Calder had wondered. After the fight that had activated the Emperor’s throne, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the device was warped into scrap metal. “I could check it myself, if you’re worried about confidentiality.”
“Not Readers,” Jarelys said sharply. She had been carrying a bundle of letters, which crumpled in her grip. “You activate the Optasia by Reading it, so we’re forced to rely on ordinary alchemists, engineers, and historians. It’s slow going.”
It had never occurred to Calder to imagine how difficult it would be to investigate the history of an object without Reading. How would you even do it? Look for minute clues, he supposed, like the archived accounts of those who assembled the Optasia’s network, maybe examine the structure of the throne for scuffs and scrapes. It sounded tedious.
“As for your attacker…” Her voice grew grim, and she shifted position on her stool as though she suspected an assassin to be sneaking past her at that moment. “We have confirmed that he was a Champion. As far as we can tell, he was in good standing with the Guild, though records have been spotty at best.”
“Arrange a meeting with the Head of the Champion’s Guild,” Calder ordered. “He can answer for the actions of his men.”
Teach’s cold eyes slid over to him, disapproval written on her face. He slipped deeper into the opaque green fluid. He knew he shouldn’t have used that tone with her, but if he was ever going to start being Emperor, shouldn’t it be now?
With anyone else, he could have faked the authority and confidence he needed. He wasn’t shy by nature, and taking command was largely a matter of self-assurance. But Teach was the woman who had killed his father.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t even make himself believe she would follow his orders.
She didn’t release him from her icy gaze as she spoke. “As it happens, I have already arranged for a meeting with Baldesar Kern in a few days. It will be your first unofficial business as Imperial Steward.”
Just hearing his newfound title pleased him, even if it wasn’t quite as impressive as “Emperor.” He’d get there.
“Thank you, General Teach.” Should he still address her by title, or should he be calling her Jarelys, to emphasize his new social standing? He’d have to decide later.
She stood. “I must plan your security for the next week, but I have guards posted outside of every window and the door. They will respond if you need anything.”
“I’m certain I’ll survive my bath without assistance.” The alchemists had prescribed a full morning of soaking in the tub, which he had already suffered since dawn.
Before leaving the room, Teach paused as though she’d forgotten something. “The Emperor never had a moment of privacy. Get used to it now.”
Calder winced as she left. He had thought he’d covered up his discomfort nicely, but it seemed she’d noticed nonetheless.
“You kept sliding in deeper,” Meia said. “It gives you away. If you wanted her to think you were comfortable, you should have feigned sleep.”
Calder froze, very carefully not sliding any deeper into the sludge. His brief, panicked reaction was to scream for the Imperial Guards, but he stopped himself just in time. He’d decided to trust Meia, if only because she’d saved his life. Hopefully, if he showed her enough trust, she wouldn’t kill him.
But how many people were going to barge in on his medical bath?
“Did Teach know you were here?”
She walked around in front of the tub, taking the Guild Head’s stool. Meia was dressed all in black, as always, with black cloth covering her mouth and nose. She didn’t look at Calder as she spoke, her eyes flicking from entrance to entrance as though she expected another Champion to come barging through. “I’m afraid that she wouldn’t welcome me back. She might not kill me if she recognized me, but she would likely have me detained.”
She had said something about growing up in the Imperial Palace. He hadn’t pried into it at the time, but now he was much more interested.
“Why would she recognize you?” Calder asked carefully.
Meia’s eyes blinked orange for a fraction of a second, and just as he was starting to wonder if he was in danger, she answered. “This pertains to the security of the Imperial Palace, not to the Guild, so I suppose you’re authorized to know. You would find out eventually. Either Teach would tell you, or someone else would get around to it.”
Calder leaned forward, intrigued. “Don’t worry. I won’t repeat anything you say outside this room.”
“If the information was so sensitive that it couldn’t be leaked, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said, so matter-of-factly that it was a little insulting. “When I was young, I was assigned to the Emperor’s security detail. We were a discreet unit protecting the Emperor from behind, just as the Imperial Guards protected him from the front.”
Three figures in black had once tackled him during his audience with the Emperor. He had barely given them any thought at the time, but one had been a blond girl about his age.
“So we’d met before the dead island.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but the memory of his father’s execution dredged up a world of pain. If Meia hadn’t held him back, he would have lunged at the Emperor. Maybe Calder would have gotten his revenge.
No, I would have been torn to pieces. From a certain point of view, Meia had unintentionally saved his life back then.
“We had.”
“How many of you were there?” He’d seen three, but as far as he knew, there could have been a thousand young Consultants-in-training defending the Emperor in the shadows.
“Three. Myself, Lucan, and Shera.”
Shera. The woman who had haunted him for months, who had directly or indirectly turned his life inside-out. If his Guilds won the current dispute, established him as the Emperor, and returned the Consultants to the fold, then Shera might be compelled to protect his life. He found some irony in that.
Another memory returned, more recent: on the Gray Island, as the ground crumbled far above them, three Consultants fought him. The battle that had ended in Urzaia’s death. Meia, Shera, and one other: a Heartlander man dressed identically to the other two, except for the addition of black gloves. Lucan. The man who had been imprisoned in the Gray Island next to his wife.
“You three have made it a habit to get in my way.”
Meia waited silently, undisturbed.
This isn’t the way, he reminded himself. I need her on my side. He reached out a hand, shaking it free of green goop, and patted Meia on the knee. “Never mind. I appreciate that you’re here, working with me. I know that you’ve always acted with loyalty to your Guild and to the Empire, and I’m certain that we’ll continue to work more closely in the future.”
He was proud of that little speech, but Meia’s eyebrows raised. “I’ve already sent my report to the Architects. If they order me away, I’ll disappear.”
“Or you could join the crew of The Testament. I’ve registered you with the Guild as an honorary crew member.” That was a lie, but he could make it the truth if she agreed. “When the Empire is whole again, you’ll be on the side of the Emperor, defending the world from Elders.”
He thought he saw the hint of a smile under her black veil, but it could have been wishful thinking. “The Empire will never be whole.”
“How can you be sure?”
Her voice was suddenly sad, almost wistful. “Because the Consultants aren’t holding it together. If we’ve given up, everyone should.”