“Then we have struck a bargain?” Merhaven was too eager.
I could almost sense the deep breath Theodor took before he began to speak. “We can be persuaded to allow the soldiers and officers of the Royalist army to remain free, under the good faith of parole, under no penalty, provided of course that their loyalty remains to Galitha. Whatever government Galitha enacts, they shall serve it, or they leave the service of the army immediately and return to their homes.”
There was a stifling silence under the pavilion. “We can discuss the army separately,” Merhaven finally said. “We require such for those nobles leading this army.”
“I thought I noticed a strange emphasis on we in that first statement,” Kristos said. “Surely you aren’t attempting to negotiate solely for yourselves and your highest-ranking officers?” I could imagine his face, half a grin lilting across it, his eyes sparking. “That would not look well, willingness to abandon an offer of parole for your entire force, in favor of protecting your own flesh. Tsk, tsk.”
Merhaven had never, I imagined, encountered anyone quite like Kristos, and I could imagine the red tinge spreading over his ears and cheeks. But it was the king who spoke instead. “Theodor, you must think reasonably. It would be barbarous to imprison your own father and sister.”
“It was barbarous to bring war to your own countrymen because you didn’t like laws passed in their consideration.” My heart ached for Theodor, for the control in his voice, for the dearth of emotion I knew must have been painful for him to achieve. “We will accept your surrender. Your army will have parole, under the limitations we’ve discussed. But you and the commanding officers of this army will stand trial before your countrymen for your crimes. That is the offer we make.”
“Then we will execute the witch we captured,” Pommerly interjected.
“You will return my sister, or we will rescind the offer of parole for your army,” Kristos half shouted.
“No, you won’t,” Merhaven said. “Because that wouldn’t look well.” Kristos had set himself up perfectly for that, I thought with withering hope. “So the witch dies, unless you are willing to grant us the same protection as the army.”
“No.” I started at Polly’s voice. “No, she does not. What laws has she broken?”
“Lady Apollonia, this is not a good time to—”
“To what, Father? To remind everyone that we are bound by certain conventions, certain laws, and that this woman hasn’t broken any of them?” She laughed lightly, exemplifying that control I wasn’t sure I could ever muster. “If you want a law against casting, I suggest one be enacted. But she was a combatant in this battle, the same as any man-at-arms captured. See?” I felt her light fingers on my arm, on the red wool trim of my gray riding habit. “She is even in uniform.” I felt her hand tremble slightly over mine.
The silence was oppressive, beating against my ears as the darkness assaulted my unseeing eyes. “Very well,” the king finally said. “We’ve played our hand, and it turns out that both of my children carry trump cards of laws and ethics. Would that I had raised them poorly.” Yet even then, in the face of crushing defeat and the end of life as he understood it, there was a faint spark of pride when he spoke of Theodor and Polly. “You have our surrender.”
55
SIANH REMOVED THE BINDINGS FROM MY WRISTS A MOMENT LATER, and I tore the blindfold from my eyes and ran to Theodor and Kristos. I flung myself at both of them, surprised to realize I was sobbing even as I laughed.
“Slow down, there,” Kristos said as he half tumbled into a tent pole and the entire pavilion shook. Theodor caught my hand and I saw that a coarse bandage wrapped Kristos’s calf.
“Oh! Oh you’re—”
“Nothing serious, shot just grazed it a bit.”
“Your brother bleeds like a hog,” Sianh said.
“I think you mean ‘stuck pig,’” Kristos said. “And yes, I don’t do anything halfway. It’s fine,” he reassured me, but I swiftly pulled a charm from the ether and embedded it into the fibers of the bandage, imbuing it with health. The effort on top of the rush of emotion made me light-headed, and the edges of my vision faded toward light.
“Steady,” Theodor said. The trio of Royalist leadership, and Polly, had already been marched away under guard, and three coffee-colored camp chairs they had set up like thrones for the interview remained. Theodor guided me toward one, and Kristos, with a grunt, gratefully settled into another.
