The Complete Madion War Trilogy

by S. Usher Evans

"And?"

  I looked at him. "That was two."

  "And it's most important that they put pressure on Father to restart aid to Duran, or else there's no point to any of it."

  "Right." I winced. "That's important."

  "Our goal is to convince the hawks that barethium is no longer a viable resource, and it's in Kylae's best interest to move away from it," Rhys said. "And as for the doves, we have to rebuild the bridge that Father's destroyed. They're the ones advocating for a Kylaen democracy—"

  I sighed. "And so how does any of this bring about an end to the war? Or have anything to do with what Theo's doing over in Veres?"

  "We need to make the ministers happy—all of them—in order to put pressure on Father to negotiate a potential treaty. Our bet is that when Bayard gets deposed, Anson will be a little more amenable to peace, especially when we tell him all his money came from Kylae."

  "So we're going to blackmail him."

  "If needed," Rhys said. "But Mom hopes he'll be willing to negotiate peace."

  "There's really nothing to negotiate, since we've been the aggressors," I said. "Unless it's a 'don't retaliate' treaty."

  "There's a whole country of Theos who've been bred to hate us. Bayard was able to coordinate with Herin and Jervan to build a bomb that could've wiped out a tenth of our population. Any treaty has to put an end to the war—completely." He ran his hands over his face. "But before we get there, we need the ministers to convince Father to seek peace. And before they'll do that, they need to like us. Showing up at this auction, donating a piece, goes a long way to convincing some of them." He smirked. "But you'll still need to use some of that princeling charm that won Theo over."

  I glared at him. "Only Theo gets to call me that."

  "Let's go again, Gally."

  For once in my life, I didn't don my fancy suit with dread. I took extra time adjusting my tie and combing my hair, making sure there was nothing out of place. I wasn't doing it for Olivia; the prospect of doing some actual espionage made me schoolboy giddy.

  When we arrived at the art gallery, the photographers wasted no time crowding the car, and Johar had to be a little rough with them to push them aside. Their questions were centered on Olivia and me, which meant that tomorrow's paper would have something along the lines of Prince Galian Tries in Vain to Win Back Collins.

  Once past the crowd outside, I was refreshed by the cool air in the gallery and the soft murmuring of patrons. There were large paintings propped up on easels, waiters carrying trays of champagne and small bites to eat, and Kylae's richest sons of bitches standing around, writing checks to one another.

  I made a beeline for the piece my mother had donated. I'd memorized everything about it, along with the rest of my studying, so I could help sell it to a high bidder. Knowing it was royally touched should've been enough to raise the price, but seeing as everyone was less enthused with the Helmuths lately, I readied myself to do some charming.

  "Your Highness!" I didn't recognize the woman who'd placed her hand on my shoulder, and thought, perhaps, connecting names from photos was going to be a bit more challenging.

  Luckily for me, she didn't acknowledge my blank stare. "Sire, it's just wonderful to see you out and about again. Your mother tells me the hospital keeps you busy."

  Friends with my mother, check. "The good news is, I'm back on day shifts, so at least I know what day it is!"

  She laughed and patted my arm. Most people who were unfamiliar with me were scared to touch me, but now I was convinced she'd known me since I was a child. "I have to say, I'm impressed with the way you've turned your life around. Melinda often says—"

  Melinda. Girl I slept with. Minister Kopec's wife. Benter province. "And how is Melinda?" I asked, adding a bit more charm to my smile.

  "She's married," Mrs. Kopec replied with more than a little disappointment. "But spends most of her time at the university and not making me any grandchildren."

  "And your husband?"

  She tutted and frowned. "Always in an uproar. This Collins mess is just that—a mess. He told me I wasn't to come to this event, but I told him if he thought I was going to miss this, he had another thing coming!"

  I nodded and handed her another glass of champagne. See, Rhys? I'm listening.

  "All those people in Duran, do you know they're living on the streets? Like those filthy creatures in our slums. Those Ravens don't know any better, but the people in Duran didn't do anything to deserve their hardships."

