“And of course, the Prix de Guerre is an armée ship,” Camreon says. “The civilians won’t know it’s so ill-equipped for passengers. At least, not until they’re aboard.”
“The rest of the armée must know,” I say. “Why would they go along with it?”
“They’re used to following orders.” My brother’s voice precedes him up the ladder; he might be unkillable, but he isn’t invincible, and he’s still moving slowly after the battle at the valley. “No matter how terrible those orders are.”
Hauling himself halfway into the room, he gives me a twisted smile as he sits on the edge of the hatch, one leg dangling through the opening. Another side effect of my bringing him back is his compulsion to obey any order I give him, in a way he never had to when he was in the armée. As such, I’m careful not to give commands—I don’t even like to contradict him.
“Fontaine’s own orders made reference to Le Roi Fou sending supplies to stock the Prix de Guerre,” Camreon says, but Theodora shakes her head.
“I doubt it’s true,” she says. “Even before the battle at the temple, my uncle was loath to spend more money on Chakrana. Besides, if he was sending supplies, why not send passenger ships?”
“Fontaine apparently felt the same,” Camreon says. “Partially because he had come from Aquitan so recently. Apparently he was among the last recruits bound for Chakrana.”
“I can fetch a bucket if we want to send him back,” Akra says.
Leo looks at him, aghast. “We can’t let the Prix de Guerre sail.”
“Between the decree from the King of Chakrana and orders from the general d’armée, we don’t have a choice,” Akra says. “Unless you come up with the manpower to defeat the armée or take the throne.”
“The manpower is already there,” Camreon says slowly. “All we have to do is stop it from being loaded aboard the Prix de Guerre.”
Akra’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think the Aquitans will join the rebellion?”
“Some of us already have,” Theodora says pointedly, but he waves the claim away.
“You knew Cam for years before you switched sides,” Akra says. “The rest of the Aquitans think he’s either a usurper or a murderer.”
“They might change their minds if we save their lives,” Camreon replies. “But we don’t have much time. The Prix de Guerre leaves in three days.”
“What about the Audrinnes?” I say then.
Camreon raises an eyebrow. “The what?”
“The Audrinnes.” I stand, going to the window as Miu swirls around my feet, annoyed at losing access to my lap. Outside, the setting sun turns the sky bloodred; the river shimmers at the edge of the paddies, winding its way south to the sugar fields. “They own the plantation where Fontaine found Le Trépas’s message. We should check there first. If we can catch the monk, there’s no need to fight our way through Nokhor Khat.”
“How so?” Theodora says, and I turn back, the excitement building in my chest.
“If Le Trépas dies, so do his minions,” I say. “The Boy King and the general, not to mention any other revenants he’s left in his wake. With the throne empty and the armée leaderless, you and Cam are clear to step into the breach and figure out what to do with the Aquitan civilians.” I take a breath—the words are beginning to fall over one another. Then I look at Camreon askance. “Why are you shaking your head?”
“You assume Le Trépas will be easy to find,” Cam says. “But why would he linger at the plantation?”
“What if he left clues behind?” I insist. “More messages?”
“You mean traps?” Camreon makes a face. “I don’t want to find out.”
“If I could get hold of one of his revenants, I could ask it where he’s hiding!”
“Even if you could find him, how do you plan to kill him?” Akra adds. “He survived a fall from midair. I don’t think a bullet will do the trick.”
Frustrated, I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut, but when I do, I see the monk’s smile as he falls: down, down, down. Shaking it off, I turn back to my brother. “I don’t know how he did it,” I say. “But we’ll never find out if we don’t go after him.”
“We will,” Camreon says, and my heart leaps—too soon. “But not yet.”
“When?”
“When you’re in better shape to face him,” he replies, and the answer takes me aback.
“I told you, I’m fine—”
“No, you aren’t,” Camreon says, and his tone has that particular crispness it always has when he is dealing with something unpleasant. “You’re combative. Impulsive. Distracted. Obsessed. You’re in the grip of your malheur, and it’s not safe to—”
“What do you know about my malheur?” I roar, and in the sudden silence, I feel everyone staring. Suddenly I see myself through his eyes: shouting, furious, impatient, with the blood only just washed from my hair. Shame dims the fire of my anger, and I stalk toward the hatch. “I need some air.”
“Jetta . . . ,” Leo calls after me, but I do not wait.
“And some space!”
As I hurry down the ladder, their voices drift after me. “I’ve been telling you we need to go to the lytheum mine,” Theodora says.
“It’s in Le Trépas’s territory,” Camreon replies. “And we’re shorthanded as it is—”
I almost shout back up to them that I don’t need the elixir, but even I know that’s a lie. I’m only tired of having to rely on it. Better to learn to live without it than to live in fear of running out.
I’ve done it before, haven’t I? In fact, I survived without the elixir for most of my life. I close my eyes and take a slow breath, then let it out, trying to focus only on the air moving
