Page 31 of The Flame

“How altruistic of them.” My sarcasm was dripping. “They’re happy to trade ovarian eggs from The Smoke, and medical and technical expertise from Capra, but they can’t be bothered to step in when shit hits the fan.”

Roman’s brow quirked. “Do you really want the wardens to interfere in Capra business?”

“Do you always have to be the voice of reason?”

A baritone chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You must understand, those are the boundaries on which the Eastern Coalition was founded. Capra was always meant to be a self-governing town, an experimental capsule left to its own devices. The Smoke provides additional resources, and acts as an outlet for the overflow.”

“Overflow?” I scoffed. “Those are people you’re talking about, citizens kicked out of town.”

He let my protest ride. “The Wardens offer protection from the wilds. We have a decent-sized man-force and stock of weapons, but we’d be overrun if the barons attacked with their hordes. Trade is our best weapon. It’s how we keep the wilds at bay. It’s why the barons are happy for us to preserve this little slice of civilization instead of decimating it. They benefit from all Capra has to offer, too.”

I rolled my eyes. “What about The Smoke and those union families that run The Smelt and The Break? Isn’t that what you wanted? For the wardens to step in and clean up the corruption?”

I didn’t mention the underground human trafficking ring that had taken Amelia from him.

That’s where Roman’s mind went, anyway.

His eyes darkened. “That’s one good thing that’s come out of the Capra Rebellion. If it can happen in town, it can happen in The Smoke. The Protectorate is afraid the union families will get ideas about grabbing more territory, or wrest power from them completely. They’re scrambling to take back control of The Smelt and The Break.”

Relief hit me from all sides. This was what Roman had always wanted, to get rid of the families, to stop the human traffickingof young girls and whatever other nefarious power they wielded. “That’s good.”

“It’s also keeping the Protectorate busy and out of Capra business. Despite the clearly established boundaries, the Protectorate have always aligned themselves closely with the council.”

That could solve a problem I’d been putting off for another day. “Are you saying it’s safe for Daniel and the heirs to stay in The Smoke once we break them out?”

“The Smoke was always safe for them,” Roman said.

“But not safe for Capra,” I argued. “I trust Daniel implicitly, but some of the others…the Otter heir in particular, he’s bad news. He’ll try to enlist the aid of the Protectorate to restore the council. I have to be honest, I haven’t figured out what we should do with them.”

Roman gave that some thought. “No guarantees, but the Protectorate is going to war with the Grabough and Hanson families. They don’t have the capacity to take on an agenda from any of the heirs as well.”

“Not right now, perhaps, but what about later?”

“That depends on the timing, and how the Sisterhood develops their relationship with the Protectorate,” he said. “Once the politics in Capra has settled, I doubt they’ll rock the boat.”

Everything was lining up.

Now we just needed to get Daniel and the others to The Smoke.

But first, there was one more thing I had to tell Roman about. I didn’t want to. We’d only just made peace between us, and we’d never see eye-to-eye on this. Julian Edgar could rot in hell for all I cared, but Roman believed the system was bigger than the individual.

I couldn’t keep this from him.

No more secrets.

“Julian Edgar was admitted to rehab this morning,” I said. “Ward Z.”

Roman shoved both his hands through his hair. His masks were all down tonight, and his expression was pained. “We have to get him out, too. We have to get them all out.”

The councilmen belonged there.

They deserved everything they had coming to them.

Even Ward Red.

I wasn’t a monster, but a mist of fury and revenge invaded my head whenever I thought of Julian Edgar and his cronies.

They’d taken my choices. They’d murdered the hope of me carrying a baby of my own flesh and blood in my womb. They’d taken too much from all of us.

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