And at long last, Galvia would be free.
Chapter Fourteen
“The only difference between an imperial governor and an Alliance councilor is the guise of legitimacy.”
—Ethan Moore, 1992 A.G.
“I want to reiterate that this is not intended as a personal attack against you, my queen,” Lady Savilen said, her voice as cool and precise as ever. “We merely wish you to be aware of the political situation as it unfolds. And right now, that situation is tenuous at best.”
“So you’ve explained—numerous times,” Krystia replied sourly. As usual, it was taking all of her willpower not to lash out at the individual councilors. She was definitely going to need to appoint a Voice sooner rather than later; these constant meetings with petitioners and politicians were driving her to the brink of madness. “And I reiterated that we need only hold our current position for a few more weeks. Once our additional dragon reinforcements are ready, we’ll be able to launch a devastating counterattack.”
“Yes, your mysterious new source of combat-ready dragons,” Lord Tamas murmured. “You’ll have to forgive us for being skeptical, Your Majesty.”
“You’re free to be as skeptical as you like. But I promise you this: by the end of the month, no one in this room will be worried about the defense of Amberwood or the Darrowmere or anywhere else in Solarian territory.”
The four councilors shared wary glances, and Krystia closed her eyes and steepled her fingers in front of her chin. If Sovan had been here, he would have suggested that she reach into the councilors’ feeble minds and “persuade” them to see the situation her way. She could ensure their loyalty in the short term, and by the time her control faltered their dragons would be ready and the Crell would be on the run. But if the public ever learned about what she’d done, they would turn against her—and even an Unbound Ascendant couldn’t stand against the entire country. Not that she had any desire to do so. By the time this war was over, the people of Solaria would be proud to have her as their queen.
“The reason I brought up the new reports,” Lady Savilen said, “is that recent developments in Amberwood have presented us with a unique opportunity.”
“You mean reconnecting with Elade,” Krystia replied, nodding. “Yes, thank Sol she’s alive and unharmed. General Iouna is trying to convince her to stay and assist with the fort’s defense. The Crell will think twice about attacking with her on the walls.”
Savilen’s grey eyes flicked to her fellow councilors for the briefest of instants. “Actually, Your Majesty, that’s not exactly what we had in mind. We know you consider Dame Devarath your ally, but once again we implore you to consider the political ramifications of harboring a wanted fugitive.”
Krystia’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she sat up straight in her throne. “Elade is not a fugitive,” she said coldly. “If anything, she’s a refugee. She has been unfairly persecuted and demonized by the Last Dawn.”
“Be that as it may, she is also a powerful bargaining chip,” Alistan said. “If we hand her over to Highlord Alric, he may reconsider his position to withdraw his knights from Solaria. They could help us—”
“I am not turning her over to Alric,” Krystia hissed. “I have made that abundantly clear on numerous occasions.”
“Please, Your Majesty, just allow him to finish,” Lord Jeracho added softly. “Again, we only wish you to be informed of all your available contingencies.”
“Elade is not a ‘contingency.’ She is an ally, and a powerful one at that. Over the past few months, she’s won more victories for us than any of our armies.”
“Some would call her an assassin or a vigilante,” Tamas put in. “The Legion has no place for either.”
“No one is questioning her contributions to our cause,” Alistan interjected before Krystia could reply. “All we’re saying is that sometimes a queen and her advisors must make difficult decisions. Dame Devarath is a powerful asset, but she is still one woman. Highlord Alric could supply us with dozens—perhaps hundreds—of his knights. And even more importantly, he could potentially use his influence to convince High King Zharrs and other world leaders to send us aid.”
Krystia bit down on her lip and shook her head. “In other words, you want me to throw Elade onto Alric’s sword in order to get us some additional soldiers.”
“What we want is for you to make the best of a bad situation,” Lady Savilen corrected. “And you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you are being overdramatic. The Last Dawn does not execute its prisoners, not even those who turn against their code. In all likelihood, they will simply lock your paladin friend away, and once this war is over you’ll be in a better position to bargain for her release.”
“She seemed like a reasonable woman the one time I met her,” Alistan said. “If you spoke with her, she might even agree to—”
“I am not turning Elade over to Alric, and that’s final,” Krystia said. “We do not need his knights or the Asgardians or anyone else. We will defeat the Crell on our own, and that’s the last I wish to hear of it. Do I make myself clear?”
They shared another round of frustrated glances, and Krystia balled her hands into fists. They still believed she was a petulant child. They couldn’t see her as anything other than a naïve, twenty year-old girl who’d spent her whole life as a healer in the local temple. Raw personal power didn’t matter to them—they were politicians, not channelers. They viewed the world as an intricate web of coalitions and compromises, and they believed there was always a way to tug at a particular thread to get what they wanted.
