“We’ll never get this to stick,” Whitefall said, moving his hands down to his mouth as he considered his options. “An overheard confession’s not enough on its own, and he’s not going to repeat it.”
“Of course he will,” Sara said. “This is Etmon Banage. The man can’t lie to save his life, or anyone else’s. Pull him out and ask him openly whom he supports, the Council or the Empress, and then sit back while he digs his own grave.”
Whitefall gave her a long-suffering look. “Isn’t this a little much, Sara? The man is still your husband.”
Sara sniffed. “I loved Banage when I was young and stupid enough to get caught up in his idealism. But that world never existed, Alber. There’s no place for men like Banage who refuse to admit that there is no absolute right or wrong, that everything is relative, even morality. Never was. I won’t see my life’s work stomped under just to keep his hands clean.”
She reached out and snatched the Relay point off the table, sliding the blue marble into her pocket as she stood. “We need those wizards if we’re going to survive, Alber. I’ve given you your linchpin. All you have to do is pull it.”
Whitefall turned and stared unhappily into the cold, empty fireplace. “Fine,” he said quietly. “Send word to Myron.”
Sara nodded and marched out of the room. Sparrow fell in silently beside her, giving Whitefall a sickening smile as he closed the door behind his mistress. As their footsteps faded down the long hall, Whitefall stood and walked to the window, opening the glass pane to let the night wind clear out the stinking pipe smoke. As he stared down at his brightly lit city, the streets packed and humming with life, he wondered, not for the first time, who really ran the Council of Thrones.
“That was impressively ruthless,” Sparrow said as they walked through the dark, empty halls of the Citadel. “Even for you. Good to know the enormous risk I took planting that Relay point paid out.”
Sara arched an eyebrow. “Enormous risk?”
“Have you seen the dog she rides?” Sparrow shuddered. “I could have lost a hand. Or more.”
“Your sacrifice wouldn’t have been in vain,” Sara said as they started down the stairs to her underground workshop. “I couldn’t have asked for a better confession. I always knew something changed in him the night he lost his spirits, but I didn’t know he’d gone that far.”
“Well,” Sparrow said, smiling slyly. “He certainly had enough to say about you.”
Sara shrugged. “No worse than he’s said to my face.”
“I never could understand what you saw in him.”
“He was uncompromising,” Sara said. “I felt like a better person when I was around him, like I was one of the good guys. But he had no vision, no reach. He never understood that some of us can’t be happy just maintaining the status quo. It didn’t matter what miracles I showed him, he always found some fault.” She shook her head. “Uncompromising men are easy to admire, but they’re impossible to live with.”
“I can imagine,” Sparrow said as they reached the foot of the stairs. “Still, congratulations. You won!”
“Hardly a glorious victory,” Sara said, walking between the suspended Relay tanks toward the brightly lit platform at the center of the enormous cavern. “I’d always hoped that Etmon would see things my way someday, understand the great work I’m doing.” She heaved an enormous, smoky sigh. “Considering our history, I suppose it’s only fitting that I be the one to deal the breaking blow.”
“How do you mean to do that, by the way?” Sparrow said. “He’s locked himself up quite nicely, and I don’t think he’s going to come out to talk to you.”
“The Spirit Court’s Tower is still only stone,” Sara said with a smile. “And I’ve been needing something to test our new weapon on.”
“It’s done, then?” Sparrow said.
“Done enough,” Sara said, sticking her pipe into her mouth. “Words won’t do it justice, though. You’ll just have to wait for tomorrow.”
Sparrow smiled a wide, toothy smile. “And see the haughty Spiritualists brought low? I can’t wait.”
“I’m sure,” Sara said distractedly. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
Sparrow fell in behind her as she marched out onto the platform around the enormous tank that served as her headquarters and began shouting for her assistants.
CHAPTER
16
Josef woke with a snort, hands going instantly to his blades. He looked around a moment in groggy confusion, grinding his teeth as the world came together. It had happened again. He was still on the couch where he’d sat down to wait for Adela, only now it was morning. But the sunlight streaming through the window was still more white than yellow. Early morning, then. That was better than yesterday.
He looked around for Nico and found her sitting behind the couch, wrapped in her coat with her back resting against his through the wooden frame, sound asleep. Josef smiled. Catching Nico asleep was rare. Then his smile fell. Rare, and a sign of something very wrong.
A knock sounded at the door, and Nico’s eyes popped open. She saw him at once and rolled to her feet, a confused and slightly alarmed look on her pale face. Josef put up his hand, motioning her to keep out of sight. She nodded and shrank back behind the couch. The knock sounded again, soft but urgent. Josef pulled his shirt straight and started for the door, but whoever was knocking must have grown impatient. Before Josef had gone two steps, the lock rattled. The door opened with a click and Eli stepped in, palming his lock pick with a hurried glance over his shoulder.
“Good,” he said, closing the door behind him. “You’re up. We have a problem.”
“We have several,” Josef said as Nico stood up from behind the couch. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Eli said. “But word is the queen’s up and on the warpath. I’m surprised she hasn’t—”
A banging on the door cut him off, and the three of them froze. Josef was the first to recover. He caught Nico’s eyes and glanced at the corner. She nodded and slid sideways, fading into the small shadow behind the fireplace. When she was gone, Josef walked to the door. He motioned for Eli to get behind him before lifting the latch.
A page stood in the hallway, his hand raised to knock again. He was flanked on both sides by stern, armored guardsmen and looking decidedly unhappy about it.
“My lord prince,” the page said, recovering from his aborted knock with impressive speed. “Your royal mother requests your presence.”
Josef frowned. “Now?”
“Now would be good,” the man said.
Josef shook his head and turned back to the room, leaving the door open. He walked to the corner and grabbed the Heart. When it was securely on his back, he walked back to the door. Eli stepped into place beside him, ready to go.
The servant glanced nervously from Josef to Eli. “My lord,” he started. “Your mother specifically asked —”
“My adviser comes with me,” Josef said, stalking into the hall.
Eli gave the servant a winning smile as he followed Josef out the door. The guards fell in around them, setting the pace as they walked up the stairs toward the royal suite.
A larger than usual squad of guards lined the gallery leading up to his mother’s door, all of them at full attention. Josef pushed his way through, opening his mother’s door with a rough jerk.
The queen was waiting for them. She was dressed and sitting on her chair at the center of the raised platform at the far end of the room, Lenette at her side, as always. There were several nobles in the room as well, all of whom Josef knew he should probably recognize. But he’d never been good with remembering court officials, even back when he was actually trying, so he dismissed them and focused on his mother. Queen Theresa looked more tired than ever. Her papery skin was almost gray against the harsh black of her dress and veil, but her eyes were as sharp as knives, and they pinned Josef to the floor.
“Where were you last night?” she asked the second the door closed behind Eli.
