Chapter Twenty-Three #3
“And crop forecasts and reports from our connections in Vhrania and requests for assistance with flooding and drought. A new bridge to cross the river. Repair work at the pass. And so on.”
My lip curled involuntarily. “Is this what princes do?”
“Other than dallying with servants and ignoring the plight of strongholders?”
“You wouldn’t need to be a different kind of prince if the others weren’t like that.”
“I don’t like that you have a point. The problem, Fox, is that time, workers, and coin are limited. Need is not. Unfortunately, instead of trying to prioritize and allocate funds, the former princes apparently decided to do nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, they spent plenty of coin, just not on the things that needed repair.”
I leaned in. “Do you need me to steal coin for you?”
I was actually half-serious, but he burst into loud and joyous laughter that echoed across the throne room like music. I liked the sound of it a little too much. “Let’s try diplomacy and good planning before we get to thievery.”
“Your loss.”
“You said you had questions?”
“Aetheric curate,” I said, and watched him carefully.
“Aetheric curate,” he repeated. His expression looked completely—and honestly—blank. “What is that?”
“A minister appointed by the Emperor Eternal to monitor Aetheric activity and practitioners. And to oversee the development of an Aetheric weapon.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Not just confusion now, but anger. “Who told you this?”
“The Emperor Eternal’s scribe.” I pulled from my pocket the report I’d carefully extracted from the archive, handed it to him. “Shortly before the god disappeared.”
He took it and read through it. And when he was done, he read it again. “There’s more to this?”
“Maybe in prior reports, but I haven’t found any yet.”
“We’ll leave aside the fact that you aren’t supposed to take pages out of an official archive.”
“I wasn’t going to cram an entire book down my dress,” I murmured.
He looked up at me. “Fox, I didn’t know about any of this. If I had, I’d have told you. I promise you that.”
“How would you not know?”
“I would have been young when this was written. There were no Aetheric practitioners in the palaces where I was raised—where I was secluded. I knew there were people with what they called ‘peasant magic,’ but that wasn’t part of my world.
By the time I was old enough to pay attention, the god had disappeared and the practitioners along with him.
As to my father”—he looked down at the report again—“he parceled out information and opportunities because he didn’t want any one of us to know too much, to be too skilled.
The less we knew, the safer he felt. I had a few well-placed friends in the imperial palace, and I’d get information occasionally.
But never any of this. It’s the first I’ve heard of it. ”
“What do you think ‘defense’ means?”
“I don’t know. Luna might have a better sense than me.
It could be an Aetheric weapon, but why would Carethia need that?
That’s not the part that worries me.” He pointed to a single word: “Cataloging. He was tracking practitioners. He wouldn’t need to know who’s working magic unless he intended to do something about it. ”
And would the Emperor Eternal be interested in a girl who could see ghosts…and a little more? “Does it still happen?” I wondered if he could hear my trepidation, even though I worked to keep the words steady. Fear wouldn’t help.
“No,” he said, and the certainty in his voice made me feel better. “I would know. I didn’t have connections when I was younger, but I do now. And the Emperor Eternal wouldn’t waste resources on tracking something that doesn’t exist.”
Hadn’t existed. Things were changing.
“Is there a connection you trust enough to ask about the curate? Maybe the Northern Prince or your uncle? You said he wasn’t political, but he was an adult, at least, when this was going on. Maybe he remembers it.”
“I’ll think about it. I’m not sure I’d get the truth from my uncle, assuming he was even aware of it. Asking Laeith means sending a message halfway across the country. It would take weeks to get a response, and it wouldn’t be secure.”
“You mean the emperor might intercept it?”
“I presume he is aware of every communication sent from the stronghold.”
“So much power,” I said. “And so little power.”
“I’m only the son of an emperor. As he likes to remind us, he is the one with the power.”
And, it seemed, entirely too much of it.
“Come with me,” he said, and picked up a candelabra. “I want to show you something.”
We walked back into the corridor, then into a narrow stone stairwell that led to an underground level. We reached an imposing set of double doors with iron strapping and hinges, and an enormous lock with two keyholes.
Doors this sturdy were only necessary when important things needed guarding.
My heart fluttered. “Treasury?”
“Treasury,” he confirmed, then pulled from his pocket two keys tied with a green ribbon.
A thief dreams of treasure chests and hidden caches and secret vaults. And I knew I’d walk through those doors to find a lifetime’s worth of treasure. I blew out a breath, fully prepared to meet my destiny.
He twisted the keys, pushed open the doors, and walked inside, the flickering candles lighting the way.
The room was nearly as spacious as the library, with a ceiling of vaulted stone and wooden shelves for a palace’s collection of coin, bullion, paintings, artifacts, tapestries.
And it held exactly none of those things.
I walked from front to back, trailing fingers across shelves grimy with dust and disuse. I found a single copper coin, a sliver of broken blue ceramic, and nothing else.
It was so disappointing. “I don’t understand. The treasury was robbed?” Righteous fury joined the disappointment. If anyone was going to strip this palace of its excesses, it should have been me.
“Not in the way you mean. It was empty when I arrived, and apparently had been for some time.”
“The former prince’s servants?”
“Or the prince himself. Or princes.”
I wondered what my father would have thought of his scrawny daughter standing in an empty treasure room—and not being the one who’d ransacked it. Maybe relieved. Maybe disappointed.
“What do you think they did with it?”
“Sold it, most likely, to pay for their lifestyles. The Western Gate isn’t the most prestigious.”
“I’ve heard it’s where the troublemakers are sent. And that you punched the tutor.”
His gaze narrowed. “Galen?”
“Talia.”
He nodded. “Ah, of course.”
“Don’t get mad at her. I made her tell me.”
“Yes, I’m sure you threatened her with bodily violence, Fox.”
“Much cruelty,” I agreed.
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s the truth. There’s no point in being angry about the truth.”
“Wait,” I said. “How have you been paying your troops? The Lady to let me stay here?”
“I have my own funds, and I’ve sold objects here and there to ensure that debts are paid.”
I surveyed the room again, thought of what it meant. “So the Emperor Eternal sends you here to get rid of you or to make you stronger. How does he expect you to live? To pay your staff?”
“He didn’t know about the state of things. I’ve sent a message, and I expect he’ll tell me to handle it. That’s how I’m to grow as a prince and leader.”
I glanced back at him. “Would you like me to fill it up again?”
His laughter filled the space and had me smiling. “It takes a special thief to offer to steal treasure to fill a prince’s coffers.”
“I prefer ‘righteous thief.’ If not to fill it up, why did you bring me here?”
“Because I want you to know the truth of me, Fox. And I think you’re finally able to understand it—I’m a Lys’Careth by name. But that only goes so far, for good or ill.”