Chapter 12

Senate sessions were never Soren's favorite things to sit through. The minutiae of politics was dry and cutting, the veiled threats and promises hidden between words and behind smiles enough to give a person a headache. Lore seemed to thrive in it, despite not knowing the language spoken all around them, but she was savvy enough to leave the discussions up to Dariush when their opinion was needed.

The Ashionen delegation had claimed the ambassador table on the Senate floor that day. Soren sat with them when he would have preferred the seat beside Taisiya up on the mezzanine where the Houses watched the proceedings unfold. His concession was to wear the uniform of a warden and not any of the finery the Ashionens had dressed in for their day in the political spotlight.

"Far more cutthroat than Ashion," Lore murmured in the trade tongue, quiet enough that only Soren heard her.

"The Houses play their games, the Senate writes the laws, and the emperor rules over them all," Soren replied.

It was a generalized explanation for the intricate culture—both socially and politically—that ran Solaria's government. Lore made a soft, wordless sound before leaning toward Dariush, who sat on her other side, speaking quietly in rapid Ashionen. Soren tuned them out and focused on the proceedings that provided a cacophony of voices echoing through the Senate chambers. Amidst it all, Vanya was a calm center, flanked by his Legion generals, who, despite their earlier reservations, were aligned with his desires.

"It is not our House that owes the Ashionens. Solaria as a whole should not have to pay for your mistakes," Lady Vesper Aetos, of the House of Aetos, said imperiously from the mezzanine at one point.

"It is your House that attempted to murder me in Oeiras just the other day," Vanya replied in a bored voice, which effectively made Vesper snap her teeth together.

"My House takes offense to your slanderous accusation."

"The proof sits in a jail cell back in Oeiras, one that married into your House as of three years ago. Your noted alliance with the House of Kimathi and now an attempted assassination makes me wonder how much of your House is against Solaria's sovereignty."

The ensuing argument that resulted from Vanya's biting words lasted almost an hour, dragging other Houses into the verbal fray. Soren wisely stayed out of it, and Dariush did the same, even when Lore wondered if they should perhaps engage more than they were.

"No," Soren told her firmly. "The Houses need to be brought to a consensus."

"I thought you said the emperor had the sole power to declare war?" she asked.

"He does, but he'll want the Houses supporting that decision, or they'll try to murder him again. If that happens, the debt he owes dies with him, and Ashion will not get the Legion."

Lore seemed a bit taken aback by that but dutifully stayed quiet and stopped pestering Dariush about politics that weren't hers.

The midday meal was eaten in the Senate chambers, with grilled meat wraps delivered to everyone present, along with sweet red wine that some senators drank more of than was probably polite. The heat of the spices used to flavor the meat made Lore gulp down more water than anyone else at their table. Soren enjoyed the taste of it, having missed the flavors he'd grown to love while at the Warden's Island and in Ashion. The food was eaten, and the arguing continued, every conceivable side pressing their point and hoping for neutrality in the face of the vow, only to be waylaid by Vanya's grim determination to see a debt paid and a war won.

Soren wasn't surprised when the Houses attempted to cast him in a negative light. He didn't defend himself beyond his stated remarks that he'd chosen to become Caris' heir in order to save Maricol because that was the only way the wardens would survive.

"You regret the sanctions owed by your major Houses and the tithes Solaria will have to pay, but tell me," Soren said when pressed. "How will you keep your cities safe when the influx of revenants is clawing at your walls? Will you be the ones to go into the poison fields and fight the walking dead? I did my duty for the wardens and for Maricol. Solaria allying itself with Ashion is how we ensure Maricol survives. We had an Age of Separation for a reason."

It was a prudent point that Vanya ran with and which his generals emphasized. The politicking went on well into the evening, long past when the sun had set. In the end, Vanya signed off on the declaration of war with the backing of two-thirds of the Senators, which meant as many Houses were in agreement as well.

It wasn't a unanimous agreement, but it was more than enough for Vanya to count it as a win. When the session finally ended, Vanya made his way to the ambassador table, accepting Dariush's respectful bow with a regal nod. Chu Hua stood at his left and offered a shallow bow as well to the ambassador.

