producing clingfire day and night on the queen’s order since word came that the Empress was on the move. I’d ordered it stored on one of the uninhabited southern islands for safety purposes, and good thing too. If we’d kept it in the city, the whole island would be burning by now.”
Josef glanced again at the column of smoke. “You think it was arson?”
“Arson or carelessness,” the duke said, sipping his drink. “Your wife’s investigating as we speak, so I suppose we’ll know soon enough. I may not like Adela, but even I can admit she’s good at what she does.” He left the words hanging, watching Josef over the rim of his glass.
Josef got the point well enough. “Better than me,” he finished.
“Well,” the duke said. “You ran away, so I guess we’ll never know what could have been.”
Josef barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “I’ve got better things to do today than listen to you gripe, Finley,” he said. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’ll be on my way.”
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Josef Liechten?” Finley said, setting his drink down on the window ledge with a clink. “Still unable to even play at manners.”
“I don’t play at anything,” Josef said. “Get on with it.”
The corner of the duke’s mouth twitched. “Very well,” he said. “I called you out here because I would like to propose an arrangement. These last two days have been very hard on you, haven’t they, prince? You’ve never bothered to hide how much you hate being in your own country. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still around.”
Josef’s glower deepened, and the duke began to grin. “I can see I’m taxing your miniscule patience, so I’ll get straight to the point. I want you to leave.”
“I know that,” Josef growled.
“No,” the duke said. “I mean I want you to vanish. Go. Crawl back to whatever miserable, violent life you enjoyed before Theresa got this fool idea of grandchildren.”
Josef bared his teeth. “If this is about the damn succession—”
“The succession does not concern me,” the duke said. “Whatever hopes your mother holds, the truth is that my line will inherit the Throne of Iron Lions. Ancient as the blood of the Eisenlowe is, Osera is a land ruled by the strong, not by unborn children.”
“And you would be that strength?”
“Of course,” the duke answered. “I’ve been leading Osera since your mother first fell ill years ago. It was my money and my sway that fortified this bay. My pull with the Council that got us two Relay points, my shipyards that built a fleet of runners, and my factories that produced the five tons of clingfire it’s going to take to sink an armada of palace ships.”
Josef cocked his head toward the plume of smoke. “You mean the five tons that’s burning right now?”
“A minor setback,” the duke snapped. “The Empress won’t be here for another month and a half. That’s more than enough time to rebuild our supplies and secure my rule.”
“Your rule?” Josef said, scowling. “I hate to disappoint you, Finley, but last I checked, my mother was still alive.”
“Not for much longer,” the duke said, smiling. “For all your faults, Thereson, you’re a loving son, but you’re kidding yourself if you actually believe our dear queen will be alive to lead Osera to another victory over the Empress.”
“Shut your mouth, Finley,” Josef said, taking a menacing step forward. “Or I will shut it for you.”
Finley rolled his eyes. “Spare me the bravado. Believe it or not, my boy, I’m actually on your side. You don’t want to be here, and I don’t want you here either, so why shouldn’t we work together to get you out?”
“Because I’m not going,” Josef said. “I made a promise to my mother, and I mean to keep it.”
“How novel of you,” Duke Finley said, grabbing his drink again. He downed the rest of the glass in one swallow, keeping his eyes on Josef the whole time. “Tell me, Thereson,” he said when he’d finished. “Are you trying to be as difficult as possible, or it is your natural state?”
“What do you care, anyway?” Josef yelled. “You just said you’re not worried about the succession. Shouldn’t you be off giving orders and being kingly? Why are you wasting time with me?”
“Because you are in my way,” Finley yelled back, slamming his glass on the stone so hard it cracked. “You are a millstone around this country’s neck, Josef Liechten. You always were, what with your moods and your stubbornness. But just when the people were learning to love you for your mother’s sake, you run away to become
