“Don’t bother,” said a woman’s voice calmly. “You wouldn’t reach it. And I cannot permit you to flee.” A windcrafted veil fell, revealing…
It took Amara a moment to recognize Invidia Aquitaine, and even then she only did it because she recognized the chitin-armor and the creature upon her breast. The woman’s long, dark hair was gone. So was most of her lily-white skin, replaced by mottled red burn scars. The corner of one eye sagged beneath a scar, but they were otherwise the same, and her calm, implacable gaze was chilling.
“If you leave now,” Amara said, her voice cool, “you might escape before the Placidas catch up to you.”
Invidia smiled. It did horrible things to the scars on her face. One of them cracked and bled a little. “Dear Countess, don’t be ridiculous. They do not know I am here, any more than you did. Count yourself fortunate that I have not come here to harm you.”
Amara checked the distance to the door again.
“Though I will,” Invidia said, “if you attempt anything foolish. I am sure that you are aware how little hesitation I would have should I need to kill you.”
“As little as I will have when I kill you,” Amara replied.
Invidia’s smile widened. The blood tracked over her lip and one very white tooth. “Feisty little thing. I’ll dance if you wish. But if we do, you’re a dead woman, and you know it.”
Amara clenched her teeth, seething—because crows take her, the woman was right. Out in the open, with room to maneuver, Amara had a real chance of surviving against Invidia. In this smelly chamber, surrounded by stone? She would be dead before her scream reached the nearest guard. There was nothing she could do to change that, and the knowledge terrified and infuriated her.
“Very well,” Amara said a moment later, stiffly. “I’ll bite. Why are you here?”
“To negotiate, of course,” Invidia said.
Amara stared at her for a long moment. Then she whispered, “Murdering bitch. You can go to the crows.”
Invidia laughed. It was a bitter, unsettling sound, made eerie by some strange convolution of her burn-scarred throat. “But you do not even know, Countess, what I have to offer.”
“Treachery?” Amara guessed, her voice venomously sweet. “That’s your usual service, after all.”
“Precisely,” Invidia said. “And this time it will work in your favor.”
Amara narrowed her eyes.
“What’s happening out there, Amara, is the end of everything. Unless the Queen is stopped, Alera is finished.”
“And you’re going to… what, exactly? Kill her for us?”
She bared her teeth. “I would, were it possible. I cannot. She is too powerful. By far.”
“Then I’d say you have little to offer us,” Amara replied.
“I can tell you the location of her hive,” Invidia said. “Where you can find her. Where she is most vulnerable.”
“Please do.”
Invidia settled her fingers a little more solidly on the grip of her sword. “I’m desperate, Countess. Not an idiot. I won’t give you that without guarantees.”
“Of?” Amara asked.
“My immunity,” she responded. “A full pardon for any actions leading up to and during this conflict. My estate on the northeast border of the Feverthorn. I will accept banishment to it and house arrest there for the remainder of my life.”
“And in exchange,” Amara said quietly, “you give us the location of the vord Queen.”
“And I will participate in the attack,” Invidia replied. “If every High Lord still under arms pits his strength against her, if she can be caught in her hive, and if the timing is properly arranged, it might be an even match. And that’s the best chance you’re going to have between now and the world’s end, which I estimate will be less than a week from now.”
Amara wanted to snarl her defiance and scorn at the burned traitor, but she forced herself to step back from the emotions while she drew in a slow breath. Millions of lives were at stake. She could not let her weariness, her fear, or her anger guide her actions. She was a Cursor of the Realm, by training and by service, and she owed her teachers—even Fidelias—more than to mindlessly toss out an angry reply like a furious child.
It took her more than a minute to calm her mind, to slow her breathing, to reach a state of clarity and think about the traitor’s offer.
“There’s an issue of credibility,” Amara said. “Specifically, you have none. Why shouldn’t we assume that this offer is a trap to lead our most powerful crafters to their deaths?”
“Can you afford skepticism at this point, Amara?” Invidia asked. “The Queen is no fool. She knows that you will do whatever you can to kill her. She and her kind have been playing this game for a long, long time. She has no intention of allowing you to see her, much less attack her—and even if you defeat this army, in weeks there will be another upon your doorstep. What power remains to Alera is insufficient to stop her. She already controls too much territory, and you do not have the manpower necessary to retake it. Can you afford not to trust me?”
“Absolutely,” Amara said. “I am perfectly willing to take my chances with an honest enemy rather than place the fate of the Realm in your demonstrably treacherous hands.”
Invidia tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “You want something.”
“Think of it as earnest money,” Amara said. “Show me the color of your coin, and there’s a chance we can do business.”
Invidia spread her hands. “What would you have of me?”
“The numbers and disposition of the horde, of course,” Amara said. “Add to that the time and focus of the next attack, and any information you have regarding vord troops present upon the field whom we have not yet observed.”
“Give you all of that information?” Invidia asked. “It would not take her long to realize that she had been betrayed. I would survive her wrath no better than I would the High Lords’.”
Amara shrugged. “That does not, in my view, make the plan any less attractive.”
Invidia’s eyes flashed with silent anger.
“Give me that information,” Amara said quietly. “If it is accurate, we can discuss further cooperative actions. Otherwise, go.”
“Give me your word,” Invidia said. “Your word that you bargain in good faith.”
Amara sneered at her. “You… you, Invidia, are asking me for my word? Do you see the irony inherent in that?”
“I know what your word means to you,” Invidia said quietly. “I know that you will keep it.”
“You don’t know what it means,” Amara replied. “You have no idea. You might see integrity in others, see it function, see how it guides them. But you do not know what it is, traitor.”
Invida bared her teeth. “Give me your word,” she said. “And I will give you what you ask.”
Amara narrowed her eyes for a time, then said, “Very well. Within the limits of my power and influence, I give you my word, Invidia. Deal with me honestly, and I will do what I can to make this bargain for you. Though I must caution you—I do not know what the Princeps’ reaction to your proposal is likely to be. Nor can I control it.”
Invidia stared at her intently while she spoke. Then she nodded slowly. “I do not think the Princeps is going to be of any concern to anyone for much longer.”
“You mean your ex-husband?”
Invidia’s expression twisted into mild surprise. “Is he still alive?”
Amara paused deliberately before she spoke, placing emphasis on that silence. “For now,” she said, finally. “I assume that the First Lady is still being held by the Queen?”
Invidia curled her lips in a grim little smile, pausing for the exact same length of time before she answered. “She is being held in the hive, along with Araris Valerian. You see, Countess? We can do business.”