  I sipped my champagne to hide the response threatening to bubble through my lips.

  "But I'm glad to see you're here, darling," Kopec said, again, patting my shoulder. "You've always had a kind heart, like your mother. Do tell her I said hello. I've had to decline her invites to tea for the past few weeks."

  The tension around her eyes told me that her husband had, at least, gotten his way there. So Mom was also getting frozen out of meetings.

  Interesting.

  "Oh! There's Camil Severino! Come, you must hear all about his latest sculpture. The Collins commissioned it just for this event!"

  Kopec nearly tore my arm out as she dragged me over to an artist, who seemed bored even to be in the same room as I was. After a tedious few minutes as he described his process, I excused myself and went to find another interrogation subject.

  Finding something useful from the mouths of socialites was difficult, but the more I listened, the more I began to see a rift happening in the Kylaen upper class. Kopec was the only wife of a hawkish minister that I'd spoken with and, from what I could tell, the only one there. More than one person commented on how so-and-so's wife was missing from the event, and how, like my mother, they hadn't had tea in weeks.

  And those who were in attendance made no secret of their feelings for the royal family.

  "This is the problem with unchecked power. One man making all the decision ignores the will of the people." Lesli Mansela was the newly appointed governor of the southwestern province, Wanic, and was a year or so younger than myself. Like most of the provincial ministers, she'd been born into her title, and had taken over for her father the year before. She spoke with an eagerness that said she was still trying to gain her footing.

  "Be careful, we're in the presence of royalty." Weatherly Bassett was the husband of the minister from the Shoon province, which lay on the other side of the mountains on the western half of the country. He and his wife were old and feeble, but held onto their provincial position nonetheless. They were doves; if I hadn't already known that, I would've guessed by the way he was warily watching me.

  To put them both at ease, I offered an easy smile and patted Mansela on the shoulder. "I'm not the one you have to worry about. Too busy at the hospital to cause any trouble anymore. I think the tabloids have become tired of me."

  To that, they all laughed and the mood broke, but Mansela kept her eye on me, studying me as if calculating how she could use me to her advantage.

  "And how are things with your father, Your Highness?" she asked, after a brief pause. "He wasn't...displeased that you accepted the invitation?"

  "To be honest, I don't know," I said, sensing my opportunity to find out more information. "With me so busy at the hospital and he doing...well, the business of ruling a country unchecked," I winked at her, but her face didn't budge, "we haven't even sat down for a dinner together in months. You've probably seen more of him than I have."

  Bassett clicked his tongue and kept his gaze on Mansela. "Have you heard anything about this...special project he's been working on?"

  I twitched, and hoped neither of them saw it. The last "special project" I'd known about ended up being a bomb with Theo inside it.

  "Not a word. Not even confirmation that there is one," Mansela said. "I heard Gren mention it might be just a ruse. Grieg's getting old, like his father, and soon Prince Rhys will take his place. Then we'll really have something to worry about."

  I sipped my champagne lightly, hoping to remind her that she was spea
king of my father and brother.

  "Sorry, Your Highness," she said, the tops of her cheeks turning red.

  "Lesli hasn't yet learned the art of keeping her tongue, have you?" Olivia's light voice drew all our attention as she gathered the minister's arm in hers, patting it lightly.

  "Liv, it's a pleasure, as always." There was nothing pleasant about the way Mansela glowered at Olivia, but Olivia ignored it.

  "I just wanted to thank you for your generous donation, Your Highness," Olivia said with a bright smile. "And, of course, for helping to drive up the price. It's our top item, so far."

  "Please. Galian," I said with a wave of my hand.

  Mansela and Bassett took the opportunity to excuse themselves. As they walked away deep in conversation, they threw glances back at the two of us.

  I turned to Olivia, toasting her with my glass. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

  She glanced at my champagne glass. "I hope this won't be a repeat of the last art opening you went to."

