“The Great Battle will look like a spring picnic.”
“Soon all the kingdoms will be under our thumb. We’ll say jump, and they’ll ask how high.”
“Especially that bitch in Venda.”
“She’ll be in for a surprise when she arrives, and it won’t be a royal welcome.”
“She’ll finally get what’s coming to her.”
“A noose.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“I still don’t like that he took our only working weapon.”
“Within a week, we’ll have an arsenal. One small weapon won’t matter. He’s probably already used up all the loads practicing on trees.”
There was a hearty round of guffaws.
A noose? An arsenal of weapons?
“I’m going to need more supplies.”
“No worries. The Ballengers are generous. They’ll give us more. They’re as eager for this as we are.”
More laughter.
Eager for what? What were Jase and his family planning? All the kingdoms under their thumbs? Was inviting the queen here only a trap?
“To the Ballengers, our generous patrons.”
I heard the clink of glasses lifted in a toast, a chuckle, and then a long unapologetic belch, followed by a stumble, a curse, and a wail as a shin or knee met an immovable object. I used that moment to peek around the pillar.
It was the first thing I saw—a clear view of a moon-shaped scar on a wide forehead. My attention jumped to a deep cleft in a stubbled chin, and the man who wore both so infamously had white hair. It wasn’t Erdsaff but Captain Illarion.
Jase’s manipulations piled on. He had fed me one lie after another.
Then the captain and two other men I didn’t recognize stepped aside and my throat went dry.
Sitting on a divan behind them was Governor Sarva of Balwood. He was the one who had led the attack against the clans in Blackstone Square. After the Great Battle, all that was found of him was part of his charred breastplate with the Balwood insignia. He was believed dead. Sitting beside him was Chievdar Kardos, swigging back a mug of ale, another member of the Komizar’s Council who was unaccounted for but believed dead. And seated at a table near them, picking at meat on a trencher and licking his fingers, was Bahr, one of the Sanctum guards in the clan attack—
I pushed back behind the pillar, pressing against it.
How would I tell Synové?
Everything had just gotten more complicated. These men were as vile as the captain, maybe worse, hated criminals of Venda. My mind whirled. Jase was harboring them all. A sour taste swelled on my tongue. This beast will turn and kill you. Now we had many beasts.
Take them all back? We had to. But was that even possible?
Maybe, I thought. Maybe there was one way.
I was going to need a hay wagon.
* * *
When we were safely back in the kitchen at Darkcottage, I told them.
“Yes, the captain’s there. It was him with the white hair just as I thought.”