Page 35 of A Court of Masks and Roses (Royal Scout #1)

VIOLET

B ehind the heavy curtain of King Firehorn’s study, Violet’s heart fluttered like a butterfly.

The air hung heavy with heat and dust and the familiar staleness of aged velvet.

Violet took a steadying breath and pressed herself into the deep windowsill.

She was getting a bit large for her nook now, but perhaps that was all right.

The Goddess had been preparing her for this moment for a long time, teaching her how to hide and listen.

How to put her invisibility and unimportance to good use.

The men on the other side of the curtain resumed speaking on the heels of silence.

And it was the Goddess’s own hand, Violet was certain, that guided her to take out the memory crystal now.

Reaching into her pocket with a trembling hand, Violet pulled out the precious pouch Brother Joshua had entrusted her with and peeled back the cloth to expose the crystal in time for Firehorn’s first words.

“What would it take?” The ghost of surrender in the king’s voice chilled Violet’s bones. “For you to stay, for the war to end?”

A pause. Long, pregnant, and devastating.

“Sylthia,” Envoy Jajack said steadily. “All of it, including the few acres that Everett did not conquer in the original assault. Dansil will surrender all claims to the territory and its resources, stop any attempt to regain the lands, and officially announce that Sylthia is forever a province of Everett.”

“That isn’t a negotiation,” Firehorn barked. “That’s—”

“It’s a price,” the envoy said coolly. “Reparations for allowing Viva Sylthia terror mongers to thrive under your reign, to kill Prince Rune and assault Princess Raza in the midst of a ceasefire.”

“Stars. Do you realize what you are asking, Jajack?”

Jajack’s voice softened. “Political statements aside, this is far from a bad offer, Firehorn. With the rise of the Order of the Goddess in Dansil, your people use so few living crystals that, frankly, purchasing what you need would be cheaper and safer than mining it yourselves in Sylthia. The black powder used in the mines kills the workers as often as not. Dansil needs fresh blood; it needs its soldiers and miners home, working fields and raising families. You’ve not the people to spare to fight for a slab of land that Dansil has no use for. ”

Violet’s stomach tightened at Jajack’s honeyed words. How conveniently the man failed to mention the Dark God guiding Everett’s hand in expanding his domain. And the punishment Dansil would endure for allowing evil to thrive.

Firehorn drew a sharp breath. “Bastard,” he spat. “Sylthia is our land, Jajack. You invaded.”

“Sylthia was your land until we conquered it twenty years ago.” Jajack’s unapologetic voice is firm but not altogether unkind. “Now it is ours.”

“Then let us split it,” said Firehorn .

“No.”

Violet’s small hand around the memory stone became slippery with sweat. On the other side of the curtain, a tap tap tap of pacing footsteps, then a creak of wood taking weight. A familiar sound. Violet’s birth father settling into his favorite, aged chair.

“What you must decide, Firehorn,” Envoy Jajack continued, “is how much more pain you are willing to inflict on Dansil to continue to deny reality.”

Firehorn’s answer, when it finally came, was barely a whisper. “Viva Sylthia wants Sylthia returned to Dansil. If I announce that I’ve given up the struggle for the territory altogether, Viva will raze my cities.”

“It’s that bad?” asked Jajack.

“Yes.”

A slow release of breath. “In that case, I can commit to a peacekeeping force from Everett. Soldiers who would come under your command and protect Dansil from unrest. We can have them in place before the announcement.”

No, Violet wanted to shout. You know nothing of what you say. Sylthia and its crystals belong to the Goddess.

But Firehorn did not know he was negotiating with the Dark God himself. So instead of running from the room, the king chuckled without humor. “And what assurance do I have that these peacekeepers, once allowed into the heart of Dansil, will not decide to put an Everett flag on my palace?”

“You have my word,” said Jajack. “And the fact that capturing Dansil, with its Drought and terror mongers, its Order of the Goddess tramps and shattered economy, would be the height of folly for Everett. We want Sylthia, as we always have, for its living crystals. The rest of Dansil is yours.”

“I need more than your word.”

“Very well. Princess Raza will remain in Dansil as your ward for however long an Everett peacekeeping force remains inside your borders. Solid collateral, is it not?”

“It is,” Firehorn agreed.

“The offer expires as soon as I walk from these doors. What say you?”

Silence. One heartbeat. Two. Ten. Hope bubbled in Violet’s dry throat.

And then shattered into a million shards that pierced her soul.

“Write your dispatch to Everett,” said Firehorn. “We will announce peace the moment your soldiers arrive.”

Violet didn’t remember the next hours. How long her birth father remained in his study after the Dark God’s disciple departed.

How much longer she remained behind the velvet curtain, tears silently sliding down her face.

How she made it back to the temple. She just knew that it all happened. And that there was a reason for it.

She knelt on the plush rug before the Messenger, trying to keep her eyes piously on the ground as Brother Joshua had instructed.

It was hard. A large crystal, like a miniature Eye of the Goddess, hung suspended from the ceiling and bathed the room in ethereal light.

Violet wanted to look at it, but she wanted to touch the bishop even more, for in doing so, she would touch the Goddess herself.

“Welcome, Child.” Bahir’s voice was deep and fatherly. “Brother Joshua and I were just grieving for two young acolytes who fled our temple early this morning, lured by the Dark God to their damnation. The joy of your visit is most timely.”

Despite having sat beside the bishop at many formal dinners, it was only now that Violet really heard him. Because she was ready.

Bahir took Violet’s hands. His were rougher than Violet had expected, with callouses that spoke of labor, not luxury. But they were also warm and strong, with love flowing through them right into Violet’s blood. “You followed Brother Joshua’s instructions?” Bahir asked.

Violet swallowed. If her birth father ever learned what she’d done... Violet shook her head violently, clearing the Dark God’s veil. “Yes. I hid in the king’s study and triggered the memory stone when Envoy Jajack came in.”

“Give it to me.” Bahir held out his palm, letting Violet lay the stone upon it. With a murmured prayer, Bahir closed his hand around the stone. It flickered once, then sprang to life, and the damning words imprinted in the crystal’s magic filled the room.

Violet only realized she was shaking when the Messenger placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “You did well, Child,” Bahir said softly. “You did very well.”

Violet swallowed. “What shall we do now?”

The Messenger smiled warmly at her. Rising, he placed his palm against the miniature sun, the metal of his ring clanging melodically.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened them again, he extended his palm flat, a sword made of pure light hovering above it. “Now, we shall save Dansil.”