Page 7 of House of Embers
Kerrigan’s head snapped up as Dozan Rook stepped into the war council chamber. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew how to access the room. He had always been as slippery as a snake and twice as dangerous. He was dressed in his typical Wastes garb—black suit,red vest, and bloodred cravat with the Rook R pin at his collar. No matter that the Wastes had been destroyed in the Red Masks’ coup of the city. Dozan would forever be an underworld king.
“Should I be concerned that there are spies within my halls?” Fordham growled.
Despite Fordham’s displeasure, he and Dozan had learned to work together. They had both been fighting for Kerrigan. Dozan had been her first obsession—first everything—but he’d respected Kerrigan’s choice in the end. Anyway, she was pretty sure something was going on between him and Wynter, even if neither of them would admit it.
“I’ve cleared out the others,” Dozan said with a smirk.
“Do I even want to know what that means?”
Dozan shrugged, unconcerned, as he ran a hand through his brown-red hair and came to Wynter’s side. “I didn’t do it for you,” he said as his eyes moved to Kerrigan’s, “but for her.”
Wynter stepped away from him at that admission. “Regardless of why Dozan is here or his methods, it’s hard to deny that they are effective. We need every manner of tool we can get.”
“And as to his…suggestion?” Fordham asked.
“Killing her is the easiest solution,” Dozan said with another shrug. “Publicly, for her dissent. Then no one will question you.”
“Why am I not surprised the guy who murdered his whole family to become king of the Wastes would suggest this option?” Kerrigan quipped.
Dozan arched an eyebrow and leaned his hip into the war table. “Always here for good advice, princess.”
“Killing her would bring all the Blanchards down on our heads,” Fordham said.
“They’d appreciate the power move,” Dozan argued.
“He’s not wrong,” Wynter said. Fordham opened his mouth to argue, but she held up her hand. “But it’s not the right move here. We need them all on our side. We need a power play. Something strongerthan you walking into a room with Kerrigan on your arm. Something bigger than your mother’s ring and our father’s throne.”
“I’m not marrying Viviana,” Fordham snarled. He thrust his hand toward the door. “That was the bullshit that they argued.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that,” she hissed right back at him.
Shadows bloomed on both of their hands as the sibling argument threatened to escalate. They were still not accustomed to their truce. They hadn’t been raised to do this together. It was all new territory.
“What is your suggestion then?” Kerrigan asked gently.
“A coronation,” Wynter said.
“Oh,” Kerrigan said. “Actually…”
Dozan nodded. “Not a bad idea.”
Fordham stalked away from the table. “Must we?”
“It’d be public. It’d be undeniable. The entire kingdom would be present to see you crowned.”
Fordham paced back and forth across the room with his head bowed. Wynter was still listing the many virtues of why a coronation should fit into their plans despite a war on the horizon, but Fordham seemed unable to hear her.
Kerrigan knew that look, had seen it on his visage back in Domara when he had been enslaved and lost to Iris’s torture.
“Hey,” she said softly, putting her hand on his sleeve to stop him.
He cast his gray eyes upon her, looking as if he were coming out of a deep fog. “Hmm?”
“Where did you go?”
He shook his head. “There must be another solution.”
“A wedding,” Dozan quipped, his voice laced with derision.