But this war wasn’t about politics or soldiers or even armies—it was about control and mastery of the Aether. The High Sovereign’s Breakers had given the Crell a tremendous tactical advantage thus far, but Sovan’s dragon-breeding technique would even the odds soon enough. And once the other Unbound were ready for deployment, she wouldn’t have to worry so much about binding new priests. Eventually she might even be able to set them all free and rid herself of the constant whispering voices in her mind...
The Council adjourned shortly thereafter, and Krystia returned to her chambers. Unsurprisingly, Sovan was already there waiting for her.
“I trust you listened in on the proceedings,” she asked as she stepped over to her wardrobe and removed her earrings.
“Of course,” he said, leaning his back against the darkest corner of the room. “But it’s not as though I haven’t heard exactly the same arguments before.”
“Welcome to politics,” Krystia muttered. “Do you still believe they’ll betray me?”
“More than ever,” Sovan said as he stepped out from the shadows. “Margrove and Zorael already have. Why do you think they’ve refused your summons back to the palace?”
“Because their lands are under siege or soon will be. Margrove might be foolish enough to try and negotiate a deal with the Crell, but Zorael has been a loyal supporter of the Legion for many years. She stands with her people in the Darrowmere.”
“They have both betrayed you, and the others won’t be far behind.”
Krystia glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “Were you probing their thoughts during the meeting?”
His eyebrows arched ever-so-slightly. “You explicitly forbade me from using the Aether on any high-ranking officials, Your Majesty.”
“As if that would stop you,” she muttered, setting her earrings inside her jewelry case and spinning around. She had never allowed him to sit in on Council meetings before, and not just because he was completely devoid of social graces. For one, his presence in the palace was just another reminder to the nobles that she had freed the so-called “prisoners” from the Asylum, and his proximity to her played into the growing political narrative that she cared more about her kind than the people of Solaria. For two, she didn’t trust him to keep his powers in check. He could ruin everything with a single spell.
Still, the more time passed the more she sympathized with his position. She desperately wanted to
believe there was a way to bridge the gap between the Sightless masses and the Unbound, but that prospect seemed less and less likely by the day. Debates were tenuous enough between equals, but how could she possibly negotiate with someone who almost literally lived in a different world? If her relationship with Darius was suffering—and it absolutely was, no matter how much she wished to deny it—then how could she possibly work with other Sightless whom she didn’t even respect?
Krystia sighed and pinched at her temples. “Give me a straight answer: were you reading their minds or not?”
“No,” Sovan said. “I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They were wearing dampening crystals, likely embedded within their jewelry or other finery. I could sense their presence but not press into their thoughts.” He shuffled in place. “You didn’t notice?”
“I didn’t try to manipulate their minds,” she told him, though she felt her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Even without actively trying to read their minds she probably should have noticed the dampening aura of the crystals. But with her power splintered in hundreds of different directions in order to support her Bound servants, she was finding even mundane channeling techniques more difficult than normal.
“I see,” Sovan said. His expression remained neutral, but his tone was as smug as ever. “Well, in any event they are obviously not stupid. One of them—probably Savilen—realized they needed a way to protect themselves against you and your Bound. The largest vatari crystal deposits are in her province, if I recall correctly.”
Krystia shook her head. “King Areekan never would have tolerated such a slight. But then again, the councilors never feared him, either. They were his glorified lapdogs.”
“You could order them to remove the crystals. If they resist, we’ll know for certain if they have anything to hide.”
“No. That would only hasten their defection, and none of this petty bickering will matter once our dragons are ready.” She eyed him warily. “They will be ready, won’t they?”
“The Hatchery’s timetable remains intact,” he assured her. “But what if the councilors don’t wait that long? What if they move against you before we’re ready?”
“Then I will do whatever is necessary,” Krystia told him. “But right now, we’ll just have to wait.”
“I see,” Sovan murmured. He didn’t believe her, of course—he doubted both her ability and willingness to take a hard line with the Council. But right now, she didn’t particularly care what he or anyone else thought. She just wanted to be alone.
“Leave me,” she ordered, turning back to her armoire. “We can speak again tomorrow.”
Sovan nodded. “Of course, my queen. As always, I shall be here if you require my services.”
He strode out of her chamber, and she sank down into her bed before stretching out with the Aether and telepathically locking the door. With all the voices of her Bound constantly jostling for her attention, she could never truly be alone anymore, but at least her room was quiet. She had already learned to appreciate why most Ascendants empowered a Voice to speak for them, and as the days went by she also understood why they isolated themselves in a private chamber away from the eyes of the world…
But she wasn’t willing to completely withdraw. Not yet, and hopefully not ever. She didn’t want to become a cronish hermit like Areekan forever trapped in the thousands of whispered conversations inside his mind. She still had personal goals to accomplish; she still had a life she wanted to lead. One of these days, once they had driven back the Crell and the tensions of the war had eased, she was going to marry Darius. The celebration would sprawl up and down the grand streets of Celenest, and people from across Solaria would come to catch their first glimpse of the young queen who had saved them from imperial rule. They would respect her wisdom and marvel at her beauty…and her legitimacy as Areekan’s successor would finally be secured.
