“What if Delta Tarva’s brother supports her?” I ask. “What if he gives her an army to get her out of his hair? If she wins the Sintan throne, Alpha Tarva gains an ally next door. Together, they more than rival Fisa.”
Helen glances away, motherhood pulling her by its intangible thread. “It’s possible. I suggest you prepare for battle either way.”
A chill slips down my spine. Bodies strewn about me. Realms destroyed. “Acantha and her Drakons are coming for us, aren’t they?”
Helen shakes her head. She doesn’t know. “If they are, I don’t think it’s imminent. Delta Tarva is still sneaking delegations around Sinta, and the Tarvan royals have the upcoming Agon Games to prepare. As the hosts, I doubt they can make a move until the competition is over. The Games are too huge and popular to ignore.”
In other words, we have sufficient time to prepare. “Thank you for the warning.”
“What will you do?” she asks, poised to walk away.
I flash a ruthless smile that must remind Helen of the bad old days. “Watch out for snakes.”
CHAPTER 6
“Does your cousin really think Delta Tarva is going to attack us instead of making a bid for her brother’s throne?”
Piers brings an abrupt end to the usual fun of the family dinner. The brother between Griffin and Carver has permanent ink stains on his hands. He sometimes squints in the evenings because he reads so much. With his height, his black hair, and his slate-colored eyes, Piers would look a lot like Griffin if he gained muscle weight and was out in the sun more. To be fair, Piers takes his Gamma Team on patrol around Sinta City often enough, and he gets involved in training the soldiers from the barracks. He’s fit, he knows how to handle a sword and ride a horse, and he’s even second in command of the army under Griffin, but he’s essentially a scholar.
The others around the table—Griffin and his parents and siblings—all pause in their eating and talking to listen to my answer.
“It makes sense,” I say. “Tarvan mercenaries attacked us in the south with a hired Giant, which means spending a lot of gold. And someone tried again at Ios with an entire Tarvan tribe. That takes influence and deep pockets. Acantha Tarva has both. And now she’s trying to win over Sintan nobles, according to Helen. If that’s true, which I think it is, the realm dinner didn’t come a day too soon. The Magoi elite got to see you all in person and understand your goals and what you’re like. I think you gained significant support.” Thank the Gods. “That said, her plotting is still a problem.”
Griffin nods his agreement. We hardly had time to greet each other before we were summoned to dinner, and he’s still rumpled from two days of travel. He and Carver accompanied Helen and her family home, their escort proving a clear desire for further cooperation between the two families. For Agatone and Urania to throw their lot in with Delta Tarva after the new Sintan royals showed them such a sign of favor would be surprising and stupid. They’re not stupid.
“There’s a good chance Acantha is gathering her forces while she tries to weaken our position from the inside. If she hits us with a Tarvan army, her own Magoi, and ours, we’ll buckle.” Griffin balls his hand into a fist on the table. “My army is spread out protecting the realm. I lost hundreds of soldiers in a war we just won. You’re all vulnerable to magic, even if Cat and I aren’t.” He looks around the table, his expression shuttered. His ambition has never been selfish, but I sometimes wonder if he ever regrets bringing his family to this point. If it were me, I’d throw half of Sinta under a Cyclops to save the people around this table, but Griffin doesn’t think that way.
“Aren’t you recruiting?” I ask Piers. Last I heard, he’d amassed a significant number of soldiers, mostly Hoi Polloi eager for the opportunities of advancement and employment available in a newly structured realm.
He nods. “I go to Velos and Kaplos next week. Skathos after that. Then I’ll move farther south.”
“Having soldiers doesn’t make an army,” Griffin says in frustration. “Not a good one, anyway. They’ll need to be armed, trained, dispatched…”
Piers stiffens. “I know. We talked about this. I have plans. You approved them.”
Griffin stares into his wineglass and then moves it away from him, the contents untouched. “It’ll take too long.”
