Page 103 of While the Dark Remains

Her lips thin. “His armies ought to. They will be here by summer.”

“That wasnotin Daeros’s accord with Aerona!” cries Ballast. “There is no justification for the imperial army to land here.”

Aelia’s gaze flicks to Ballast. “My father has long been unhappy with the governing of Daeros, and the wastefulness of the war with Skaanda. Aerona comes to set it right.”

“Invade, you mean. Expand the empire. Don’t mince words with me, Your Imperial Highness.”

“Aerona is inconsequential,” says Brandr. “We are getting off course.”

“Imperial occupation is not inconsequential!” Vil objects.

“This whole time,” whines Kallias, finally opening his eyes, “no one has saidanythingabout the marriage clause.”

We all turn to look at him, bile acrid in my throat.

“What marriage clause?” says Aelia, wearily.

Kallias smiles, tipping his chair back on two legs and playing with his wineglass, pleased to have everyone’s attention. “Princess Astriduris to be my queen, sealing the treaty between our nations and putting a permanent end to the war.”

Brandr laughs. Aelia frowns. Ballast’s eye bores into my face, and Vil squeezes my wrist so hard it hurts.

“You forget, Your Majesty,” I say through gritted teeth, “that I have not accepted your proposal.”

Kallias yawns and sets his chair back down on the floor with athump. “Andyouforget, Your Highness, exactly what is at stake.”

Brandr waves a dismissive hand. “None of that matters,” he says impatiently. He turns to fix Kallias with the full weight of his stare. “There is something, however, that you have conveniently left off the proposed terms.”

Kallias’s lips thin. “And what is that, High Master?”

“The Iljaria weapon in the heart of the mountain that you are close to reaching.”

Everyone in the room goes suddenly, painfully, still. Vil’s squeezing my wrist again and Aelia looks grim and Ballast’s face is tight and my vision is going white at the edges.

“If your people didn’t want it,” says Kallias, his voice low and deadly, “you shouldn’t have left it here.”

Brandr smiles, the pitying, demeaning smile one gives to a foolish child. “When you breach the weapon, all of us will be there—Daeros, Skaanda, Iljaria ...” He flicks his eyes to Aelia and adds with disgust, “Aerona. We will decide all together what is to be done with it.”

“And if I refuse to agree to this?”

Magic licks all up and down Brandr’s arms, and I shudder. “Then you will see, little king, Iljaria’s other way to bring down a mountain. This council is over.”

Without another word, the Prism Master stalks from the room, leaving absolute chaos to erupt in his wake.

Chapter Nineteen

Year4200, Month of the Ghost God

Daeros—Tenebris

It feels like a storm is looming, like the very earth under our feet groans and shifts, readying for irrevocable change.

The Prism Master keeps mostly to himself and his rooms, but every morning he saunters into Kallias’s private receiving chamber with his quartet of Iljaria behind him and demands a progress report from Kallias and Basileious, his engineer. I know because I’m always crouched above the ceiling, watching.

“Closer,” says Basileious every day. “Soon. But not yet.”

And then the Prism Master leaves again.

Skaanda and Daeros sign the peace treaty in the great hall, all the palace watching: Kallias and Ballast first, me and Vil after. Aelia looks on, cold and angry in her fur-lined gown. Brandr signs, too, accepting the pledge of tribute from both nations. Kallias doesn’t seem to care about the treaty whatsoever, but Ballast sparks with rage, and Vil seethes with it.

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