Theodor quickly related the ending of the battle. “We crossed the halfway mark, and Otni did not deploy. I assumed Fig didn’t make it through. It was close for a while, but suddenly they all poured out of the main gate like a flood.”
“It wasn’t Fig’s fault,” I said. “The Serafans were casting on the city, from the harbor. We couldn’t have seen it from our position, even if I’d been there,” I added. “If Annette hadn’t sent in the fire ship, I don’t know if they could have been stopped.”
“Sweet Galatine Divine,” murmured Theodor. “It was never a strategy we discussed, but I suppose I always knew it was an option. A desperate one—if we wished to retain the Galatine naval vessels for the Republic. All of those ships, destroyed?”
“Enough of them, surely.” Sianh’s mouth was set in a firm line. “There is an expression in Serafan. ‘Better to drown than burn, better to burn than drown.’”
My mouth was dry. “Are all your expressions that depressing?”
“I could not say.” He shook his head. “But what a terrible way to perish.”
“Let’s not discuss it any longer,” I whispered. “Is it over? Really and truly?”
“The Royalist army is secured,” Theodor confirmed, “and we’re in the process of combing the area and searching near the harbor. Everyone is being kept under guard and arms requisitioned. We will have to figure out exactly how to—what? Muster them out?”
“They have terms.” Kristos shrugged. “They’ll need to decide if they’re loyal to a new Republic of Galitha or if they want to find other employment.”
“We shall not send our troops home quickly,” Sianh cautioned. “Until we are assured there are no holdouts, no southern lords ready to fight.”
“You expect that?”
“I expect many things that never happen,” Sianh said with a grin. I finally felt the wash of relief I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for at his smile. The grim battlefield demeanor was gone, and he was, though still engaged in serious matters, lighter. “But for now, there is a city to march into in triumph.”
Sianh secured horses for all of us; his mount and Theodor’s were not fresh and, as he said, deserved a rest and some oats. There were no sidesaddles to be had, so I was obliged to hitch my skirts awkwardly around my legs. The wool molded against my legs like a pair of unattractive breeches, and I would have cared less that I looked like a country bumpkin riding the family mule to market if we weren’t about to parade in front of the entire population of Galitha City.
I rode between Theodor and Kristos, at both of their insistence. Sianh, along with a few officers selected by him for exceptional service, rode behind us, and the First Regiment quickly martialed itself to follow while the rest of the soldiers took on the work left in the wake of the battle—securing prisoners, locating the injured, aiding in the field hospitals. I felt exposed on my mount, on display along with the leadership of the army of the Republic of Galitha, but as we took a steady pace across the battlefield, I suppressed any argument. I had fought here, too. I forced myself to look at the battered redoubts, bodies still lying where they had fallen, at the artillery pieces, abandoned at the last minute by Royalist soldiers but with curse magic still clinging to the places where I had sunk it into wood of carriages and emplacements.
I turned my face away from the field. I knew the death we had wrought here. It was impossible to deny, to forget. It pressed itself into my memory, that I dealt out loss just as the cannons and muskets had. With a heavy sigh, I looked instead toward the open gate of Gal
itha City.
I had seen my city thousands of times, the gate we rode through as familiar as a corner of my house or the shape of my own fingernails. I had seen it in summer, winter, and every weather, but I had never seen it from horseback, lined with cheering and weeping citizens.
I looked over the crowd gathered to watch as we rode toward Fountain Square, where I knew Niko’s headquarters had been and where ours would, at least temporarily, be. Most looked weary, worn to their cores, and pale, but with the first blush of revival sweeping their cheeks and underused smiles creeping over their faces. They were thin, most of them. Clothes needed mending. Buildings needed repair. There were certainly logistics of feeding and housing all of these people to address—the larders of the besieged city were sure to be scraping thin, and many houses were uninhabitable.
