Chapter 41 #2
Only about half of the daimon whose animated clay bodies survived the various battles decided to hold on to those bodies rather than returning to their former existence as purely spiritual creatures.
As far as we can tell so far, the magically animated bodies are aging the same way regular ones do, so they can have close to normal lives for as long as any regular human being.
Quite a few of the daimon who remained opted to serve the new queen. Rheave has become a sort of captain of the guard for that specific segment.
He’s still delighting in every aspect of his new physical existence, from the breeze to the sway of the carriage to the butterfly that swoops through the window and lands on his sleeve. Rheave laughs and holds it up to show me before it flits off across the fields again.
At the moment, my other companion in this carriage is Alek. The scholar has managed to open a map, a textbook, and a pad of notes on his lap all at once while also consulting a language reference he’s spread out on the bench beside him.
The tension on his face echoes the worry coiled in my gut. I grimace around the question. “Do you think there’s any chance the Darium delegation has good intentions?”
Alek snorts in a not particularly Alek-like way, which only highlights how absurd the idea is.
“If there is, it’s so small you couldn’t make it out with a magnifying glass.
I’m sure this trip is mainly about the emperor’s people feeling out Petra—with an eye to identifying weaknesses they could exploit to drag Silana back under his control. ”
The idea of that ever happening makes me guffaw. “I expect they’ll be sorely disappointed then. I wish we could tell them to stuff their delegation up Emperor Tarquin’s ass.”
“So do I,” Alek says dryly. “But Petra can’t simply throw the offer of negotiating a peace accord in their faces when so many people would benefit from an end to the constant conflict with Dariu. I suppose it’ll give her a chance to feel out the emperor’s representatives too.”
Rheave hums. “Casimir will be able to sense what they’re really after quickly enough.”
Technically the courtesan has been appointed Petra’s arts and entertainments advisor, but she often ensures he’s on hand for any particularly uncertain meetings so he can make use of his gift on her behalf.
I clasp my hands together on my lap. “They’ll be wondering about her entire cabinet of advisors. Do you think word has spread about my magic?”
Alek hesitates, his gaze softening with compassion.
“I think it’s unlikely that not a single spy has brought back word of the divine spectacle at the end of the trials.
But they’ll also be reporting that Silana has ended capital punishment for the riven and started a new habilitation and training program for any who are identified.
And Petra will be introducing you as one of her magic advisors, after all—it’ll be obvious she stands with you. ”
So they might think nasty things in their heads, but they’ll probably refrain from saying them out loud. I guess that’s a small comfort.
I’ll have all of my men by my side as well. Petra appointed Stavros her lead military advisor and put Alek in charge of overseeing royal scholarship while he finishes his own studies. Rheave will tag along in the guise of a regular guard for additional protection.
I sigh and slump back in my seat. “Well, we’ve got until tomorrow before we really have to worry about it.”
A small, sly smile touches Alek’s lips. “The only part I’m looking forward to is seeing the emperor’s representatives come face to face with our new Signy. They don’t know what they’re up against.”
I scoff, but a warm glow spreads through my chest at the same time.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ve truly earned that comparison now.
Immediately outside the city, the recently constructed stone mansion where Sulla is taking in riven pupils comes into view near the bank of the river. Seeing it gives me another whiff of relief despite my worries about tomorrow.
My mentor had nearly as long a recovery time as I did after the violence at the kingship trials, though her injuries were mostly physical. But she’s nearly as hale as she was before, simply needing a cane to reduce the strain on her weakened legs if she’s on her feet for long stretches.
I’ve stopped by at least once a week to help however I can with the training. So far she only has two students—a girl of eight whose magic only just showed itself, and a boy of fifteen who traveled all the way from Icar after hearing of Silana’s new policies.
I’m not sure how many other riven who’ve escaped execution there are in the world, other than us. But if any are hiding in the shadows like I once did, I hope they find the faith to give a real life a chance.
