Gwenna shook her head. “I don’t believe it. If the Kettral are really gone, then who told you this ’Kent-kissing story in the first place?”
“A few made it out,” Kaden said. “A woman named Daveen Shaleel flew in on a bird a few days after the fight. The creature died a day later, along with one of her Wingmates. Weeks after that, one more soldier showed up. Someone named Gent, all alone in a rowboat. He claimed to have rowed it all the way from the Qirins.”
“Where are they now? Shaleel and Gent?”
“Daveen Shaleel is down in the Waist. We put her in charge of the legions there. According to the reports, she’s about the only thing keeping the entire front from collapsing. Last I heard of Gent, he was on a ship charged with finding and sinking pirates.”
“They were the only two?” Gwenna asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Kaden met her gaze. “Shaleel said a few others got away. Maybe a bird or two. Scattered. No one knows where they went.”
Gwenna could feel herself staring. The whole Eyrie-destroyed. It seemed impossible. The Islands were the safest place in the world, the only chunk of land that no kingdom or empire would ever dream of attacking. But then, Kaden’s story wasn’t one of kingdoms and empires.
“It makes sense,” Talal said quietly.
Gwenna turned on him.
“It may turn out to be true, but what about this insane story makes sense?”
“Think it through, Gwenna. Put yourself in the shoes of the Wings back on the Islands: you know your foe has the same training as you. You know that, just like you, she has birds. You know that, just like you, she’s got enough weapons and munitions to storm a small city.”
“And she’ll do it,” Annick said, voice flat. “That’s the important point.”
Talal nodded. “You know that she’ll attack you, because it’s exactly what you would do.”
“Would,” Gwenna pointed out, “is not the same as will. These are men and women who’ve lived on the same island, fought on the same side their entire lives. If they’d bothered to talk it through for half an afternoon, they could have found a way around it.”
“Talking’s a risk,” Annick said. “If you come to talk, and they come to fight, you lose.”
“I’ll tell you when you lose,” Gwenna spat. “You lose when the entire ’Kent-kissing Eyrie destroys itself.”
“That’s true,” Talal said. “But to talk, you need to trust.” He shook his head. “The Eyrie taught us plenty, but trust wasn’t a big part of the curriculum.”
“Fuck,” Gwenna said, shaking her head, turning her attention back to Kaden. “Fuck.”
If he was bothered by the fate of the Eyrie, it didn’t show.
“Actually,” he said after a moment, “it’s lucky for us.”
“Lucky?” Gwenna growled. “How is it lucky, you son of a bitch?”
“I’m sorry for your friends,” Kaden replied, “for the loss of the people you knew, but if il Tornja had the Kettral, if he had them intact and loyal, we’d be finished, dead. There’d be no standing against him.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Gwenna retorted. “I’ve got no love for the kenarang, but everything we’ve heard on the march south suggests this republic of yours is even more useless than Adare’s rump of an empire. At least she and il Tornja are holding back the ’Kent-kissing Urghul.”
Kaden frowned. “The Urghul aren’t the only threat. Nor are they the greatest.”
“Spoken by someone who’s never been an Urghul prisoner.” Gwenna stabbed a finger at him across the table. “We all spent weeks in their camp. Long Fist, may Ananshael fuck him bloody, forced Annick and me to take part in their sick little rituals.” She shook her head, unable to speak for a moment, faced with the full folly of Kaden’s idiocy. “Maybe you don’t know this,” she managed finally, “because you’ve been perched atop your throne-”
“The Unhewn Throne is no longer in use,” he said, cutting her off. “And I am not the Emperor any longer.”
“How convenient for you. If you were the Emperor, you’d probably already know that Balendin is with them.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Remember Balendin?”
Kaden nodded. “The emotion leach. The Kettral.”
“Yeah, except he’s not Kettral any longer. The bastard has gone over entirely to the Urghul.”
“We heard something about one of Long Fist’s deputies. A leach. There was no reliable information.”
“Well, here’s some information: Long Fist is a sick, dangerous bastard, and Balendin is at least as bad. He’s only getting more powerful as his legend spreads.…” She waved a hand at Talal. “You explain it.”
Talal studied Kaden a moment. “You know that Balendin is an emotion leach. That he draws his power from the feelings of others, especially feelings directed at him by those physically close to him.”
Kaden nodded again. “I remember our fight in the Bone Mountains.”
“Except in the Bone Mountains there were only a few of us to give him strength,” Talal said grimly. “Now he has hundreds, thousands. His legend grows every day and with that legend grows his strength. If he breaks through the northern front, it will only get worse. By the time he reaches Annur, he will be as powerful as Arim Hua, as powerful as the greatest of the Atmani. Maybe more so.”
“And this,” Gwenna cut in, “is the threat that you think might not be so bad as Ran il Tornja, who, as far as I can fucking tell, is the only one holding these bastards back.”
“I didn’t realize…,” Kaden began, then fell silent.
There was something new behind those burning eyes, some imperceptible change in the way he held himself. Gwenna tried to pinpoint what she was seeing. Anger? Fear? Before she could put a name to the expression, it was gone.
“So why is it,” she pressed, “that you think your sister and her general are so dangerous?”
“Perhaps they are not,” he admitted quietly. “Not compared to the threat you’ve described.”
Gwenna watched him warily. She was asking him to see past his hatred of the man who had killed his father, past his jealousy of the sister who had stolen his throne. It was no small demand. At best, she had thought, it would take hours to convince him, if such convincing were even possible. Instead, he seemed to have absorbed the new facts in a matter of moments.
“But you’re still determined to carry on this war against Adare,” she said, shaking her head.
“No, in fact.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that the council has offered her a truce. More than a truce-a treaty. An offer to end all hostilities. She will be reinstalled on the Unhewn Throne with all her titles and honors while the council will retain legislative authority.”
“Meaning you make the laws and she enforces them?”
Kaden nodded.
“It won’t work,” Annick said from the doorway, not bothering to look over her shoulder.
Kaden turned to her. “Why not?”
“Whoever has the power will destroy whoever doesn’t.”
“The treaty divides power between us.”
“Divided power,” Gwenna snorted. “That sounds promising.”
“A moment ago,” Kaden replied, “you were urging me to make peace with Adare and Ran il Tornja.”
“I was hoping for an arrangement that might last more than a week.”
Kaden didn’t respond. Instead, he watched her over the table for what felt like a very long time. Gwenna held his gaze, resisted the impulse to fill the empty space with words. If he could sit with the silence, then so could she.
“Why did you come back here?” he asked finally. “To Annur?”
“To learn what was really happening.” She hesitated, then told him the rest. “And to be sure that Valyn wasn’t here, wasn’t still alive somehow.”
“And now that you know what’s happening,” Kaden asked quietly, “now that you know that Valyn’s dead, what will you do?”