Page 72

More magic. More people. And if the first could be achieved only at the cost of my conscience …

More people.

I stared at the figurines on the table as that little seedling of a thought exploded in my mind, growing roots and branches in less than the time it took to gasp. Empty stretches on the map. Entire islands left unaccounted for—

‘Em?’ Lyn’s voice reached me from ages away.

‘Humans.’ It fell from my lips like the answer to a prayer. ‘The human isles. Is there any particular reason we haven’t asked them to join us yet?’

I looked up from the table to find three pairs of eyes staring blankly at me.

Lyn’s had widened. Tared’s had narrowed. Naxi didn’t appear to have heard me at all, rocking back and forth in her little bubble of misery. Agenor, on the other hand, blinked and blinked again, as if someone had whacked him over the head from behind and he was still trying to figure out where his memory of the last two minutes had gone.

But next to me, without missing a beat, Creon got to his feet and leisurely picked up his bag again. More and more figurines settled on the map under his quick fingers, filling the gaps between the clusters of blue and black and yellow and green – white ones, this time.

White. No magic at all.

‘They don’t have any of our powers,’ Agenor said as the thought was still forming itself in my mind, his voice sharp with exhaustion. ‘It would be rather heartless to drag them into a battle of magical peoples if they barely stand a chance of survival.’

A laugh was rising in me – the triumphant, violent kind, a laugh that could tear walls apart. ‘You don’t have functioning magic either at the moment.’

He blinked again. ‘No, but—’

‘And they have the numbers.’ I felt almost dizzy, nodding at the batches of white forming under Creon’s hand – so, so much white. ‘There are more humans on Rhudak alone than there are vampires in all of the archipelago. And then there’s the northern islands. Ildhelm and its neighbours. The cities on Orthune. If you take all of that—’

‘If,’ Tared said slowly, leaning forward in his seat. ‘But even if they’re all willing to join, there’s no central authority of the sort most magical peoples have. We could waste weeks we don’t have trying to convince every little village to send a handful of their people.’

‘No, that’s true. Officially, at least.’ Somehow, the fact didn’t slow down my mind in the slightest. My thoughts were spinning all over that map, digging deep into memories I’d buried with the life I’d left behind – village politics, votes on the market square, every island and every city fending for itself. ‘But even if they’re not formally allied, every single human will be looking at what the White City is doing. If we could gettheirsupport, we’d be halfway there.’

All gazes shot to the northernmost edge of the archipelago, where Creon was stoically planting white figurine after white figurine – so many of them, all clustered at that coveted east side of their island.

The city.

The high-walled paradise I’d dreamed of every frightful day and every hungry night, in a life that seemed an eternity behind me already.

‘Yes,’ Agenor admitted, ‘but—'

‘And they don’t all need to join.’ My thoughts were racing at breakneck speed, entire lines of argument springing out of nowhere, fully formed and ready to defend themselves. ‘Even if, say, a quarter of the human isles agreed to help us, that would make a significant difference, wouldn’t it? Imagine if a quarter of her empire suddenly refuses to hand over the food tributes. She’llhaveto send people after that, no matter how much she needs them at the Crimson Court.’

‘But they would have to take an enormous risk to rebel like that,’ Agenor murmured, rubbing a hand over his chin. ‘The White City has always refused to get involved. So why would any of the human isles suddenly stick out their necks for us if—’

Creon’s hand landed on the table with a hollow thwack. ‘Suddenly?’

Even Naxi jolted, juddering away from his tall figure with dewy blue eyes and an audible gasp. I whipped around to find him stiffened in his place beside me, bag still dangling from his left hand, wings flaring out behind his shoulders – signs of crumbling self-restraint if his gritted jaw and terse breath had not yet spoken for themselves. Around his right hand, figurines rolled away from his fingers, the faint, scratching sound all that broke the abrupt quiet that had descended over us.

Creon didn’t seem to notice. His gaze had fixed itself upon Agenor with the sting of a thousand daggers, burning holes into my father’s skin.

‘Creon?’ Lyn whispered. ‘Creon, are you—'

He didn’t seem to notice her, either.

‘Youidiot.’ He hurled the words into Agenor’s face with a fury that stole the breath from my lungs – gloriously genuine, no princely indifference or cruel delight in sight. ‘It’s been that easy for you, hasn’t it? To sit in your office all day and read the fucking reports, nod at the fucking numbers, and give yourfucking commands?Thateasy to pretend it was peace you were living in, not a war you had simply moved out of your sight?’

Ringing silence filled the room.

Agenor’s eyes had widened, a shock on his face that would have been comical if I hadn't been fighting a similar expression. What in the world was happening? This wasn’t the threat of the Silent Death, ruthless and confident and lethally elegant. This was the raw, barely suppressed anger of the bruised and broken soul below, a glimpse beneath the mask I hadn't even dared todreamof a week ago, and what in the world had sparked this outburst in a company he rarely even allowed to see him smile?

‘What—’ Agenor started.