“I’m leaving the door open,” she said. “I expect you both down in the common room in five minutes.”
“Plenty of time for me to teach Velanor some manners,” said Damon.
“Ew!” said Vel. “Also, no it wouldn’t be. Maybe for you, but I would need at least—"
“Solas!” snapped Malon. “Seta. I’m serious. Enough.”
Damon let his grip on Vel’s wrists slacken, and Vel set the pillow down. He stole a quick kiss to let her know that there were no hard feelings and then watched her walk from his room, her sexy, petite body practically oozing out of her small clothes.
Malon stood at the door for long enough to shake her head disapprovingly one last time before departing. Damon couldn’t keep from smiling as he started getting dressed, overcome with the love he had for both of them. He thought of Ria and hoped she was doing well. He felt confident she was, given that she was, well, Ria.
He put on his best shirt, the durable leggings he’d taken with him from Yvvestrosai, and strapped on his myrblade. As Malon had said, Kastet and Lilian were already sitting at a table with Wrath in the common room.
Breakfast had been served, thick wedges of maple-walnut cake alongside fried potatoes with bacon scraps. He made a beeline for the kitchen, where Malon was already fixing him and Vel plates, and then found a chair to join the others.
“My brother, the rightful king of Merinia, will be arriving here in Silke tomorrow or possibly even today,” said Kastet. “We all need to mobilize, including Famine. Where is she?”
She’d directed the question at Wrath. The Forsaken stared back at her, unflinching, seemingly dangerous to both those who didn’t know her and those who did. Damon sensed her answer through her hesitation.
“I don’t know,” said Wrath.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” snapped Kastet. “We’re past the point of full commitment. We can’t risk having a missing piece hinder our victory.”
“Easy.” Damon gently kicked her shin under the table, mindful of to whom she was talking, even if she wasn’t. “I’m sure there’s a good reason why Famine hasn’t arrived yet. It’s not as if she’s been missed in presence, so let’s just take a breath and stay calm about this.”
Wrath and Kastet continued to eye each other, both a fraction of a lowered eyebrow away from active glares. The situation might well have progressed toward genuinely dangerous places if not for the sudden arrival of a different Forsaken.
Seffi came downstairs with ponderous steps, carrying a large book under one arm, gaze mostly fixed on the floor. She had that messy, unkempt look that younger teenagers so often have, unslept and underprepared for the day.
She sat down at her own table, though she was immediately joined by Malon, who seemed more alert to the situation within the room than Seffi by leaps and bounds. It was the first time Wrath and Lascivious had met in their current bodies.
Damon was aware enough of the passage of events within Merinia and Veridan’s Curve to realize the weight and import of what he was currently witnessing. In all likelihood, Kastet would one day write a memoir that committed the intricacies of this very moment, through her eyes, into the permanent record of their world. No doubt the words about to be spoken would forever ring through the hallowed halls of history.
“Bitch,” said Wrath.
Seffi straightened, fumbling her book, which she’d opened and started to flip through.
“So you don’t remember,” said Wrath. “I suppose that makes things easier.”
Seffi looked confused, and she was bad at hiding it. She glanced toward Malon, face creasing with uncertainty. Malon leaned in and whispered a few words into her ear, always the teacher.
“You’re… Wrath,” said Seffi.
“And you’re Lascivious,” said Wrath. “Well met, sister.”
Dark irony dripped from Wrath’s voice, enough to leave Damon insanely curious about the path of their relationship over time.
“My name is Seffarina,” said Seffi harshly.
“Ah, but of course.” Wrath turned her palms up, smirking cruelly. “Seffarina. Such a pretty name. Please, have a seat over here, with us.”
She kicked out underneath the table, forcing one of the chairs outward with a screech of wood on stone. Seffi’s hands tensed against the edges of her book.
“I… I’m comfortable where I’m sitting.” Seffi glanced at Malon as if for confirmation.
Malon nodded, smiling as though nothing was wrong and nothing could ever be wrong. Damon had seen that smile many, many times before, toward him, Vel, and Ria.
