Amaranthe perched on the top of the coal box, clasped her hands between her knees, and gazed into Sespian’s eyes with all the guilelessness she could muster. “Sire, I understand that you have reasons to be uncertain about us, but whatever you think we’ve done or haven’t done, we’re here now. Why not make use of us? At the very least you should believe we’re not associated with Forge. If you’ve read the papers lately-” Amaranthe caught herself. Laying claim to a rash of assassinations might not be a good idea, especially if Sespian didn’t yet know Sicarius had been responsible. “We’ve been making trouble for them for a while, and I suspect they’d very much like to see me dead. And certain others in my party.” She glanced at Sicarius, but only for a heartbeat before refocusing on Sespian. “You know what those old military strategists say. The enemy of my enemy is… someone who could make useful cannon fodder. If you have some plot in mind, perhaps you could use us to create a distraction elsewhere.”
Sespian dropped his chin onto a fist and gazed at her.
Finding the response encouraging, Amaranthe pressed on. “Or use us as a research team. You mentioned an interest in what Books might know. He’s well versed in a number of topics, and I’m sure he could pontificate at length on the subject of economics. We have another man with knowledge of the mental sciences.” Amaranthe watched to see what Sespian’s response would be to an allusion of magic, but the term didn’t so much as make his eye twitch. He must be familiar with it. “He may be able to help get that implant out of your neck. We would be useful allies. I’m certain of it. Spend some time with us before heading to Sunders City and whatever you need to do there. We’ll help, regardless of the money.”
Sespian opened his mouth, paused, closed it, then shook his head ruefully. “It’s very easy to be drawn into what you’re saying, and I catch myself wanting to nod and agree. Maybe I should be taking notes on your technique.”
Amaranthe blushed and felt like she should stutter an apology, but she hadn’t done anything to be embarrassed about, had she?
“It’s her eyes,” Sicarius said, startling her.
Yara glanced over her shoulder at him, apparently surprised to hear him speak, but soon turned her attention back to the tracks. She seemed to believe she should remain silent for the discussion.
Sespian scratched his jaw. “Yes, maybe so. They’re like a doe’s. Warm and earnest and…”
“Wholesome.” Sicarius’s eyes glinted, and Amaranthe scowled at him. She knew he was referring to that conversation-that private conversation-she’d had with Deret Mancrest in the Imperial Gardens, where he’d called her wholesome. She didn’t say anything, though, not when Sicarius was finally taking part in the discussion. Sort of.
Unfortunately, Sespian didn’t share eye contact or a knowing smirk with him. All he did was eye Sicarius warily, as if he’d realized whom he’d been chatting with, then he shifted to face Amaranthe more squarely, pointing his shoulder at Sicarius.
“I would like to trust you, Corporal Lokdon,” Sespian said, “but you’re running around with my father’s assassin, someone without a conscience who’s murdered men, women, and children, and-”
“Those are people Hollowcrest and Emperor Raumesys ordered him to kill,” Amaranthe said. “Sicarius was raised by them to be an assassin. What choice did he have?”
“And even if I could believe he bore me no ill will,” Sespian went on without acknowledging her interjection, “what about that Marblecrest you’ve got on your team?” He waved behind his head, toward the coal car. “That whole clan is angling for my hide. They’re working with Forge, planning to put the eldest son on the throne and rule with one hand while panhandling to those entrepreneurs and bankers with the other. And you’ve got the youngest one in here, babbling to me about statues?”
“I…” Amaranthe didn’t know what to respond to first. She’d heard of the Marblecrests-they were one of the oldest warrior-caste families and had spent several generations ruling the empire until Tevok the Third had sired thirteen daughters and not a single son-and it didn’t surprise her to learn that Maldynado came from that line. What did surprise her was that his family was working with Forge and angling for the throne. And the Marblecrests would have a claim too. At one point, Amaranthe had had Books give her a list of the people who would be in the running should Sespian disappear-or the news about his parentage come out. If the latter happened, Sespian still had a claim through his mother’s line, but it wouldn’t be any stronger than that of seven or eight other families, and it would harm his interests if someone digging through Sicarius’s bloodlines didn’t find any warrior-caste patrons.
Amaranthe realized her mouth was hanging open as her mind darted all over the place-and that Sespian was waiting for an answer. “I probably should have asked Maldynado for his surname at some point,” she finished with a sheepish shrug.
She looked at Sicarius, wondering if he had known. He was wearing his expressionless mask and giving away nothing.
“You don’t know the names of the men working for you?” Sespian’s voice wasn’t exactly sarcastic-he seemed to be someone who was careful not to offend with his tone-but it might have been as close to it as he came.
“I don’t know their bloodlines, no. It’s never mattered before.” Amaranthe spread a hand. “Regardless, if you spend a few minutes with Maldynado, I think you’ll see that he’s no threat to you.”
“Yes, that was the gist I got from our brief conversation about statues, but I thought his… garrulous innocuousness might be a facade.”
Amaranthe smiled. “I do think he’s brighter than he lets on, but not in a duplicitous way.” She let the smile fade in favor of a more earnest expression. “I can get more details from him, but Maldynado’s been disowned, and he doesn’t speak fondly of his kin, so I doubt he’ll be a problem for you. If anything, he may be someone from whom you could gain inside information.”
Sespian leaned back. “Huh.”
The monosyllabic grunt reminded her so much of those Sicarius had issued when listening to her early plans, that she paused to consider it. With Sicarius, it usually meant he was open to the idea, and perhaps a little surprised he was open to it. Like father, like son?
“Buy him a drink,” Amaranthe suggested, “and I imagine he’ll spill everything on his eldest brother.”
“I’ll… consider it,” Sespian said, and Amaranthe caught him scrutinizing her eyes. He glanced speculatively at Sicarius, but didn’t say anything else.
Under other circumstances, Amaranthe might have laughed at him-at both of them. Her eyes were the same boring brown shared by ninety percent of the people in the empire, so she couldn’t imagine what they were talking about, but if something in her eyes got Sespian to believe she was on her side, she’d be happy to use it.
“I hope you’ll consider letting the rest of us help you, too, Sire,” Amaranthe said. “At the least, you’ll want that implant out of your neck before you head off to do… whatever it is you’re going to do.” If they had to perform some surgery on Sespian, that’d delay him a couple of days, and maybe she and Sicarius would find their moment alone with him. “I’m sure my mental-sciences man will have some ideas when we meet up with him again.” She wasn’t sure of that at all, but she hoped it would be the case.
“That’s the teenage boy with the spiked hair, isn’t it?” Sespian asked dryly.
“Er, yes, but he studies hard. He’s healed me before, after I’ve done foolish things and nearly gotten myself killed. Also, he’s only a year younger than you, Sire.” Amaranthe decided not to mention that Akstyr appeared older than Sespian. Emperors probably liked to be told they looked fierce and commanding, not baby-faced.
“Yes, and that’s why I’d doubt him. I’m not terribly wise or experienced.”