Krystia was nearly half an hour into her pleasant, relaxing reverie when a telepathic voice inside her mind requested—no, demanded—her full attention. Sighing tiredly, she concentrated on sorting through the myriad Aetheric tendrils binding her to her servants. It wasn’t overly difficult, especially considering how fervently this particular Bound had decided to tug…
I hope you bear good news, Krystia said.
I do, in fact, Ethan Moore replied. I made contact with one of the Asgardian clan lords, and he has agreed to join us in our attack on Ashenfel.
She blinked and sat up. You convinced the Asgardians to aid us?
Not the Asgardians—just one clan, Ethan corrected. You can ask your diplomats for the political details, but suffice to say that High King Zharrs remains resolute in his noninterference. Clan Lord Halfren, thankfully, is capable of seeing the larger picture.
I’m surprised they were willing to challenge their king, Krystia said. I thought the clans were as united as they’ve ever been.
That’s because you are ignorant of politics outside Solaria, Ethan said, his mental voice as snide and self-assured as his physical one. The clan-lords are desperate to find glory in a time of extended peace.
Krystia bit down on her lip and tried not to seethe. She had considered severing her connection to Ethan numerous times over the past few months—she had even considered dispatching her other Bound to kill him outright—but she’d always managed to convince herself that he was still a worthy asset. He had as much experience with war and subterfuge as any of her advisors, and if he excelled at one thing it was getting results. The problem was that he was also a completely insufferable bastard.
How many soldiers has Halfren promised to commit?
Five thousand, Ethan said. His entire clan is scheduled to land north of Lyebel twelve days from now. They’ll rendezvous with whatever forces you can assemble, and together we’ll march to liberate the capital.
“Five thousand,” Krystia whispered aloud, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. For the most part, she had been willing to leave the broader strategy of the war to Darius and his advisors, and she’d been so focused upon empowering new Bound to aid in the defense of Amberwood that she had almost forgotten about the northern front. After Garos, the Crell had withdrawn so many troops that Darius had only left a minimal garrison in Lyebel.
I’d ask how you managed this, she said, but I’m not sure I want to know.
You have nothing to worry about, Your Majesty, Ethan insisted, which actually made her feel even worse. All I’ve promised them is the chance for glory in battle. Clan Lord Halfren understands that once the war is over, Galvia and Solaria will be very appreciate of its allies.
Krystia snorted. You promised him help in overthrowing Zharrs, didn’t you?
I promised nothing we cannot deliver. You will just need to trust me on the details.
“As if I have a choice,” she muttered. I can speak with General Iouna, but I’m not sure we’ll be able to spare any more men, not with the Crell pressing Amberwood and the Darrowmere.
If you ever want relief in the south, then we must put pressure upon Galvia, Ethan insisted. The Asgardians can handle the front-line grunt work, but we will need considerable support troops. Specifically, we’ll need as many Bound as you can spare. The king’s shaman obviously won’t be interested in helping us.
I will spare what I can, but it won’t be much, Krystia told him. You’ll have to make due.
I trust in your judgment and that of your general, he replied, the sarcasm practically dripping off every word. We will also need air support if we have any hope of breaching their walls, preferably dragons.
Krystia grunted. She considered informing Ethan about their plans with the Golden Hatchery, but for the moment it was probably best to keep the details to herself. Telling him now wouldn’t gain her anything, and she rather liked the idea of keeping at least a few secrets from him. Still, he was right that their army would need something. Otherwise an old-fashioned city siege would take weeks if no
t months, and that would completely defeat the purpose of drawing Crell resources away from the south.
I’ll see what we can spare, she told him. I just hope Ashenfel will fall as easily as you seem to believe.
I never claimed that taking the city would be easy, Ethan corrected. I simply claimed it was necessary. Once Sovereign Verrator is defeated and Galvia is free, the Crell will have no choice but to fall back to protect their northern border. The scope of the war will change overnight.
I just hope that once Galvia is free, you’ll remember what side you’re on.
I am on the side of Galvia, Your Majesty. Just as I have always been.
Right, she said, shaking her head. Keep me apprised.
As always, Your Majesty, I am merely a thought away.
***
“I still say this is a terrible idea,” Horsch muttered as he held his hands out above the fire. Winter had technically ended about a week ago, but his breath still billowed out in front of him. “The Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces shouldn’t be sitting out in the open this close to the border. Not without a whole battalion of troops surrounding him.”
Onar Tenel smiled thinly. “We’re not exactly defenseless.”
Horsch scoffed and glanced over his shoulder to the small squad of armored soldiers surrounding the campsite. “A dozen men and a few scouts hardly count as an escort for a colonel, let alone the Supreme Commander. You should have pleaded with the High Sovereign for one of her Breakers.”
“There aren’t any left in this part of the country. The Imperators will have to suffice. It’s not like we’re meeting with a bunch of Galvian rebels.”
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 110