“Acantha Tarva, assuming it was her, just came off a resounding defeat at Ios.” Egeria, with her dovelike nature and quiet gray eyes, calmly passes the vegetables as if we were talking about the weather. I still don’t think Griffin’s older sister should be Alpha, the role requiring a certain amount of ruthlessness as well as mercy, but she’s repeatedly proved herself more capable than I gave her credit for at first.
“Acantha will need time to regroup, and if the realm dinner went half as well as we think it did, we’ll have foiled her efforts with a number of Sintan nobles,” Egeria continues. “Our most powerful Magoi will look to Agatone and Urania for guidance. We just delivered Helen’s baby—their grandchild. That newborn boy landed in my hands, and he’s healthy and fine. Helen has her husband wrapped around her finger, and if she volunteered this information to Cat, she supports us. They will support us.”
“I agree with Egeria,” I say.
Everyone looks at me. When I don’t add but or except, Egeria looks pleasantly surprised.
Anatole finishes his last bite. When he’s up and about, Griffin’s father does everything with lightning speed, including eat. His aging body no longer holds the muscle and power it once had, but it’s easy to see how he was once one of the most formidable warlords in all of Sinta. His sly, sparkling gaze holds a wealth of intelligence, cunning, and experience.
“Piers should stick to his plan. Keep recruiting.” Anatole looks first at Piers and then at Griffin. “In the meantime, secure the border.”
Griffin spreads his hands, leaning back. “With what army? There aren’t enough trained soldiers yet. I can’t take anyone away from Sinta City, and there are barely enough people stationed elsewhere. If the major cities fall, the rest of Sinta falls, too.”
“Invading forces can’t get to cities if they can’t cross the border,” Anatole reasons. “Put our soldiers where we need them the most.”
Griffin shakes his head. “Too risky. It’s a good idea, but it’ll never work. Foot soldiers can’t move fast enough to cover the entire border. There’ll be huge gaps to get through.”
“What if they’re mounted?” Jocasta asks.
“There aren’t enough horses,” Griffin and I say at once.
“I have two horses,” Kaia volunteers. Always eager and full of energy, she shifts forward in her seat. “You can have mine.”
Her spontaneous offer sends a stab of something hot and twisting through my chest. I wouldn’t offer up my horse now, and I certainly wouldn’t have done it at fifteen. Griffin’s youngest sister is a constant surprise to me. Her straight dark hair and gray eyes mirror Egeria’s—although with a touch more blue and a good deal more fierceness in Kaia’s youthful gaze, there’s nothing subdued about her. I’ll bet she battles Dragons in her daydreams.
Next to her, Nerissa takes Kaia’s hand. In turn, Anatole takes Nerissa’s. Husband and wife. Parents and daughter.
Emotion swells inside of me. Is it envy? Sadness? It expands in a rush, and I don’t think it’s either. I’m pretty sure it’s something much more dangerous and frightening than mere self-pity. I think it’s a deep, stomach-hollowing longing accompanied by a terrifying sense of hope. That could be me. Not the daughter. That ship sank on Poseidon’s sea a long time ago. Not the daughter…but the mother.
“I know two isn’t many, but what if everyone around Sinta did the same? We could…rent the animals and then give them back once the danger passed.” Kaia’s face brightens. “I could be in charge of that.”
For reasons I don’t fully understand, my throat is suddenly too thick for breath.
&nb
sp; Anatole gives her a patient smile. “That’s a generous offer, glikia mou.”
His sweet. I love how the southern tribes retained the old endearments, things that northerners never seem to say.
Kaia sighs. “But…”
“But people depend on their horses for their livelihoods. It’s almost harvest time. There won’t be a horse, ox, or mule to spare for the next two months. Taking animals now could not only chip away at the goodwill Sintans feel toward us, but also endanger our entire food supply.”
Kaia slumps in her chair. “That’s what the royals did before. They just took everything, and we hated them.”
Jocasta nudges a pair of cheese-stuffed olives around her plate. “So where does that leave us? Building the army and hoping it functions properly before Acantha decides to invade?”
“Yes.” Piers reaches over and steals her olives.
“There is something else.” I glance at Griffin, sure he remembers our conversation about gaining the assistance of creatures. “Something we could try.”