  I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "The fact that you don't remember it should be an indication of your sobriety."

  "Ah," I said, waving off the platter of champagne flutes that happened to appear in front of my face. "Well, I hope I wasn't too embarrassing."

  She didn't answer, but took a glass for herself. "So are you here to ask me out again?"

  "No," I said. "I'm simply supporting a good friend of mine."

  "Hm," she said, glancing at the nearby painting. "This is a charity auction, you know. Might be more supportive if you were to bid on a piece."

  I glanced at the oil painting, struck by an image of what Theo might say if she found out I paid so much money for the painted woman, but I gently brushed it away and smiled at Olivia. "You know they don't pay well at the hospital. That price tag is about half my year's salary."

  She nodded and daintily sipped her drink. "And you don't have access to the royal treasury?"

  "My policy disagreements with my father tend to limit my access," I said. "But, maybe a case could be made if there were a good cause."

  She nodded, a mischievous smile curling on her face. "Like, say, the aid to Duran?"

  "Ah-hah." I said with a nod. "So we're not dancing around that, are we?"

  She snorted. "I'll admit your little apology had me fooled for a second, but I can't believe your mother would donate such an expensive piece of art simply to get you back in my good graces. I don't consider you an idiot, Galian, so I ask you to extend me the same courtesy."

  I let my pretenses fall away, offering a genuine smile. "Fine. Yes, Rhys wanted me get you to stop hating us so we could continue negotiations."

  "Negotiations for what?" Olivia asked. "Galian, we can't entertain even the possibility of working with the barethium miners until our headquarters is rebuilt. And we can't do that until your father releases the aid."

  "We're trying, Olivia. But Father's not really listening at the moment—"

  "But he could be persuaded by the members of his cabinet," Olivia said. "I've gotten Ministers Bassett, Mansela, and Gren on our side, but, unfortunately, they've been frozen out of all the meetings recently, so they can't possibly bring our message—"

  "If they aren't invited to play in the first place," I finished. This wasn't news, but it sounded like Olivia had an idea.

  "And I've been unable to get a meeting with those who are on your father's good side," she said with a frown.

  "The hawks," I offered.

  "Hawks?"

  "The...never mind," I said. "So you're trying to get a meeting with them?"

  "They won't accept Dixon's call. But I know for a fact they will be at the Midsummer's Ball."

  Her smile grew strategic and I practically saw the wheels turning in her head. The Midsummer's Ball was one of the largest galas of the year, and getting an invitation from my mother was seen as the height of social standing. But, apparently, it was also a sign of favor from the king.

  "Most of the ministers will be in attendance, and I think it will be the perfect time to discuss proposals to restart aid. Collins Shipbuilding is prepared to do whatever it takes to get our city back to the way it was. But first, I need an audience with them."

  I had no doubt she'd bring a thirty-page report on the benefits of sending money to Duran strapped to the inside of her designer dress. "I'll see what Mom can do. And between myself and Rhys, I'm sure we'll be able to facilitate some conversations."

  Olivia smiled and toyed with the rim of her glass. "It'll be...fascinating when he takes the throne one day. He's very unlike Grieg. I worry that he's a little too...relenting. A couple of powerful ministers get on the wrong side of him—"

  "I don't see him as relenting. I see him as...more willing to compromise," I said. "It's hard to achieve anything when both sides dig in their heels." I looked at my champagne glass and chuckled, remembering my early conversations on the island with Theo. "Sometimes you have to just forget about what's happened in the past in order to move forward together."

  "Do you think people can do that?" she asked, playing with the rim of her flute. "See past their differences and come together for a common good?"

  "I think they can, given the right incentive." I downed the rest of my champagne and placed the glass on a passing waiter's tray. "Well, I guess—"

  "Well, what a happy couple you are!"

  The voice was familiar, but I'd never heard it in person before. Behind us was Gaetna Zygmont, the presenter and media personality. She wore a simple black dress that fit her mature, but trim body. Her gray hair was pulled back, her manicured fingernails tightened around a pen. She looked as if her birthday had come early.