For now, for today, I could only smile, joy, relief, and real, tangible hope breaking across my face like sunrise. The people lining the avenue felt the same, I knew. The storm was over. Morning had broken, finally, clear and promising. And so many people! As though all of Galitha City had gathered, united in celebration that, if nothing else, tomorrow had finally come and it had not brought death and destruction.
We spilled into Fountain Square. We were met by not only more crowds of cheering citizens but by a bloc of Niko’s red-capped army. Niko Otni stood at their head, a polished spontoon in his hand. Beside me, Kristos and Theodor slowed, and Sianh ordered the regiment behind us to come to a halt.
Niko took two paces forward and met first Kristos’s eyes, and then, briefly, mine. There was still a dark determination there, as though this battle was not over. I clenched my fists around the reins, and my horse skittered backward, sensing my anxiety. Readying to fight, I knew as I felt the muscles tense and spring beneath me, and I took a steadying breath and forced myself to relax.
Niko broke into a wide smile and lowered his spontoon. Kristos dismounted and embraced him, then Theodor. I dismounted last, but did not approach him. I glanced at Sianh, who had taken the reins of Kristos’s horse. He nodded once, keeping his eyes on Niko.
“We must begin to settle this split army into one whole. I will find someone to take the mounts,” he said.
“We’re meeting in Otni’s headquarters now,” Theodor said, joining us. “We need to decide—”
“Many things,” I said quietly, laying my hand on his arm.
56
“I SAY WE EXECUTE THE LOT OF THEM,” NIKO SAID. “THEY WOULD have done no less for us.”
“Be that as it may, that doesn’t mean executing regular troops is within the conventions of war,” Theodor said. “Nor the terms of the surrender we negotiated.”
“Sod your conventions! And I wasn’t present at your negotiations,” Niko said. “What’s to stop them from mustering against us again if we just—what? Let them go?”
“The regulars are paid to fight,” Kristos countered. “They’re not going to take up arms without that. And we control the treasury now, remember?”
“We control some of it. Too much of it is still tied up in noble estates,” Niko said. “But fine. We’ll shelve discussing what to do with the soldiers.”
“No,” Kristos said, “we’re done discussing it. We have to conduct ourselves as a legitimate government moving forward, and that means honoring our treaties and pacts.” Theodor nodded in agreement, and Annette slipped quietly into the room.
I caught her hand in relief—we hadn’t had bad news out of the harbor, still simmering with smoking ships, but that didn’t reassure me until I saw her in person. Her hair was a disheveled mess beneath her cocked hat, and there were scorch marks on her wool coat. I asked my question without speaking—was she all right?
She forced a small smile, but there was a haunted hollowness in her eyes, and I saw—she had made the decision to send the fire ships into the harbor and knew already, knew in her deepest core, that she would have to live with that decision for the rest of her life.
“Your treaty is less important than the larger question anyway,” Niko said.
“Which is?” Kristos waited patiently.
Niko was almost enjoying this, I thought bitterly as he unrolled a large map. All of Galitha spread over the table between us, the southern coastline and eastern forests, the mountains and the rivers cupping broad plains between them. Marked in reds and golds across the map were, I realized as I squinted, noble estates.
“As I said.” Niko cleared his throat. “The nobles still own most of the land producing grain and, ultimately, gold. How do you prevent another insurrection when they have every advantage?”
A sour silence permeated the room. “I suppose you had something in mind,” I said.
“As a matter of fact—”
“But it’s not your choice,” I said.
“The hell it isn’t! It’s not yours,” Niko shouted. “You and your prince don’t make the rules here.”
“Never said we did,” I replied. “But you don’t, either. We have a Council of Country. Properly elected. Now that we’ve combined with the forces here, your men will elect representatives from their ranks to fill the rest of the seats. And then they can make the decisions.”
Niko narrowed his eyes. “How do I trust that this council isn’t seeded with nobles?”
“Oh, never fear,” Kristos said. “We’ve got a couple.”