I sense Griffin’s mood souring even before his eyes settle on mine like boulders, and he was already pretty tense. I’m undaunted. Mostly.
I hazard on. “If we have magical creatures patrolling the border, it’ll send a clear message to the other realms, and even to our own people. Strength. Power. Boldness. It’ll be proof of resources they didn’t think we had. It’ll make them wonder what else we have in our arsenal, which, in turn, will make them hesitant to cross us. Creatures move fast, their hearing is acute, they’re huge and intimidating. A herd of Ipotane, for example, could block Sinta behind a nearly impenetrable wall.”
Egeria looks bemused. “But we don’t have any Ipotane.”
“Not yet.” I sip my wine. It’s white and tart.
“It means going to Fisa.” Griffin’s voice is like a gathering storm. “I don’t want you anywhere near there. Near her.”
Mother. Yes, she is a delight. I set down my glass. “You want to conquer Thalyria. That includes Fisa. What do you expect me to do while you’re at it? Ignore my Dragon’s Breath? My ability to turn invisible? To detect lies? To steal magic? Sit on my knowledge of creatures and royals and Oracles? Play with my knives instead of using them? Just wait for you? I might as well go back to the circus,” I say hotly. “At least I’d be entertained.”
I glare at Griffin. Griffin glares back.
“Should I lounge around eating sweets and fanning myself all day?” I ask. “Maybe in my nightgown? If I get bored, I’ll call in some pages to distract me.”
A muscle jerks in Griffin’s jaw. Maybe I went too far.
“You can steal magic?”
“Turn invisible?”
“Detect lies?”
The questions come from around the table. Damn it! I forgot I was keeping all that a secret from everyone except for the members of Beta Team. Besides Griffin and Carver, everyone in the royal family thinks I’m simply a soothsayer, reading people in some mystical way.
In the next second, I realize I don’t care. I trust them. Betraying me would mean betraying Griffin, and his family would never do that. I keep that knowledge close, just like the knowledge that Griffin loves me, no matter what. We both get angry. We both get over it. In the meantime, maybe I can get him to spank me.
I turn invisible to hide a completely inappropriate grin.
Gasps!
I pop back into sight when my face is under control.
“Really useful,” I announce. “In case you were wondering why I showed up so late, I spent half the realm dinner night invisible and detecting lies. I get burned to a crisp on the inside every time I hear a falsehood, and then the truth slams into me like vicious little punches all over my body, especially my head. It was a hoot.”
The family gapes at me—which is always satisfying.
I turn back to Griffin. His expression is stony and unreadable, although if I had to take a wild guess, I’d say it was tending toward ominous.
“I’m not staying here to write sonnets to Cerberus,” I tell him. “I’m called the Kingmaker for a reason. I go with you.”
Griffin’s eyes darken. He flashes me a look that promises…something.
“The Kingmaker,” Piers echoes with a jolt.
Heard of me, has he? I’m not surprised. He reads a lot of old scrolls.
“Go where exactly?” Egeria asks, her now worried gaze shifting back and forth between Griffin and me.
“To the Ice Plains,” Griffin replies stiffly. “That’s where magical creatures are.”
His entire family erupts in unison. It’s impressive.
“But we have our own Ice Plains to the north,” Carver finally says over all the denials and arguing. “Why go all the way to Fisa?” He shakes his head in confusion, setting loose a few strands of jet-black hair that curve toward his angular jaw.
I think what he really means is why go anywhere near that death trap at all? Carver is an expert swordsman, lean, sinewy, and strong. He’s smart and fast, but magic leaves him out of his element—and possibly with no means of defense.
“Because the Ipotane could be anywhere from our northern border with the Ice Plains to Mount Olympus in the far northeast. We need someone to help us locate the herd and tell us how to ensnare it. A Chaos Wizard lives just over the Fisan border, on the south shore of the Frozen Lake. I think he can help us.” Or, more to the point, I hope the Gods will.
“What are Ipotane?” Kaia asks. She’s young, southern, and Hoi Polloi—all good reasons she’s never heard of the creatures.
