Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

By the next day, the madness following the colosseum attack had been tamped. While the number of soldiers around them doubled, particularly those from Wrultho, all seemed as normal as an election could.

Except for Amalie, who hadn’t said a word to her.

Vaasa walked with Koen, Kier, and Elijah down the hallways of the High Temple of Dihrah, Reid at her side, gazing upon the artwork of some of Icruria’s finest artists. This impressive display happened at every election— a display of culture , Kier called it with delight. It was the final daytime event of the election before the actual vote itself. Tomorrow was reserved for negotiations and meetings, though those had been going on in back rooms for two days now, and then Kier’s final choice for entertainment for the last night. The following morning, the vote would occur at midday and the celebration of the new headman would begin. The elected headman wouldn’t formally take over until three months from now, though the capital would begin the process of moving.

As Vaasa took in the stunning works from all over the nation, she couldn’t help but wonder about Freya. Had she placed her work in this traditional exhibit, too? Artists worked for years on what they would display at the election, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw private buyers bickering over their not-so-silent bids.

Behind them, Ton’s men shuffled forward, crowding around their foreman like they suspected a fight.

Burly as ever, the foreman of Wrultho stalked forward with his many armed escorts.

Reid went rigid at her side. “Ton.”

“Reid.”

Kier looked between them, and then Elijah delicately placed his hand upon his husband’s arm and led him to a painting Vaasa doubted was more important than the rest of them.

Koen, however, stayed put.

Vaasa raised her brows, but she certainly didn’t argue. Especially when Reid gripped his onyx blade and winked at the soldiers waiting by the wall.

Koen stood with a look so neutral he could have been Marc, staring at the colorful painting in front of him. One thing in particular struck her: Hunt of Wrultho was not with Ton, which meant the foreman of Wrultho didn’t want his councilor directing him.

“You want to speak in the middle of this exhibit, Ton?” Reid said quietly.

Ton slid his eyes to Vaasa, jaw tight. Her magic swirled in her defensively at the implications between them.

“He believes I had something to do with yesterday’s events,” she said.

“I’ve heard the whispers of this witch ,” Ton sneered. “I have experience with her kind.”

Vaasa’s magic threaded unhappily at the subtle dig at Amalie, even if she had no right. Especially after last night.

Reid froze. “What do you think you know of my consort?”

“The thing did not attack you once she got involved. Why?”

“Maybe it was smarter than you,” Reid said fluidly as he pulled Vaasa closer to his side, “and it knew who to be afraid of.”

“I am not the only one who has yet to learn that lesson,” Ton snapped. He had more knowledge about magic than most, given his authority in his own city, which hosted the very coven of witches Vaasa desperately needed to speak to. The hostility in his body language revealed her request wouldn’t be granted, so while it sat on the tip of her tongue, she didn’t dare ask.

Koen chuckled, stepping around everyone to cut the tension and casually peer at another painting. “Do you believe you will win this election, Ton?”

“I will be the next headman of Icruria,” he confirmed.

Reid pursed his lips, and Vaasa tried not to chuckle.

“Even if you did manage to earn the vote of your predecessor, the drought in your city and the violence along your border makes Wrultho a last choice for the headmanship,” Koen said.

“The soldiers who flee to Dihrah share stories of sleeping in your empty waterways,” Reid added. “You do know that the councilors have heard such things?”

Ton’s large hands tightened on the hilt of his sword. Vaasa’s gaze trailed it. All the things she assumed about powerful men had been challenged by Reid and Koen. Yet when she looked at the foreman of Wrultho, she thought them all to be true.

“Luckily for you,” Mathjin finally said from the left, “we have a solution to both. Perhaps Wrultho will stand a chance at the end of Reid’s cycle.”

“Why would I bargain with a man who takes counsel from an Asteryan heiress?” Ton asked sincerely, though the undertone of distaste rode his words.

Vaasa brushed a piece of lint off her blouse as if she were bored. “I know nothing of the magic that struck yesterday. I would ask your city’s coven.”

“And if I don’t believe you?” Ton asked.

“You’re wasting much of your energy on something you can neither prove nor barter.” Vaasa met Ton’s eyes. “If I do know of that monster and you intend to harm my husband’s prospects, you’ll have no choice but to tell Hunt. How is your councilor going to feel when he learns of your history with Asterya?”

Just the smallest twitch of Ton’s left eye, and Vaasa knew she’d hit home. Hunt knew nothing. Given everything Amalie had told them last night, she wondered what exactly was going on in Ton’s corps and how it would inevitably play a role in the vote.

Reid began skimming Vaasa’s side with his hand, fingers moving up and down in that way of his she now realized was compensation for his nervousness. He touched her like this whenever he was thinking of what to say. Gauging his audience. “I’ve negotiated with the emperor of Asterya to bring down the dam.”

Ton shook his head. “There is no way he agreed to such a thing, and if he did, it is a lie.”

“He’s asking for a cessation of the violence,” Reid continued.

“Asterya began the violence,” Ton snarled. “They slaughtered our people. They’ve been decimating the border for half a decade. If you’re married to her , you know this truth already.”

A few heads turned, and as if on cue, some of Ton’s corps circled around them closer. Why he’d chosen to have this discussion in public was unclear, but Vaasa wondered if it was because any private discussion would inevitably include Hunt.