  "Am I to believe the rumors of your dissolution are false?" Zygmont asked.

  "There was nothing to dissolve," Olivia replied before I could. "Just the media making up stories. Galian and I are just dear friends."

  "That's what they say," Zygmont asked before turning her attention on me. "Shame I couldn't get an interview with you, Your Highness. I know the people are curious about what happened after you crashed your plane on that island."

  I swallowed, and caught Johar's eye, hoping she saw my plea for help. "I don't like to talk about it much."

  "If you were even there at all," Zygmont replied with a twirl of her pen.

  I had to bark a laugh. "Believe what you want. I'm not lying about it."

  "That would be a first for your family, I think," she said lightly.

  My mouth fell open at her brazen words. "We aren't all like him."

  "Then prove it," she said, her eyes narrowing in challenge. "Let me interview you. Live. Nothing off the table. Let's show the country the truth about its royal family."

  "Or, how about I cut Olivia a check, bid you good night, and go back to doing my job at the hospital," I replied as Johar appeared at my arm. "If you want to talk about the current spate of summer flu, and how our countrymen can protect themselves from it, then I have all day."

  And with that, I let Johar lead me away, thankful I'd gotten out of that one relatively unscathed.

  SEVEN

  Theo

  "Now, don't get your hopes too high," Kader said, as I dove into a strawberry pastry he'd brought from Odolf a week after our first meeting. "Anson wants you to meet with one of his deputies. Then, maybe we can meet with him."

  "Deputies?" I asked. "What does that mean?"

  "It means he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but he doesn't quite trust you yet. It's a good sign."

  I couldn't help but feel a little deflated. "Another step, another week."

  "We're making progress, Theo," Kader said. "I have a feeling this might be the break we've been waiting for."

  I wanted to feel happy about the news, but I couldn't bring myself to. Everything still seemed so difficult.

  "I think Bayard is getting desperate, so he's putting pressure on Anson. I saw more police out in the slums today," Kader said. "There've been a
few unfavorable stories in the news, especially since the finance minister announced a major funding gap in the budget. Apparently, a couple million crowns went missing, and Bayard can't account for them."

  "Not publicly anyway," I said with a snort. "But what does that mean for Rave?"

  "Probably that some programs will be cut," Kader said. "Some of your friends in the headquarters may lose their jobs."

  "Some, but not all." I hoped Cannon would get the ax.

  "But most likely, the poorest will be the most affected. That's usually how it works. The ones with money keep Bayard in power, so he'll shield them from it."

  "This could be good for Anson, though, right?"

  "He's kept ahead of Bayard this far. I wouldn't bet against him," Kader said. "But Bayard's also held onto power for almost thirteen years, so he won't relinquish it easily."

  I thought about Cannon, and how he'd been so sure of his spot next to Bayard. "But he's not going to live forever."

  "Neither will Grieg, but you don't see him making preparations. People in power live in the moment. They don't think about their own mortality."

  "So you think Grieg will die before he gives up power to Rhys?" That could take a while. Grieg was still relatively young.

  Kader smiled, knowingly. "I don't think you'll have to wait that long to be with Galian."

  I forced a smile, but I was sure it didn't look convincing. Galian had been a rather uneasy topic in my mind as of late. For being my amichai, I thought I should've missed him more than I did, or at the very least, felt more...upset that we weren't together.

  But all my mind could focus on was the mission, the painstakingly slow progress that we were making. Returning to Norose would be a pain in the ass, the reward of seeing Galian so fleeting it wasn't even worth it. And that, above all else, was a guilty dagger straight into my heart.

  "But the war won't be over until then," I said, avoiding the subject altogether. "Even if Anson gets into power...Grieg will still bomb us, won't he? Nothing will change."

  "That's what Korina and her sons are working to change. If Grieg senses that his people would rather he reconcile, he'll step in and convince the entire world it was his idea." He snorted. "He's an opportunist."