Page 118 of The Queens and the Kings
The bottom paragraph grabbed her attention.
Captain Arvid, in partnership with numerous soldats, is posing an immediate interdiction to His Glory’s diabolical reign. If you are open to helping, speak with the person who delivered this message.
Remain wary. Do nothing. We will keep you informed as developments occur in order to keep you safe.
She ran her finger along the edge, contemplative. Risky for both the delivery person and the resident to voice support. The chance for betrayal and sabotage ran deep. But how else? The whole operation reeked of necessary risk. Arvid had also put himself forward as an obvious successor.
What was his motivation?
Einar’s obvious trust for Arvid, his loyalty to the political structure Arvid set forward, was a bold contrast to Henrik’s respectful but reserved silence. Why didn’t Henrik give the same commitment?
Pedr, reading the letter over her shoulder, said nothing. His gaze raked over Arvid in assessment. Britt returned the distributed leaflet to the table.
“The reaction has been powerful,” Arvid said. “So powerful that Old Man and a few other Captains started sneaking women and children off the island. They’re going to the barrier islands around Stenberg, as well as Kapurnick, Narpurra, and Cmeaddon islands.”
Britt’s eyes flashed to him. He met her startled gaze. “Really?” she inquired. “Kapurnick is hosting?”
He nodded with a warm, grateful smile. “Malcolm approved. He’s taking them in, providing a place to stay until the dust settles, so to speak.” Carefully, he added, “I haven’t spoken with General Helsing regarding the matter.”
Her lips stretched into a soft smile. “Sounds like Malcolm.”
With a question from Einar, discussion advanced to the Ladylord. Einar’s brief explanation of her requested support in a confrontation against His Glory, sketches of the proposed battle, and other details swirled. The conversation had already spun to minute details that Britt had less interest in.
Einar rapped on the table, drawing attention to a hasty fleet of ships he’d drawn near the mainland. “This is where the mainland keeps the navy.”
“How many ships?” Arvid asked.
“I don’t know exact numbers, but a small fleet,” Einar countered. “Twenty ships, a combination of supply, frigate, support.”
“Twenty-three,” Pedr said.
Einar eyed him, nodded. “Twenty-three, then. Their bigger fleets are farther north, with other ports along the southeastern edge of the continent. Not far from the colonies, but not too close, either.”
Arvid’s thoughtful stance hadn’t changed since he entered the room, subject to Einar’s rapid-fire plans. Since Arvid arrived, Henrik avoided meeting Britt’s gaze. Not intentional, she’d wager. Probably just focus, but his pursed expression reminded her of a kettle under pressure.
Britt peered through the paned windows and onto the glittering sea with a clench of surprise. Doughy clouds meandered through the sky, guileless and?—
—was that quick shadow a wing?
“I received a trustworthy report that there’s a Stenberg ship sailing a day behind me,” Arvid said. “If the report is correct, they’re bringing a message directly from His Glory, delivered by a soldat.”
“How do you know?” Henrik asked.
“The new recruits confirmed before we left.”
“Do you trust them?”
Arvid nodded. “Their travails to deliver the news were sufficient. Old Man confirmed.”
“What do you think the message is about?”
Einar scoffed. “We hardly need to ask. An official refusal of trade, I’d wager. That bastid wants to make certain what he’s already done to the mainland. Might as well establish a declaration of war.” He scowled, sneering at the page. “That’s why he’s sending it with a soldat.”
Arvid’s hesitation elongated the air, heavy and dark. “I believe that’s correct, yes. I think His Glory is going to send an official refusal of trade and potentially ignite a war.”
Henrik’s lips twitched. “No matter what we do, His Glory will start a war with the mainland.”
“Correct.”
