The Complete Madion War Trilogy

by S. Usher Evans

  "I do trust you," I said. "But...I'm not a child, Kader. I can handle this. I want to meet with the baker. I want to be useful."

  He was silent for a while, and I was almost convinced he was going to deny my request, but he grunted and shook his head. "Fine. Let me watch him a bit more, make sure there's nothing untoward about this, and..." He heaved a sigh. "You can meet with the baker."

  I tried not to look too excited.

  Galian

  It had been nearly two weeks since I'd spoken to Olivia, and there'd been zero response from her. I'd become adept at avoiding my mother so I wouldn't have to give her a progress report, but I was coming up on a few days off, and I couldn't avoid her forever.

  I sat in the lobby of the hospital at the end of a particularly late shift, considering what other options I had with Olivia. The black car rolled to a stop, and Johar came inside to escort me out, just in case. There weren't many photographers; they never liked to hang around past dark, but I got a few flashes as we crossed the short distance to the car. Johar opened the door, and I climbed inside, releasing a loud sigh of relief to be off my feet and going home.

  "Good day at work, sweetie?"

  "Ah, shit," I crowed, opening an eye.

  "Is that any way to greet your brother?" Rhys asked, throwing a bag at me. "Brought you dinner, too. Your favorite."

  I glanced inside the bag, already smelling the burger and fries. Without waiting, I shoveled them into my mouth, grunting my thanks at him as I put my feet up on the seat next to him.

  "Well, with all your wooing of Olivia Collins, I thought you might be famished." He pulled out a tabloid magazine and showed me the front cover—a photo of me walking into Collins Shipbuilding, along with the words 'Lover's Quarrel: Are the Prince and the Heiress Through?'

  "Oh, that's so sad," I said with mock distress. "I really wanted them to work things out."

  "So the meeting went that well, huh?"

  I glowered. "Don't ask."

  "I thought she was falling over you?"

  "She was, before I royally screwed it up. Now she knows she's got the upper hand. So she's letting me dangle." I grunted. "Theo doesn't pull this shit. She says what she means and—"

  "And you aren't trying to marry Collins, remember?" Rhys said. "So don't torture yourself by comparing the two of them. Did you try begging for forgiveness?"

  I nodded. "She basically kicked me out of her office."

  "Ah. Sucks, doesn't it?" Rhys said with a laugh. "Bet you've never had a woman refuse you before, huh?"

  "I'll have you know Theo threatened to shove a stick up my...manhood once."

  "Oh, is that why you're so fond of her?"

  I ignored him and took a huge bite of the burger. "I mean, I don't know what to do. I went to her office, I asked for her forgiveness. She won't give it. Can I just give up now?"

  "Do you think Theo's given up yet?" Rhys asked.

  I tried to say, "Apples to oranges," but my mouth was too full of food.

  "Chew, Gally, then talk," Rhys said, procuring a small envelope from his pocket. "As luck would have it, I might have a way for you to get into Olivia's good graces again. We just received this invite from her mother's organization—apparently, they won't talk to us, but they'll take our money. She's hosting an auction to raise money for the victims of the Duran flood."

  I stopped chewing. "But didn't Grieg say he didn't want to help them?"

  "The Kylaen treasury, officially, will not send aid to the city of Duran, yes," Rhys said, passing the invite between his fingers. "But the queen has a rather large art collection. And she's able to donate whatever the hell she wants to whomever the hell she wants without going through the royal treasury."

  "Yeah, but," I said, remembering Martin, "what about the consequences? Won't Grieg be pissed? Won't he do something?"

  "He might, but we're willing to bet he's got other things on his plate right now," Rhys said, growing a bit more somber. "What those things are, we have no idea."

  The food in my mouth suddenly tasted bland and I swallowed hard. "Really?"

  "Really," Rhys said with a nod. "He's been taking meetings with some of the more hawkish ministers lately, and that worries me. But with Kader gone to Rave and Johar tasked to the barethium producers, we can't seem to get information about it." He paused and tapped the invitation again. "Which is the other reason you're going to this party."