Had this foreman made a single decision on his own?

It was Hunt’s job to advise Kier, not Ton.

“Which is why we don’t want to suggest that you lay down your arms,” Reid said. “Instead, you should move your forces farther east and prepare to strike.”

Ton started at the words, lips parting then slamming shut.

“And once you’ve eliminated their company, take down the dam yourself.”

Shock tumbled across Ton’s face. “So your wife can betray us all?”

Koen entered the conversation again. “You don’t have to trust her. Though by my assessment, you don’t have much of a choice. Your people are dying, and your territory cannot compete. I know some of your own soldiers who have abandoned their posts and fled.”

Ton waited a moment before responding, stubbornness ever present in the tight hold of his shoulders. Finally, he muttered, “Those men are cowards.”

What a naive, foolish man.

Koen continued. “Send your dissenters to Mireh, then. We will foster a negotiation with Sigguth to get the ships you need to navigate these shallower waters, at least until the dam comes down. The ships will create jobs for the people you cannot sustain. Reid will set aside plots of land for them to cultivate, and with the new ships, trade should flow without an issue.”

Reid started again with that pace along Vaasa’s side, neutrality dripping from his lips, no longer even pretending to stare at the painting. “By the next cycle, Wrultho may very well contend for the headmanship. You’d put an end to the dam, to any dissent in your own territory, and potentially to this war with Asterya. You’d have a constant supply of food and a new, working relationship with three foremen. That would be your legacy, Ton.”

“What’s to stop me from endorsing the foreman of Sigguth and bargaining for my own ships directly?” Ton dared ask.

Koen grunted, crossing his arms. “And build them where? There is no water if you don’t move those soldiers.”

Despite what Ton probably wanted to admit, Koen had a damning point. What Koen didn’t say was simple: Sigguth would not bargain with Wrultho unless Mireh helped sanction it—the coastal territory went where the salt was. No port would give Ton access if Mireh didn’t.

Reid hadn’t been lying when he’d said salt built empires.

The resentment teeming in Ton’s eyes told Vaasa the foreman already knew all of this. Turning to him, she said, “My brother will lay waste to you before you can solve this drought. You do know that, right?”

Ton lifted his chin like he didn’t believe her. Was he so proud a man he thought himself invincible, or would he not listen just because it was she who spoke?

They’d offered him something any reasonable leader would take. But Ton was not a reasonable leader.

“You want to see your country fail?” Ton asked. “Is that the sort of loyalty you will show Icruria if they are enough of a fool to let you anywhere near the headmanship? You abandoned your own country—”

“It is no longer my country,” Vaasa interrupted smoothly, keeping a harsh check on the magic trying to pulse out of her. Instead, she let it bubble along her fingertips and dart away in little whips of darkness, creeping along Reid’s arm where he touched her. Ton’s eyes dropped to it, practically salivating at its power despite having insulted her for it earlier. “I am the great-granddaughter of one of the most powerful Veragi witches known to this world, and she made her home in Mireh.”

Ton’s eyes went wide.

“I did not abandon my country,” Vaasa said. “I came home.”

Reid’s lips parted and he craned his neck to look down at her, his expression less readable than it had ever been. She’d never said it aloud—had never claimed Icruria or Mireh as hers. Yet her magic settled confidently in her stomach and hissed out of existence once more.

And she realized that while her show just now had been calculated, it wasn’t untrue.

Ton pressed backward and pretended to stare at the painting again, though something new threaded in the corner of his eye. That same inkling she’d seen earlier, and now she knew what to call it.

Lust. Not for her, but for the power he had just seen emanate from her. He’d probably looked just like this the first time he saw what Amalie was capable of. It wasn’t safety for his people that Ton wanted for his legacy.

It was blood. Revenge. Violence.

Control.

“Many rulers would give far more than your husband has given for magic like that at their disposal,” he said.

Vaasa had to leash what she knew about him, what she wanted to say. “And yet you question an alliance with him?”

“I question an alliance with you.”

“I translated words, I did not write them. The outcome of your treaty was never mine to decide.”

At that, Ton pursed his lips. “I am more interested in how you intend to destabilize your own brother than I am in what your husband offers.”

“That would be for you and my husband to decide.” She slid her hand over Reid’s shoulder. “And that’s what you want, right? For my brother to shake when he hears your name? Asterya is not safe from us, and if you are to be our ally, it will not be safe from you, either.”

She knew men like Ton, had grown up around them and watched them play with the lives of others across tables and battlefields. They all sought the same thing. It was more than desire and greed that drove their menacing plots; it was a deep-rooted sense of worthlessness that made people crave power.

All she had to do was offer him a slice of value.

She could see it then: the images that danced behind his eyes. The fall of an empire, blood bathing the land he would claim for himself. Ton must have been able to hear the songs they would sing—of the foreman who took his wreckage of a land and turned it into fields of gold.

Because he smiled. “I want to start today. Let us decide where to move these troops. I want negotiations finalized by the vote.”

Reid nodded strongly. “I will set up a room this evening.”

And though Vaasa stayed silent, for the remainder of the day, she counted the sheer number of Wrultho soldiers walking about the High Temple.