Cantic scowled and tossed back the last of her drink. Luca caught the general’s glance to Gillett behind her.
“One last thing, and then I’ll excuse myself.” The general beckoned sharply with one hand, and the Sand who had been clinging desperately, awkwardly to the walls of the sitting room strode over. “Your Highness, allow me to present Lieutenant Touraine of the Balladairan Colonial Brigade, Rose Company, Gold Squad.”
The lieutenant was a little shorter than Luca but broader. Handsome, with a hard jawline and striking, dark brown eyes. She bowed deeply.
“Your Highness, I’m at your service.” Softer spoken now.
“Lieutenant.” Luca returned the bow with a gracious nod. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. If there is a boon I can grant you, please ask.”
“Always appear generous,” Jean Yverte wrote in his aptly titled The Rule of Rule. Small gifts could breed great loyalty.
The soldier bowed again. “It’s honor enough to serve the crown, Your Highness.”
The general bowed stiffly to Luca and barely bent her neck to Cheminade. “Your Highness. Lord Governor. We thank you for your hospitality.”
Cheminade watched the two soldiers walk away, intrigue playing in her eyes.
“What is it?” Luca asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Cheminade smiled mischievously at Luca. “I was just thinking about how useful it would be to have a conscript we could send as an envoy of sorts to the rebels. The general doesn’t like to relinquish control of her troops, but we are just as much a part of the empire as she is.”
Luca smiled back. She was beginning to like this woman’s mischievous eccentricity. It was looser than the rigid Balladairan court. “Isn’t that what ambassadors are for?”
“Indeed. I just find that the Qazāli don’t trust people who look like us as much. Too many like a certain comte. Plus, she’s a trained soldier.” Cheminade shrugged. “Anylight, plenty of time to talk about that later. Please, Your Highness. Make yourself at home.”
For the rest of the evening, nobles and merchants presented themselves to her. Though she waited all night for the chance to meet Cheminade’s husband, she only received Cheminade’s apology.
“Nas is… distressed, Your Highness.” The other woman looked away, up toward the bedrooms. Concern was plain on her open face. “Perhaps another time. A more private dinner. It would be my honor to host you again, for dinner or for any questions. Nothing is too silly or uncivilized for me. I’m also looking forward to your welcome ball.”
A surprising warmth spread through her, and not just because Cheminade had hinted that she was interested in talking about Shālan magic. She finally had a peer. Someone with the same curiosities, who wouldn’t make Luca feel ashamed of them, or herself.
Less than one full day in Qazāl, and she had an ally.
By the time she returned to her own sitting room, however, she had already begun second-guessing her interpretations.
“Gil. Do they all think I’m a fool?” Luca asked over her shoulder.
She stood at the wide window that overlooked the streets of the Quartier. The town houses in the Balladairan district were small, and hers was no exception. It was made of stone from Beau-Sang’s quarry, with a door of imported lumber. There was little to recommend it from the outside. No garden, no escape from the sky-falling heat, not even an awning or umbrella. It sat, instead, in a patch of colorless dirt; it was shuttered tight against the warmth. It was a young construction, though, barely a decade old, compared to homes built by the first Balladairans to delve roots into the colony. It had all the modern flourishes one could expect so far from home.
Still, she found it cozy rather than cramped. She kept a small, trusted staff and had a room for her office with a desk and most of her books. That was all she really needed.
That, and the confidence of the local ministers.
Luca didn’t have to turn around to see Gil’s flat stare of disapproval.
“Take Cheminade. Is she just humoring me? Playing on my enthusiasms? What does she want?”
The captain of her guard, her chief advisor, her second father joined her at the window. His boots were quiet on the thick carpet. He clasped his hands behind his back under his gold cloak. Gil had been King Roland’s guard captain and lover until the Withering Death took the king and queen. Gil hadn’t left her side since.
A smile broke his weathered face into even more lines. “I think Governor Cheminade is smitten with you. I’m sure it’s been a while since she had another scholar of her caliber to talk to.”
“You know her?”
“Not well. Mostly I remember Roland muttering arguments as they wrote back and forth about the colonies.”
“And Cantic? I know she’s your friend. I saw that look she gave you.” Her voice went sharp, and she side-eyed Gil. The general’s “recommendations” for her safety still needled her.
“She’s one of the crown’s most loyal and competent officers, Luca. And sky above, she’s not wrong. The rebels tried to kill you today. You need to stay safe.”
“Which crown is she loyal to?” Luca turned to meet Gil’s eyes.
He huffed into his thick gray mustache. “There’s only one crown.”
Luca shook her head, sighing heavily. “Not right now. There’s the legal, inherited claim, and there’s the one sitting on the actual seat. Right now, we’re all pretending it’s all right and that we’ll reconcile the two into one, but—be honest, Gil.
“If I don’t solve the problem here, do you think Nicolas will be so eager to move his ass? If I don’t fix Qazāl, we’ll have a succession trial at best. I know how that will go. We’re not the first royal family to have a contested succession. Not even the first Anciers.” Luca snorted and gestured out the window. “And all