  My pulse skipped. "You want me to get information?"

  "I want you to go be your charming self, and if you happen to overhear anything about what Father's got cooking, you'll report it. But don't go inviting yourself into conversations, and don't go announcing that's what you're after."

  I nodded, mouth too full to argue.

  "Tonight, and every night until the auction, you and I are going to be reviewing each of the ministers who might show up at this thing," he continued. "You'll be educated enough to know what you're listening for, but not so much that you'll give yourself away."

  "After all, you're an idiot to these people," Johar piped up from the front seat.

  "An idiot with a medical degree," I countered.

  She caught my eye in the rearview mirror. "An idiot just the same."

  Theo

  The day I was to meet with Odolf the baker, Kader had me up before dawn. We would wait out the morning in a house across the street to wait for the streets to clear. It was a risk to have me out in broad daylight, but Kader seemed confident we could avoid being spotted.

  I felt like I hadn't smelled fresh air in years, and even the stink of hot trash that permeated the city didn't bother me. Even Kader seemed in a better mood, taking advantage of the empty streets to coach me on what we needed to say to Odolf.

  "The good news is you won't be lying—too much," he said, his voice low. "We are here to offer money, we are here to get Bayard out of power and replace him with someone who's a bit less willing to sacrifice his own people. But the origin of the money is where it gets tricky. So, if possible, gloss over that."

  "A wealthy Jervanian backer who wants to remain anonymous," I recited.

  "And that sounds absolutely rehearsed," Kader said with a smile. "Try...the backer doesn't wish to be identified. Which is also a truth, and will flow easier off your tongue."

  I nodded and tried to ignore the butterflies ricocheting off the walls of my stomach. I was as nervous as when I'd given a speech to the international community, but then I'd also had the benefit of Emilie working with me for weeks. Now, I was walking into this situation with only a day and a few tips. Unprepared was an understatement.

  As the sun broke over the city, Kader and I arrived at our destination—only a few blocks away from Platcha, the presidential mansion, and the government offices where I used to spend most of my time. My government car had driven down this street hundreds of times, although I'd never left the offices to get pastries. Odolf really was playing a dangerous game if he was within spitting distance of those who sought to quash the rebellion.

  "C'mon," Kader said, beckoning me down an alley overflowing with trash.

  A gray-haired woman stood in the doorway of one of the buildings, nodding her greeting to us as we approached. "Kader."

  "Gibbs," Kader replied. "Any news from last night?"

  "No one's come or gone," she said. "Though I can't be sure that the flour delivery man isn't somehow connected. Thought I saw them throwing the rebel sign to each other, but could've been a trick of the light."

  "What's the rebel sign?" I asked Kader.

  He tapped a closed fist to his chest. "Once for Rave." Two more taps with two fingers extended. "Twice for traitors."

  Even in the sweltering heat, I shivered.

  We bade farewell to Gibbs, who was going to a safe house to sleep before returning to provide cover for our meeting, and Kader led me up a back stairwell into a storeroom filled with boxes and smelling of leather. The storeroom belonged to a shoemaker, who, like most of Veres, had escaped the stifling heat for cool
er climates. The room overlooked the front door of the bakery across the street.

  "I'm going to scout the area," Kader said. "If anyone comes in, hide."

  I nodded and leaned my elbows against the window pane, watching the city come to life. As the sun grew brighter, the streets became more populated, and I recognized a few people from my time at the public relations office. What did they think of me now? Did they know what Bayard had done with me, or, like the rest of Rave, did they think I'd simply bowed out from a public life?

  Around midday, Kader returned, sweating and red-faced, with Gibbs in tow. He handed me a bottle of water before guzzling down his own. "It's too damned hot in your country."

  "Sorry," I said, sipping on the water. "Everything clear?"

  "As far as I can tell," Kader said. "But I did hear some interesting chatter about Bayard today. Gibbs says the people are getting restless, and there've been a few riots in the south end of the country. Apparently, he's promised money to a lot of people, and the Raven treasury hasn't had the money to give."