"The broadsheets will announce the declaration of war in the morning. My generals will need to be in contact with your commanders who handle Ashion's war effort," Vanya said.

"I will go with the generals tonight in order to provide the requested information. I can't begin to thank you enough on behalf of my queen for your support, Your Imperial Majesty," Dariush replied.

"I'm not doing it for her."

Soren's name went unspoken, but Dariush's gaze flicked briefly toward him. "Be that as it may, Your Imperial Majesty. Ashion is in your debt."

"I know." Vanya nodded at Soren. "Let us depart."

"You aren't staying?" Lore asked in the trade tongue. "There's still much to discuss."

"I will come by the embassy in the morning," Soren replied.

They didn't need him to facilitate introductions between their military officers when Dariush had that task well in hand. Soren had done his part, risked his heart to see Caris have a chance to win this war. The Ashionens could celebrate their alliance without him.

Soren followed Vanya out of the Senate, both of them ushered into the waiting motor carriage by praetoria legionnaires. It was dark out, the gas lamps lit on every street they were driven down. Their return to the House of Sa'Liandel's ancestral estate was done in silence, Vanya having talked enough that his voice had turned rough by the end of the evening.

They passed by the sentinel-class automatons standing guard at the end of the street before pulling into the drive. Vanya tugged Soren out of the motor carriage and led him inside, where a servant met them with a small tray holding two steaming cups of tea to soothe their throats.

"Did my valide return?" Vanya asked.

"Hours ago, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant murmured. "Shall I fetch her?"

"Let her rest. We will speak in the morning."

They carried their tea with them to the bedroom Soren had slept in last night, where they'd made better memories to replace the ones from last year. Tonight, though, they were both tired from the long day in the Senate, and so Soren helped Vanya out of his robes out of a desire to sleep more than anything else.

Crawling into bed with Vanya still felt new, a delicate desire that had Soren rolling in close, tucking his head beneath Vanya's chin. He fell asleep to the sound of Vanya breathing, steady and perfect and alive.

Morning came with a packed schedule, one that Soren knew could not be waylaid by lingering in bed, no matter how drugging Vanya's kisses were.

"I need to get to the embassy," Soren said, reluctantly rolling away from Vanya's greedy hands.

"They have the Legion now. They do not need you," Vanya replied.

"Yes, well, I'd like to ring Caris and let her know I'll be staying in Solaria."

Vanya's arm snaked out to wrap around his waist, hauling Soren close again. Warm lips pressed a lingering kiss against the back of his neck, over the knob of his spine there. "You'll give up Ashion?"

Soren skimmed his hand over Vanya's arm, tangling their fingers together over his stomach. "It was never truly mine to give up."

They managed to extract themselves from each other and the bed, servants bustling in once Vanya rang for them to help him get ready for a day of meetings. Soren didn't need any assistance getting dressed. He pulled on his uniform, strapped on his weapons, and stole one more kiss from Vanya before heading for the door.

"I'll see you at dinner," Vanya called after him. "Raiah will expect you for the midday meal."

"I'll return before then."

Soren left, walking through the bustling hallways to the front entrance. A praetoria legionnaire had retrieved his velocycle from the garage, probably after being notified by a servant. Soren gave a nod in thanks before slinging his leg over the seat and starting the engine. He retrieved the helmet hanging off one of the handlebars and put it on, the malleable leather over thin metal plates settling around his skull. He fit the brass goggles over his eyes before kicking up the stand with his heel and driving off.

Calhames was a bustling city even that early in the morning in the civic center behind the first inner wall. When Soren made it to the Ashionen embassy, the front gates were unlocked and unguarded. He frowned at the drive beyond the wrought-iron gate, seeing no one outside manning the main entrance. The motor carriages were there, proof that no one had left yet despite the hour. Soren pulled his velocycle up to the gate and set the brakes before kicking down the stand, engine still running. He dismounted and pushed the gate open far enough that he could drive his velocycle through the space.

He parked beside one of the motor carriages and turned off the engine, removing his helmet and brass goggles. Soren left the velocycle behind and walked toward the embassy building. He found it, too, was unlocked, and Soren paused there on the threshold, frowning at the wooden door. Every instinct he had told him something was wrong, but he couldn't flee without knowing what lay beyond the threshold.