“Look,” said Wrath. “I don’t know how this conversation is supposed to go between us, sister. The best I’ve managed before is a truce with Famine built through mutual disdain, and I only barely trust her. Forgive me for being so blunt with you, but once upon a time, you and I were… Well, you were someone I felt I could trust. This is many lives ago, do you understand? Centuries for them, a few projects for us.”
Seffi looked even more uncertain, if it was possible. “I’m… still coming into my memories.”
“Obviously,” sighed Wrath. “It would be simpler if you could be completely honest with me. Do you remember anything of Avarice, of our most recent lives? You and he, for a time, were… I suppose close isn’t the word I’d use. The two of you had an arrangement. This was long ago, before I began my war, and before he began his. Is any of this registering for you? Does it just sound as though I’m ranting of events that you find unfamiliar and irrelevant? I simply wish to know where you stand, in body, mind, and heart.”
“He killed my family,” whispered Seffi. “I don’t feel safe with him still alive… and I want revenge.”
Wrath laced her fingers together, shifting her shoulders more in Seffi’s direction. “If that’s the case, then I’ll help you get it. I have my own debt of pain owed to Avarice. We can achieve our goals together, form a united front, as we have in the past.”
Malon set a hand on Seffi’s shoulder but didn’t whisper advice to her this time. The slender girl with the book took her time in thinking through her answer.
“I’ll help fight Avarice,” said Seffi. “I won’t commit to anything beyond that.”
Wrath let out a chuckle with a sinister edge to it. “Smart girl. I wouldn’t either if I were you. Not that I’m not disappointed. We were good together, once.”
Seffi closed her book and, with Malon following close behind, headed for the stairs. Wrath stood up and made her way to the door, lingering outside on the jetty.
“I suppose that could have gone worse,” said Kastet.
“Yeah,” said Damon. “I suppose it could have.”
CHAPTER 30
King Gabriel’s ship arrived in Silke later that afternoon. Damon stood atop Silke’s main dock along with Kastet and Vel, watching as the large galleon anchored and began extending its gangway. A small procession of Silke nobilities, including the Lord Governor and his guards, was also in attendance, eager to curry favor.
Gabriel looked tired but serious as he slowly made his way down from the ship. He wore a plain gold circlet, which still seemed like too much atop his unruly dark hair. His clothing was fine, but not as ostentatious or eye-catching as one might have expected from a king, a blue shirt with fine white slacks.
“Lord Governor,” said Gabriel, greeting Abastrius. “So good of you to have me in your city.”
“It is my honor, Your Majesty.” Abastrius bowed deeply as he shook the younger man’s hand. “We’ve prepared one of our landside mansions for you. It offers ease of access to the roads, which no doubt you’ll appreciate.”
“You’re too kind.” Gabriel nodded, brushing by the man with a level of efficiency that Damon appreciated. Gabriel pulled Kastet into a tight hug, and the two of them exchanged a few words too quiet for anyone else to overhear as they continued walking, side by side.
Little of importance was discussed as Gabriel, Damon, Kastet, and Vel made their way by gondola to the K
ing’s mansion. Damon stopped off to collect Malon, Seffi, and Wrath, who were still resting within Kastet’s lodgings. Lilian stayed behind, in small part due to her allergy to the sun and in large part because of how much she stood out.
The mansion the Lord Governor had provided King Gabriel was on the beach, with a view of all of Silke’s flooded waterways and the ocean beyond. The first level was embedded with several impressive glass windows, and sun flooded in across polished wood floors as the party found its way into the common room.
Several servants were already queued, waiting for instruction. Gabriel waved them over as soon as he saw them.
“Um, hello,” he said. “This may come across as an impertinent request, but, ah, I’d prefer if you left. All of you.”
He gestured to everyone within the mansion. The servant he addressed bowed and, over the course of the next few minutes, assembled his fellows and departed.
“Far too likely that there was at least one spy amongst them,” explained Gabriel. “Plus, I brought my own servants who I’m sure will be more than capable of tending to my needs.”