  "Because he was building a secret weapon in Malaske?"

  "That, and he'd been counting on aid from Jervan and Herin. Thanks to Grieg's diplomatic freeze, they're starting to distance themselves from Rave, so the money has been dwindling."

  "They probably aren't too happy with Rave either, considering all their money ended up at the bottom of the Madion Sea," I added.

  "That too," Kader said. "So the good news is, once Anson gets his footing, he might not have to work very hard to win over the populace. They seem primed for a change in leadership. Or a change, anyway."

  He left unsaid the rest of our problems: even if we put Anson in power, Grieg would still be on the throne in Kylae. But that, as he said, was a problem for Korina and Galian.

  I glanced at the sky and cursed. I hadn't even thought about Galian in days. I tried not to dwell on what that might mean.

  Kader, on the other hand, had turned to Gibbs, and they were soon discussing contingency plans, escape routes, and all the different ways this meeting could go horribly, horribly wrong. Not wanting to worry myself unnecessarily, I stood and walked to the other end of the storeroom, running my own scenarios of what Odolf could ask me, and how I might respond without ruining our entire operation.

  "You're going to do fine," Kader said, meeting me on the other end of the room. He handed me a pair of sunglasses and a hat. "Just relax. Odolf will know if you're nervous."

  I stopped fidgeting and yanked the hat onto my head. "I think this is more stressful than delivering that speech."

  "You only think it is because Galian's not here to help you clear your head...and other things."

  "Kader!" I gasped, glancing to see if Gibbs had heard.

  But his joke had worked, and some of my nerves dissipated as he continued poking fun at me and my amichai and our short-but-steamy meeting at a hotel in Jervan. He told me to stay in the alley as he strode onto the street, casually scanning the road for anyone who might be interested. But the sun was broiling the city, and no one was outside if they could help it.

  Kader whistled and looked to the sky, the signal that I was to join him. Forcing my shoulders into a slouch and my gaze at the ground, I walked as casually as I could to meet him. He tossed his arm around my shoulder and we completed the journey across the street with little fanfare.

  The sign in the window indicated the bakery was closed, but the door was unlocked when Kader turned the handle. He walked inside first, then nodded for me to join him.

  Inside the bakery, the scent of yeast and sugar made my stomach rumble. Loaves of bread lined the back wall, and delicate, fluffy pastries sat cooling in a glass case. There was no one at the front, although sounds of activity came from the backroom. The curtains hanging from the doorframe rustled, and a man limped out. He was older, thick and short, with gray hair that stuck up around his head.

  He surveyed me suspiciously, and shuffled from behind his display. The source of his limp was a wooden leg. It had probably saved his life as a young man, ending his flying career. Most likely, he'd been assigned to the kitchen until his conscription was complete. I tried to place his age—maybe fifty, which meant he'd been out of the military for twenty or so years.

  "Take off them sunglasses," he demanded.

  I looked at Kader, who glanced around the shop once more before nodding to me. My heart skipped a beat as I pulled them off, revealing my face.

  Odolf gave me the once-over and nodded. "Yeah, he said you might be calling after a while."

  "Who did?" I asked.

  "Anson," Odolf replied, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

  "Can you arrange a meeting?" I asked, stepping forward. A stern glance from Kader reminded me to dial back my excitement a little.

  Odolf smirked. "Not just yet. I need time to talk to some people. To be honest, I wasn't completely sure you'd be affiliated with this esmaill here—"

  "Come on," I said, glancing at Kader, who either didn't know to flinch at the slur, or didn't care to. "There's no need to call him that."

  "He's got some Kylaen pretty close to the surface," Odolf said, eyeing him. "Makes me wonder who you're getting this money from."

  "A wealthy Jervanian businessman," I said, hoping it didn't sound forced. I'd meant to say that my backer didn't want to be identified, but the other had come out before I could stop it. "He's interested in facilitating peace between Kylae and Rave—"

  The baker choked then howled with laughter. I resisted the urge to look at Kader, as that might betray my nerves.

