CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PIECE BY PIECE
I leave the temple early. Partly because listening to Kaidren feed people lie after lie is making me ill. Mostly because I’ve been presented an opportunity.
The Nights are occupied, which means their rooms are not.
Sef keeps guard in the corridor outside, equipped with a feather duster in case anyone questions her presence here, while I snoop.
The Nights’ room is spacious—far larger than mine.
The walls are pale blue and white, hung with paintings of oceans and sand to remind them of home, and the floor is so polished, I can almost see my reflection in the wood.
Such luxury is to be expected, but it still irks me that guests from a kingdom we hate get nicer chambers than I do.
Their chambers are impeccably neat. The only thing out of place is an inkwell and pen sitting on the bedside table.
Curious, I open the drawer. I rustle through a few Shadow Queen pamphlets and beneath those, find blank sheets of parchment.
I flip through every sheet in the stack, but there’s nothing written on any of them.
I frown. There’s ink on the tip of the pen. Someone’s obviously been writing something. My eyes scan the room and stop on the faintly glowing fireplace.
The fire has been snuffed, but the embers burn red, and the hearth is filled with ash and bits of something else that catch my eye.
I crouch beside the hearth. Mixed in with the ash are charred bits of parchment.
I sift delicately through the fireplace, trying to keep my fingertips from burning on any cooling embers. Most of the parchment is too burned to read more than a few words, but I find a chunk that’s charred around the edges, with enough writing in the middle to make out whole sentences.
poison us, we steal from them. It is only fair. Farvelle does not belong to
The rest of that line is charred, but it picks up again in the next one.
not a treaty violation if we take what is not theirs to begin with
I’m only able to read a few sentences, but my stomach drops. Farvelle is a farm town on the outskirts of Ophera.
Just a few weeks ago, the Shadow Queen received a letter from an Honorate claiming there were Petruvian soldiers on Opheran land.
Land that is supposed to be under Virdeian control.
Just today, the Nights—ambassadors for the Petruvian King—exchanged whispers regarding their King’s plans for Ophera.
I’m not sure what they’re plotting or when, but I know one thing for certain: Petruvia is looking to steal more of my home.
Luc stares at the burned scrap of letter. “Where did you get this?”
He already knows where I got it, or at least suspects. “Does it matter? This was written to Taelon Night. Petruvia is plotting to take more of Ophera.” I loom over his desk, studying each twitch of his expression, trying to guess what he’s thinking.
Luc massages his temples, looking far more exhausted than he did when I entered. “You don’t know that. This doesn’t prove—”
“It does.” I speak over him, trying not to raise my voice.
“I went to the library and found a copy of the treaty.” Before he can ask, I set the text in front of him, dragging a finger over the line in question.
“There’s a loophole. This most recent version gives control of this cluster of fields on the eastern border to Praeceptor Anleck. ”
Luc’s head jerks up, recognizing the issue. “It specifies his name?”
“Yes. Only for this land in Farvelle. This is a massive oversight.” Praeceptor Anleck had the throne before Luc. Which means, right now, there is no Praeceptor Anleck, leaving a whole section of Opheran land allocated to no one. It seems Petruvia has discovered this error and intends to exploit it.
Five years ago, there was no Tournament of Thrones or treaty renegotiations when Luc ascended to power. It left one glaring issue.
Luc is silent, skimming the section of the treaty I’ve pointed out to him. He says nothing for several moments, then groans. “I’ll meet with the decurio. Ask the General to get more soldiers in Ophera as soon as possible.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s finished. “He won’t do it.”
“Why not?”
Any other day, it would irritate me how little he knows about the laws of the Republic he rules. “The decurio isn’t allowed to send more troops to Ophera. Not without approval in the Honorate.”
During our training sessions over the past couple of weeks, Flynn has been explaining Virdei’s security measures.
There are gateposts at intervals around the base of the mountain, each armed with members of the decurio.
If there’s a breach in the perimeter, they light a beacon, signaling other gateposts to react and getting the attention of sentries farther up the mountain to mobilize the rest of the army.
Virdei takes securing its borders very seriously.
That same courtesy is never extended to Ophera.
The placement of soldiers within Virdei and in times of war is up to the discretion of the Praeceptor and the General of the decurio.
But for lands outside Virdei during peacetime, it requires the approval of the Honorate.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Normally, the Shadow Queen can nudge the Honorate to do as she wishes. Except there’s someone impersonating the Shadow Queen and blackmailing Honorate to block any order that would allow me to send more soldiers to protect Ophera.
My mind spins. “You don’t need Honorate approval to send more soldiers in times of war.”
Luc frowns. “You’re not suggesting I declare war on Petruvia?”
I want to scream, but he’s right. The treaty is clear. First to spill blood or violate the treaty is the first to declare war. Petruvia might be plotting against us, but they haven’t spilled Virdeian blood. We can’t declare war over a burned piece of parchment I stole from a diplomat’s fireplace.
Knowing he’s right doesn’t ease my panic. Ophera is my home. I’ve spent years trying to protect it in secret, and now I’m powerless to do anything. “I don’t know.” I throw up my hands, fighting tears of frustration.
Luc’s expression softens. “I’ll talk to the General. We’ll discuss the loophole in the treaty and the possibility of a Petruvian attack, just as soon as the second trial is over. We’ll come up with a plan then.”
I try and fail to tamp down my anger. “After the second trial? That might be too late. You don’t know when they’re planning to attack.”
“Neither do you.” With an infuriatingly calm smile, Luc circles his desk and places his hands on my shoulders.
“Mira, listen to me. I will handle this. But I can only do so much at once. There’s a council meeting tomorrow, and the second trial is just a few days away.
I can’t deal with this right this second, but I will as soon as I can. ”
“Ophera is important to me, Luc.”
“I know. And I’m not going to let anything happen to it. The second trial is in five days. Give me five days, and then I will sort this out.”
I stare at him, doubting.
“I promise, Mira.”
He means it. As he always does.
I pretend to believe him. As I always do.