“Smart move,” said Damon. “The Lord Governor has given us prior reason to be wary of him.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” said Gabriel. “But we can deal with that later. We have much greater concerns at the moment. Avery, break out the wine and start pouring.”
Damon was openly fascinated by how much Gabriel had changed in becoming King. It was less a change of personality and more one of simple increased confidence, but the difference it made was the difference between night and day.
Gabriel noticed the attention Damon was paying to him and flashed a grin his way. He walked over and clapped a hand on Damon’s shoulder.
“You may not be of royal blood, or one of the Forsaken, Damon, but I hope you realize how much value I place on your opinion,” said Gabriel. “You’ve done so much to help me, but beyond that, you’ve earned my trust.”
“I appreciate that, Your Majesty,” he said.
The King shook his head. “Gabriel. It’s always Gabriel, to you.”
“Gabriel, then,” said Damon. He felt himself starting to smile. “When this is all finished and formally over, I’m going to appreciate being friends with a king.”
“More than I think you know. Here. Come, sit.”
Gabriel’s servants had pushed a couple of tables together and set chairs around it. Damon sat to Gabriel’s right, with Kastet on his left. Seffi and Wrath were across from one another, though both directed their attention at practically anything but each other. Vel and Malon also found seats near the table’s end.
“I was under the impression that we were expecting one more,” said Gabriel. “Where is this mysterious Famine that I’ve heard so much about?”
All eyes turned toward Wrath. The blue-haired woman furrowed her brow, shrugged, and then grew far more serious.
“To be completely honest, I can think of only two reasons why she isn’t currently here,” said Wrath. “Either she has been found by Avarice and killed or imprisoned, or…”
“Or?” asked Damon.
Wrath turned her palm up. “Or she’s gone over to Avarice’s side.”
Silence fell across the table as the implication of her words fully set in. Gabriel made an odd huffing noise and chewed his lip.
“Do you think it likely that she’d betray you in such a way?” asked the King.
Wrath shook her head and didn’t answer.
“I’ve met Famine before,” said Damon. “It doesn’t seem out of the question that she’d make a deal to betray us if left with no other choice.”
“I could see her making such a deal out of simple greed or amusement,” said Kastet.
“She hates Avarice as much as I do,” said Wrath. “It is very possible that she switched sides. However… I think it’s more likely that her body was destroyed.”
She spoke as though she’d given it a fair amount of thought. Damon suddenly saw their encounter the previous night from a new angle. She’d realized that Famine wasn’t coming by then. She wanted him to take her crest to shore up their collective power level.
“Well,” said Gabriel, with a sigh. “This changes our circumstances quite a bit, if I’m understanding the situation correctly.”
“It does,” admitted Kastet. “Famine was going to provide us with an army of monsters with which to storm Avaricia. They might only have served as a distraction, rather than properly sacking the city, but they would have been a major asset.”
“Oh, how tragic,” said Damon, with deep sarcasm.
Gabriel began rapping his knuckles on the table, not to draw the room’s attention, but more out of fidgeting habit. He glanced toward Kastet, who was deep in thought.
“I still see a way forward,” said Kastet. “I think it would be a grave mistake to take the same view we had previously of attempting to overthrow Avarice through outright war. No… We need to treat this more like a political problem.”
“You sound like you have an idea,” said Damon.
Kastet slowly nodded her head. “The power that each of the Forsaken holds is so immense that it makes sense to think of them as independent nations of one, rather than singular people. The issue, as it stands, is that Avarice refuses to recognize the sovereignty of his siblings.”
“Our goal is to see Avarice dead, not whatever statecraft you have in mind, Princess,” said Wrath.
“Give me a moment to explain!” snapped Kastet. “My brother, King Gabriel, will be meeting with Avarice in Veridas Keep three days from now. What if… what if he were to make an appeal that the two of you, Wrath and Lascivious, his new allies, be recognized and granted titles, privileges, official honors, and such?”
