“What are we going to do now?” Akstyr asked. “If he’s not the true emperor, do we even care who’s on the throne?”
“We care,” Books said, joining the conversation for the first time.
Amaranthe remembered the look he’d given her up on the ledge. He’d seemed to know about the Sespian-Sicarius link.
“We want someone in charge with the foresight and wisdom to manage the future’s changing currents in a manner that will empower the people, not impoverish them.” Books glowered at Maldynado, as if he, because of his older brother, was responsible for Forge’s scheme.
Maldynado lifted his hands, pointing a finger at Akstyr. “He asked, not me.”
Now that it’s possible there are choices, Basilard signed, are we certain a nineteen-year-old boy is the person with the ‘foresight and wisdom’ of which Books speaks?
“Perhaps not,” Books said.
Akstyr scowled at Basilard, perhaps objecting to the notion that young people couldn’t have foresight and wisdom.
“Let’s not abandon him yet.” Chin up and back stiff, Yara appeared miffed at how quickly people were dismissing Sespian.
Amaranthe shared the feeling, though she wasn’t sure it mattered. Would Sespian want anything to do with the throne now that he knew he wasn’t the rightful heir? What if he simply walked away? Though she didn’t know him well, she had a hard time believing he’d do that. Even if Sespian knew he couldn’t be a part of the ruling future, she thought he’d want to try and thwart the Forge and Marblecrest scheme. Besides, he still had a claim to the throne, albeit a muddled one.
Books came over and touched Amaranthe’s shoulder.
“Wait,” Maldynado said before Books spoke, apparently in response to Basilard, “who is Sespian’s father? Does anybody know?”
“Some kitchen boy, probably,” Akstyr said.
“Don’t be crude,” Yara said.
When Amaranthe didn’t speak, Books’s eyebrows rose. “Are you going to say anything?” he asked.
“How long have you known?” she murmured.
“I’ve had a hunch it was something like that for a while, but the exact puzzle pieces didn’t snap into place until Sicarius threatened Maldynado if he didn’t keep the emperor safe.”
“Ah.” At least she hadn’t been the one to give it away. Right, Amaranthe told herself, you can keep secrets from friends, just not from enemies.
“I have been working on ideas,” Books said, “for a new form of government.”
“A new government?” Amaranthe had only ever wanted to help Sespian retain his position. Now Books was proposing… she didn’t even know what. Revolution?
“It was only an exercise until this information came out,” Books went on, “but the antiquated notion of an empire might not be what Turgonia needs as it goes ahead into modern times. So much of the strife between the old warrior caste and the new entrepreneurial class is born out of mutual resentment, which never would have been a factor if land and power were not hereditary, gifts given to those loyal families who have been willing to support totalitarian rule over the centuries.”
Maldynado strolled over, and, for once, Amaranthe was glad. She wasn’t ready to think about spearheading a revolution.
“What are you two discussing?” Maldynado asked. “Some sort of… ” His gaze shifted over Amaranthe’s shoulder.
Sicarius strode out of the trees, as grim and deadly as ever. Relief flooded Amaranthe, though, with so many witnesses present, she didn’t run to him. He wasn’t looking approachable anyway. He wasn’t wet, so he must have found a back way out, but Amaranthe wished he were wet, as the water might have washed the blood stains off his hands and out of his hair. She’d seen him gore-covered before, but, given Sespian’s new knowledge, she wished he looked less like a soldier straight from the front lines. An assassin, she thought, not a soldier.
Sicarius spotted Sespian further down the beach, and a hint of the starkness faded from his eyes, though an uncommon stiffness accompanied his gait. It might have been an injury or simple tension.
“Glad you could join us.” Amaranthe forced a smile. She didn’t want to open with accusations, but she had to know what he’d done down there. “Did you, ah… ”
“There was a translucent barrier further protecting their meeting area,” Sicarius said. “I found another way around, but they sent their bodyguards to delay me. I dealt with them and was catching up with the Forge people when the tunnel collapsed.”
“Tunnel collapse?” Amaranthe asked, her heart sinking.
“There were several after an explosion sounded.” Sicarius looked at her, as if he knew she’d been responsible. And why not? Who else did he know that was crazy enough to blow up tunnels from within? “Water flooded inside, causing structural damage. I reached the docking pool too late to retrieve our vehicle. I had to find another way out.”
A swollen bruise on his temple made Amaranthe wonder if, for once, the blood spattering him didn’t belong to someone else. Dust caked his black clothing, and numerous scrapes abraded his hands.
“Sorry about that, but you did choose to take an alternative route out.” Amaranthe felt like a heel implying that he would have been safe had he stuck with her-she’d nearly gotten her entire team killed-but wandering off to stalk Forge people had been his idea, and she refused to pity him for the bruises he’d obtained. “You said you made it to the submarines. Do you know if, ah, did all of the Forge people get out?”
Sicarius hesitated. “Unknown.”
That uncharacteristic hesitation made Amaranthe probe deeper. “Truly?”
Sicarius clasped his hands behind his back. It wasn’t the first time she’d received silence in lieu of a response, and she’d learned to read some of his silences. He was protecting her. Her actions had resulted in deaths. Not all of the Forge people had escaped in time. Amaranthe stared at the ground, stung by the cosmic unfairness. She’d accidently achieved what an assassin had wished but failed to do. Sicarius stood there, stained by blood, while the water had washed any such stains from her. Visible stains anyway.
A few meters away, a boot crunched on pebbles. It sounded loud on the quiet beach. Amaranthe hadn’t realized how still it had grown, or how many eyes had been turned toward her conversation.
Assuming one of the men was simply moving about, Amaranthe didn’t turn to see who it was. Only when Sicarius’s hand dropped to his dagger, halted halfway there, and hung in the air, did she turn.
Sespian stood there, a loaded pistol in his hand. Aimed at Sicarius.
Stunned, Amaranthe could only gawk.
“Uhm,” Maldynado said, summing up her thoughts.
Amaranthe had expected a reaction from Sespian, but not this reaction. She lifted a hand and stepped toward him.
He skewered her with a hard gaze so similar to ones she’d received from Sicarius that it stopped her in her tracks.
“Don’t move.” Though Sespian spoke to Amaranthe, the pistol never wavered. Its muzzle pointed straight at Sicarius’s heart. When Sespian looked at him again, anger seethed in his eyes. “How?”
Sicarius lowered his hands, not toward his weapons, but to his sides. He didn’t say anything. He did glance toward Amaranthe, and she cringed, knowing she bore all the responsibility for this moment.
“How did it… ” Sespian took in several deep breaths that did nothing to lighten the tension bunching his shoulders. “Did you rape her?”
The blunt accusation startled Amaranthe, but she abruptly understood the pistol. In case Sicarius was going to answer with silence again-silence that might be misconstrued as an admission of guilt-Amaranthe said, “No,” for him.
Ignoring Sespian’s earlier warning, she walked toward Sicarius. She didn’t lunge to protect him, fearing a quick action would surprise Sespian into shooting, but she strode across the intervening distance and planted herself in front of him. Sespian moved the pistol so it didn’t point at her, but he didn’t lower it.