  "What business does Jervan have in the squabbles of Kylae and Rave?" Odolf asked.

  "War is bad for business," I said with a shrug.

  "Then he needs to get into a better business." He chuckled again, but then heaved a breath. "Fine. Next time I speak with my...person, I'll try to arrange a meeting." He paused. "Come back next week and I may have news."

  Although I wanted to argue, to get more information about who, where, and why, I nodded. Kader handed the man a fat wad of banknotes—nearly half of what we'd come with—and shook his hand.

  Without another word, I followed Kader out of the shop, hoping we hadn't just pissed away more of our time and chances.

  SIX

  Galian

  I never knew just how woefully uninformed I was about my nation's leadership until I began meeting with Rhys after my shifts to learn which ministers did what and which side they were on. As king, my father was the head of government, but there were twelve ministers who comprised his secondary leadership—home, defense, business development, treasury, health, and justice, and six for the main provinces of Kylae. They were evenly split on their views of the war—the six ministers Rhys had dubbed "doves" thought independent Rave and peace was the best option, while the six "hawks" thought we should increase our bombing to retake the colony.

  As Rhys quizzed me on each of them, I felt like I was back in military strategy class. Only this time, Rhys was doing the teaching and Digory wasn't throwing spitballs at the back of my head.

  "Focus, Gally," Rhys said, handing me a photo of a fierce-looking woman with a hawkish nose and gray hair. "Who's that?"

  "Minister Cavillion, Trade and Business Affairs."

  "No, Defense," he said, snatching the photo away from me. "You don't remember meeting her at your commissioning ceremony?"

  I'd been hungover during my ceremony, trying to drink away the reality of going to war. "Sure."

  "And is she hawk or dove?"

  That was easy. "Hawk."

  "Right," Rhys said, returning to his photos. "Who's this?"

  "Minister..." I drew a blank. "But he's in charge of Health, I know that. I see his photo every morning when I go to work."

  "Maybe pay attention to the placard under his name," Rhys said. "Biasak."

  "Biasak, yeah, I knew that." I didn't know that, but considering I'd been on my feet all day, my mind on patients, it was a miracle I was getting even some of them right
.

  "And Biasak is—"

  "Dove."

  "No, Hawk."

  "Really?" I said, tilting my head. "You're telling me the head of our health services wants to continue war with Rave?"

  "The refugees in the slums use the health services," Rhys said. "They don't pay taxes, ergo, he's losing money for every little dark-skinned child you put a bandage on."

  "Fine, hawk. But when you're king, I hope you replace him with someone who has a soul," I said, glaring at the photo still in his hand.

  "That's a long way off," Rhys muttered. He picked up another photo. "Who's this?"

  "Minister...Kopec from the Benter province?"

  Rhys nodded and looked at the card. "You should know, you slept with his daughter."

  I flushed and grabbed the card, scanning the man's face. "I don't remember."

  "You didn't sleep with him, you slept with his daughter."

  "And...why is that memorable?"

  Rhys sighed and took the photo back, adding it into the deck. "She was sixteen."

  "And?"

  "You were twenty-two."

  "Ah." I shrugged. "Not terrible. Theo's twenty."

  "Theo's ninety in Raven years," Rhys said, pulling out another photo. "Who's this?"

  "Rhys, is this really important?" I asked. "I mean, it's an art auction. I doubt Minister Biasak is going to be hobnobbing with socialites."

  "You'd be surprised," Rhys said, grabbing a new set of cards. "Once we get the ministers right, we'll move onto their spouses. Then, where applicable, their lovers."

  "I can't look at any more photos tonight," I said, leaning back into the chair. "Let's study something else."

  Rhys didn't miss a beat. "If you happen to meet with a hawkish minister, what are the two things you want to convince them of?"

  I watched the ceiling. "One, it's important that the barethium miners work with Collins on his new shipbuilding line. Two, it's important that they press Father to lift the trade embargo with Jervan."