“I’m not following,” said Gabriel. “What would this achieve?”
Kastet held out one hand. “Avarice is the Godking.” She held her other hand toward where Wrath and Seffi were sitting. “Should not these two stand as equals, as Godqueens?”
“Avarice would never accept that,” said Gabriel.
“Exactly,” said Damon as he began to understand. “Kastet isn’t speaking of coming to terms with Avarice. This would just serve as a pretense to usurp his power. After Avarice refused to recognize them as Godqueens, Wrath and Lascivious, er, Seffi, would have reason to confront him directly and depose him from his throne.”
“We’re forgetting about Conceit,” said Kastet. “Not to mention Famine, if she has switched sides.”
“Conceit is hardly a factor,” said Wrath. “Not all of the Divine Remnants are equally powerful. Lascivious, Avarice, Malice, and I were always of a higher tier of power.”
“Is there a chance that Malice might be hiding in the shadows alongside Avarice?” asked Damon.
Nobody seemed eager to tackle that question, and it seemed to stir a collective headache from the group as the complexity of their task became more apparent.
“There are some assumptions which are simply unavoidable,” Kastet finally said. “If more of the Forsaken beyond those we know about are involved, then our plan will fail. But at the moment, we don’t have any evidence suggesting that Malice or Craven are in Veridan’s Curve, let alone allied with the Godking.”
“That seems prudent to me.” Gabriel took a breath, let out a sigh, and massaged his temples with his fingers. “So. I meet with Avarice. I bridge the topic of anointing Wrath and Lascivious as Godqueens.”
“Not immediately,” said Kastet. “They need to be there. They’d stand no chance making it into the palace through the front door, however, so we’ll need a way of sneaking in.”
“Famine has prepared for this,” said Wrath. “There’s a tunnel outside Avaricia that connects to the Old Sewer. We can, in all likelihood, follow it to Veridas Keep’s dungeons and proceed from there.”
Damon let out an appreciative whistle. “Avarice, Conceit, Wrath, and Seffi. I don’t know. I don’t see a way in which any of us mortals make it out of a battle between four of the Fors
aken within an enclosed space.”
“Um…” Seffi raised a hand. “I could make a barrier? If we were close together, and nobody else was near enough. Then none of us could do any damage accidentally.”
“You’re seriously capable of creating a barrier that could contain that much power being thrown around?” asked Damon.
“She is,” said Malon, setting a hand on Seffi’s shoulder.
Damon crossed his arms. “This could actually work. With Avarice and Conceit dead, we’d still have to pacify the city, but I somehow doubt it would be all that difficult if the two of you were willing to give public display of your power.”
“It isn’t so big of a difference to exchange one Godking for two Godqueens,” said Kastet. “Especially given Avarice’s rather minimal approach to providing services to the poor, the majority. We might be able to avert any unrest altogether if we simply open Avarice’s coffers and start flinging money into the crowd.”
“Are we still talking about defeating Avarice, or have we shifted into overthrowing the entire political system?” asked Damon.
Kastet gave him a playful smile. “Well, I suppose that’s up to us.”
CHAPTER 31
The tone of the conversation shifted as Damon and the others began to see how realistic the plan was, on paper. There were plenty of things that could go wrong, from Avarice having more allies among his brethren than anticipated, to collateral damage, to a faster response by the city guards than expected.
The more they discussed it, however, the less it seemed any potential problem would be enough to forestall their attempt at overthrowing the Godking. Damon’s heart began to pound out a hard, steady rhythm as the situation became real. They were going to strike against Avarice. It was happening.
He thought about the pain Avarice had caused him personally, the trauma he’d suffered fighting Austine and thinking he’d killed him. As much as he wanted to find a way to get a message to his friend, it would be far too risky to let him in on any of the plan’s specifics.
He could only hope that Austine would have the sense to stand down, or put himself outside of the conflict in the moment. If he didn’t, then this would inevitably be their last fight. Damon ran his thumb over the pommel of his myrblade, knowing that he would have to be the one to handle Austine if it came to it.
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