“They’re like Centaurs, only fiercer. Bigger.” I look sternly at her from under lowered brows. “Something you never want to meet in the dark. Or the day.”
Kaia’s blue-gray eyes go wide and sparkle with curiosity. She giggles.
“A single blow from one of its massive hooves will crush a man’s rib cage. A human skull doesn’t stand a chance. One flick of its long tail feels like a hundred lashes from a stinging whip. Two flicks will flay the skin and muscle from your bones. They have glowing, amber eyes that can see farther than a hawk’s, and equine ears that can hear a man unsheathe his sword from a mile away. They don’t eat meat, but I’ve heard they bite.” I snap my teeth at Kaia, and she giggles again. I probably shouldn’t joke. Ipotane are no laughing matter.
“Have you seen one?” Kaia wiggles toward the edge of her chair, as if chasing down a herd of murderous Ipotane sounds like a fine idea to her.
“Not yet.”
“Then how do you know?” she asks.
I think the smile that twists my face must scare her a little because her eyes lose some of their eager glitter. “Bedtime stories.” I leave out Mother’s favorite part—how if I didn’t rat out someone’s lies, she would stir a herd of Ipotane into a frenzy and then drop me into the middle of it, weaponless and alone.
Nerissa gives me a disapproving look, sweeping it to Griffin next. “These don’t sound like creatures you should approach.”
“That’s why we need the Chaos Wizard,” I explain. “So we don’t blunder around and get ourselves killed.”
“Chaos. Sounds like fun. Not very reassuring, though.” Carver picks up a goat cheese–filled phyllo wrap and inspects it with a critical eye. “Can’t we find a Tell-Them-What-They-Want-To-Know Wizard?” he asks.
I push my own wrap to the far side of my plate because goat cheese—gah! “Life would be too easy if we had any of those,” I say dryly.
“What about an Oracle? They seem to like you.” Carver pops the goaty atrocity into his mouth.
I shrug. “I’ve seen two, and neither of them killed me.” In fact, they were more than helpful. “But Oracles are about judgment and doling out magic, weapons, or death. You can’t just ask questions and get answers. And a Chaos Wizard isn’t—”
“He has nothing to do with wreaking havoc o
r creating disorder,” Piers interrupts me.
I blink. Set down my fork. “Perhaps you’d like to finish my explanation for me?” I ask sarcastically.
Piers does, as if that were a real invitation. “In this case, the word reverts to its original meaning. Before the cosmos took shape, there was only Chaos—a whirling mass without form.”
“I just had this lesson!” Kaia exclaims. “From Chaos, Gaia emerged. Her son, Uranus, fashioned the first world. From the two of them, all life was made.”
Piers nods. “Their children, among others, were the Titans. The Titans birthed our Olympians.”
“Then the Titans and the Olympians warred. I’m not sure why.” Kaia’s face falls. “My tutor hasn’t gotten to that part yet.”
I jump in before Piers can. “The Titan king was so intent on maintaining his power that he started swallowing his babies whole to keep them from growing up and overthrowing him. Poseidon, Hades, their sisters—they all went right down the hatch, unharmed, but gone. No one liked that, especially not Zeus, who escaped being eaten and then freed his siblings. He slipped his father a potion that made the Titan king vomit everyone back up. The New Gods and the Old fought bitterly and for a small eternity before Zeus and his brothers finally killed their father. Their victory ushered in the new age.”
Piers looks at me like he can’t quite believe I just summed up the longest, most important war in the history of the universe in a few sentences. I smirk. I’m clever like that.
“After winning the War of Gods,” Piers adds, apparently needing the last word, “Zeus banished the Titans to Tartarus.”
Ah, Tartarus. Those Olympians don’t fool around with eternal torment. They have a whole realm just for that. “Actually,” I say, because I can’t help needling Piers with information he left out, undoubtedly to simplify matters for us idiots around the table, “Cronus, the Titan king, got to go to Elysium, even though he didn’t deserve it, and his war leader, Atlas, was cursed to hold up the heavens for all of eternity.”
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