Soren reached over his right shoulder and unsheathed the poison short sword, flexing his fingers around the sturdy hilt, thumb resting over the button just beneath the cross guards. He didn't trigger any of the poison held inside the hilt, but it was an option.

He turned the knob with his left hand and pushed the door open on silent hinges, stepping inside. The gas lamps in their sconces were all burning down the hallway, as if no one had bothered to turn them off before heading to bed last night. But more concerning than the light was the body of a Royal Guard soldier lying on the floor of the foyer, the pool of blood spread around them appearing dark and tacky.

Soren had seen plenty of dead bodies over the years, and he knew enough to gauge the time of death for the poor soldier as hours ago rather than minutes. Soren tightened his grip on the hilt of his poison short sword, using his other hand to unholster the pistol on his left hip and thumbing off the safety without looking.

He stepped over the body, listening hard for any noise in the working front of the embassy. No sound came to him beyond the sputtering of the gas lamps he passed. Soren passed two more rooms—a library and receiving room—but only the receiving room held more bodies. Two diplomatic aides who had supported Dariush were sprawled on the floor, both of them victims of gunshot wounds.

He grimaced, heart sinking at the thought of what a political nightmare the murder of the Ashionen diplomatic envoy would be right after Vanya had agreed to join the war. The wise course of action might have been to leave or call the peacekeepers, but the clattering sound of something crashing to the floor in a room farther within the embassy had Soren's head snapping around.

It could be anything—someone dying, someone trying to hide, or a revenant risen from the murdered. Whatever it was, Soren knew he couldn't leave the premises without first checking it out. He left the receiving room and let his pistol lead him down the hallway, clearing every doorway he came to. When he reached the intersection of hallways at the end, he found a trail of bodies, the Royal Guards sprawled on the floor and against the wall, blood smeared everywhere. Beyond them, every door in the hallway was closed except for one.

Soren knew embassies were generally manned by quite a lot of diplomatic officers and aides, and he wondered if all of them were dead. He looked down the hallway and then glanced back the way he'd come. If everyone was dead, he needed to call in more wardens, notify the nearest star temple for transportation of the dead to the crematorium, but everything he knew he had to do got waylaid by the sound of a wavering voice calling out for help.

Lore's voice echoed in his ears, freezing Soren where he stood. Even if he couldn't understand the Ashionen words she spoke, he knew that tone of fearfulness all too well. Steeling himself, Soren crept down the hallway toward the open door, finger resting against the trigger guard of his pistol. He wasn't familiar with the building, though, and a step several breaths later made the wood beneath his feet creak.

The faint rustle of sound he'd heard in the room ahead cut off, and a voice he didn't recognize called out an order in Ashionen that he didn't understand. But the startled, terrified gasp from Lore was proof enough of the threat awaiting him in that room. Fleeing would only leave her to die, and she didn't deserve that. Soren steeled himself and didn't bother hiding his presence. He stepped into the doorway, forcing his expression to remain calm as he took in the scene before him.

The farce of a meeting over tea between Lady Lore and Lady Vesper of the House of Aetos was marred by the body of a diplomatic worker who, thankfully, wasn't Dariush but who hadn't died quickly or easily, judging by the ropy mess of intestines that hung outside their body from a hole carved into their midsection. The gag tied around their mouth had kept whatever screams they'd let loose muffled in their throat. Their hands and legs had been tied to the chair, the rug beneath the furniture stained and damp from blood and other fluids. Soren didn't know if the ambassador lay dead somewhere else in the embassy.

"Lay your weapons down, or her throat will be cut," Vesper said before sipping her tea, as if she fully expected Soren to comply.

Soren's gaze flicked to where Lore sat, pale-faced and stiff-spined, hands fisted over the skirt of her gown. Her head was tipped back, the sharp side of a knife held by a star priest pressed close to her skin. In the star priest's other hand was a clarion crystal–tipped wand, indicating command of the aether.

His slight hesitation had Vesper sighing irritably. "If you use starfire, she will die, Prince Alasandair Rourke."