Within the main city walls, all signs of the Order’s presence have been eliminated.
Banners with the Melchiorek family crest stream from flag poles, and we travel through a square where a new statue of Queen Petra has just been erected—perched on a throne at the top of a tower alongside the three helpers she managed to pull up with her, as she did during her final trial for Creaden.
I’m glad most people remember that moment of cooperation and camaraderie more than the chaos that followed.
The royal army Petra has reconstructed has spent a significant part of the past several months rounding up the remaining scourge sorcerers and vocal Order members. The former don’t pose much of a threat without their accomplices to draw power from.
Quite a few of even the true believers of their cause swore themselves over to Petra’s service after witnessing the message of amity and peace the godlen projected through me. The Order’s pockets of influence have quickly dissolved.
Those whose destructive behavior couldn’t be easily pardoned have been assigned to various types of enforced labor to the true betterment of the country.
I believe a certain chief of staff who once worked for Baron Cyris has been sent to the mining camps near the Icarian border—far from my beloved courtesan, who she’ll never get another chance to blackmail.
I can gaze out the window without fear of setting eyes on two other incredibly unwelcome faces.
After I returned from my convalescence, Petra offered to extend a similar punishment to my parents for contributing to Lothar’s campaign against me.
She told me I could even confront them myself along with the arresting officers.
But presented with the opportunity, I found that more than anything I wanted to never again have to see the people who scarred me in so many ways.
So our queen came up with a suitable reprisal of her own.
My mother and father have been ordered to travel from town to town with an escort of royal guards, sharing their shame for failing their riven daughter and counselling all of Silana to avoid their mistakes—to help rather than harm any children who show signs of the wildest of magic.
Thinking of it brings a bittersweet smile to my lips. May their story save at least one child from the same misery they inflicted on me.
At the edge of the middle wards, we pass several workers pulling apart the remains of the old city walls that so starkly divided the elite from the rest of the city.
Petra has been working on expanding the throughways and hiring outer-ward citizens for various building and clean-up projects around the city’s fringes, and the atmosphere across the city has already become brighter.
When we disembark from our carriages in front of the restored Capital Palace, the queen herself comes out onto the front steps to meet us.
“It’s good to have you back,” she says in her brisk but warm way. “Now let’s finalize our plans for handling the Darium delegation.”
Simply standing in the audience room with the members of the delegation feels like a subtle dance no one’s taught me all the moves of.
How many guards can Petra employ, to match those our long-time enemies have brought for their own protection but not come across as overly threatening? How close should we position ourselves; how loudly should we talk?
Which subjects will we address, and which will we tiptoe around as if the empire hasn’t been trying to crush Silana back into submission for the past eighty or so years?
Thankfully, I’ve got a lot of practice at adapting on the spot.
Petra is doing most of the talking anyway, with Tinom—who’s serving as her main overall advisor while she’s settling into her new royal role—occasionally interjecting.
The old magic advisor’s attitude toward me has taken quite a shift since he watched the godlen he worships channel their divine power through me.
To my shock, I returned from the Temple of Tranquil Skies to find him outright respectful.
He apologized so fervently I couldn’t see the use in staying angry.
Both he and our queen are taking a polite but cautious approach with the head of the delegation, a sturdy-looking man with a soldier’s bearing but the ornate clothes of a nobleman, fitted and heavily trimmed in the Darium fashion.
Since we’re meeting in Silana, Admiral Varus has conceded to speaking in the local tongue.
But while he’s said a lot of fancy words about how our countries might eventually cooperate, he hasn’t produced anything remotely concrete.
I think he’s paying more attention to Petra’s movements and her interactions with the rest of us than to what she’s saying. So far he hasn’t shown any signs of casting magic toward her, though.
Possibly word has also gotten out that Petra’s loyal riven sorcerer has a knack for sensing supernatural power. I can protect her simply by existing.
It does make for a welcome change.