“What!” Niko slammed his hand on the table. “Of all the gall. I believed it of your simpering sister, Balstrade, I certainly believe it of that crown prince buffoon, but—”
“They joined the Reformist fight willingly. They earned their voice.”
“A voice to drown the rest of us out,” Niko said.
“They’re solidly in the minority,” Kristos said. “There’s no way they can swing the vote toward their interests.” His voice lowered, almost dangerous. “And they fought and died for us, too.”
“We can’t have any left. None. What they did—damn your eyes, Balstrade! You saw that field, flooded with the blood of our countrymen, and you’d forget already that the nobility did that?”
“I’d be hard-pressed to forget that,” Kristos replied tersely. “But we built an army of Reformists, not just Red Caps. Most of them aren’t going to take kindly to—what, Niko? You want to slaughter everyone with a noble bloodline in the country?”
Niko clamped his jaw shut but stared at Kristos, his answer clear.
“I’m not going to institute some sort of purge, a slaughter. That’s not what this army fought for.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Niko demanded.
“We’re going to let the elected council do its job,” Theodor said, his tone confidently deployed to end the argument.
“You!” Niko snorted. “You don’t have anything to say here. You don’t have a role in this play any longer. Take your princely costume and get the hell off the stage.”
“He’s wearing the same thing I am, Otni. And he absolutely does have a role here,” Kristos shouted. “He led this army as much as I did, and he’s not any less entitled to his place here than you are.”
“That,” Niko said, ice in his eyes, “is a matter of opinion.”
“There’s a more pressing concern, anyway.” I spoke softly, but it echoed in the silent room. “We’re holding the leadership of the Royalist army prisoner. Per the terms of surrender. Merhaven, Pommerly, several other nobles in the highest roles of leadership. And the king.”
“What of the queen? And their children?” Niko shot back.
“Most of their children are Reformists,” Kristos replied. “Their youngest son is but a child, too young to be held accountable. He and his mother are in hiding, probably in Serafe somewhere. I’m inclined to pretend we don’t even know that and let them escape. We are holding Lady Apollonia.”
Theodor’s mouth was a taut line, and he gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. “I believe,” he said carefully, “that it would be right for the elected representatives to decide their fate.”
<
br /> “There ought to be a well-documented trial conducted as tightly within your legal framework as possible.” Sianh hadn’t said a word as we’d quarreled, but now that a clear direction was reached, he added his guidance. “This is the beginning. It must be clean.”
“Clean.” Niko snorted. “Nothing about this has been clean, Serafan.”
“I know much of war. I know it is not clean. But you, as governors, must be.”
“Governors. I rather like that title,” Kristos said.
“Don’t get too attached,” I said. “The council will be deciding how long you’re keeping it.”
“And,” Niko said with his cockeyed grin, “how long the nobles and royals in our custody keep their heads.”
57
THE COUNCIL OF COUNTRY CONVENED THE NEXT MORNING IN THE open hall of the Public Archive to deliberate over the first major decision of the new Republic of Galitha: what was to be done with the leaders of the Royalists. I watched the debates, Niko’s impassioned oration in favor of swift execution, several more cautious arguments about the lack of precedent for executing surrendered enemies, an extremely dull exposition on the history of treason trials in Galitha from a lawyer named Maurice Forrest, and an earnest appeal to justice from Vernon Harrel, the southern soldier I had last spoken to in Hamish’s field hospital at Westland Hall.
By late morning, all the members of the council who wished to have a voice in the debate had done so. There were tentative forays into legal debate and confident assertions of pragmatic concerns. I had promised Polly that I would offer some advocacy for the fair treatment of the prisoners. As individuals. I took a shaky breath. I had no vote, but the council would entertain opinions from the gallery before proceeding to a vote.
I stood. “Governors, permission to speak.”
Kristos started, surprised not that I was there, but that I would add my voice to public debate. A lot had changed since the last time we had that opportunity, I thought ruefully. “Granted,” he said.
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