He rather thought protesting that name and title would fall on deaf ears. "You have to know that murdering the Ashionen diplomatic delegation will not stop the Legion from going north to join the war."

"Perhaps not, but it will be a political land mine for the emperor to traverse. One you will not be present to see. Now, your weapons or her life."

He had no magician hiding him in shadow to sneak up on an unsuspecting target, not like when Artyom had held Raiah in the old Palace. Here, the star priest was one pound of pressure away from slitting Lore's throat, and Soren wouldn't be a warden if he let her die. The risk of setting either the star priest or Vesper on fire had to be weighed against the threat to an innocent life.

Telegraphing every move, Soren moved his finger away from the trigger and thumbed on the safety of his pistol even as he crouched to set his poison short sword on the floor. He set his pistol down as well before moving slowly to unholster the second one hanging off his right hip. He sat that pistol on the floor as well, then unsheathed the dagger on his thigh and dropped it next to his short sword. Only then did he straighten, eyes on Vesper.

The lady who was the voice for the House of Aetos appeared calm and composed, though her outfit wasn't one he'd ever seen her wear before. Gone were the light robes or breezy summer gowns favored by Solarians at the height of summer. In their place, she wore an Ashionen diplomatic uniform, and he wondered if she'd taken it from the premises or already had it before arriving. Either way, Soren knew enough of where her loyalties had lain in the past to see Joelle's interference in what had happened in the embassy.

"You won't kill Lore," Soren said slowly, studying Vesper. "Not here, and not now. The moment you do, you must know I will kill you."

Vesper smiled slightly at him, her gaze cold. "She is our assurance that you will comply with what we want."

Soren grimaced, well aware of how true that statement was. "What did Joelle offer you to have you betray your country so thoroughly?"

"There is no betrayal when the House of Sa'Liandel would see us fight for a land that is not ours. I won't help pay a debt that is not mine."

"Vanya is fighting for Maricol, of which Solaria is a part of."

"He's fighting to tear us apart, and I will not see my country ruined because of his House's wants. They've done enough damage, and it stops here."

"By murdering the Ashionen delegation and kidnapping Queen Caris' lady-in-waiting, a member of one of the oldest bloodlines in Ashion? Do you honestly think they won't demand retribution from Vanya for your actions?"

"My House will not be found at fault."

She spoke with such assuredness that Soren wondered if Joelle had been planning such an attack ever since the Ashionen ambassador started begging Solaria for help months ago. He didn't think so grandly of himself as to believe she'd orchestrated all these murders in order to kill him. Vesper and Joelle couldn't have known he would return or that he would return with such a past haunting his road.

No, Soren was certain whoever was meant to walk through the embassy's front doors was meant to die. But if his presence could keep Lore alive, then he would do his best to find his way out of such a difficult situation.

"Joelle aligned herself with Eimarille, and that betrayal will seep into your House as well. You can't call yourself Solarian if you're working with Joelle to tear your country apart."

Vesper set down her teacup with a careful hand, giving away nothing, ever a lady of a House. "You sleeping with the emperor doesn't make you Solarian, not when you're in bed with the Ashionens. I must admit, I hadn't expected your return to our capital, but your arrival certainly presented an opportunity we couldn't ignore."

Soren thought about the promise he'd given Vanya in bed that morning, about the meal he'd been looking forward to sharing, and all the years they'd promised each other if they could just see the war through to the end. All of it slipped away as the seconds were counted off by the clock on the wall, in a place filled with the dead, burying him not unlike he'd once been buried in the royal crypt.

His gaze flicked to Lore, who watched him with wide, watery eyes, a thin trickle of blood sliding down her throat from where the knife had nicked her skin. Her lips trembled, but she didn't beg. She wouldn't have understood the conversation happening around her, but she'd have understood the meaning behind him setting aside his weapons.

"And how do you think to get us out of Calhames and past the active war zone around the House of Kimathi's vasilyet?" Soren asked.

Vesper's smile was a slow, cruel thing, eyes shining with a victory that Soren refused to let her enjoy. She reached for a scrap of fabric on the table and lifted it up, the veil shimmering between her fingers. "One lie at a time."