14. Chapter Fourteen
“The mer killed two fleets of men the last time we took that route.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose as Casynox leveled with the map makers, their charcoal nubs practically disintegrating between their flailing hands. The two highest-ranking cartographers were bickering with each other on the best means of sending more spies into the Summer Court. Meanwhile, the scholar sat in silence.
It took years to find them. Three of the most intelligent people I’d ever met. They were pacifists by nature, forced into a rebellion that bled violence, but peace was a fool’s dream when their home was ruined by a tyrant king.
“So the mer kill us if we go northwest, and the rocks shatter our fleets if we go northeast. What other means do we have?” I asked after dropping my hands, glancing first at the brown-haired cartographer.
Talia stared wide-eyed at me before adjusting her glasses. They were lopsided, the left side cracked down the middle. Her tunic was wrinkled, her dagger’s sheath hanging onto her belt by a thread, tan pants marked with charcoal. Her silence was deafening, so I looked at the gentleman alongside her. Xaden’s dark stare was just as aloof. Then, I looked at Isaac, the only scholar I’d been fortunate enough to retain throughout my years away.
“Theoretically, the only way to avoid the merfolk or otherwise hazardous waters is by…well, trade route.”
“Trade route?” I repeated with a chuckle. “To the Summer Court? Does that still exist?”
“It does,” Isaac said as he leaned over our shared table. He glanced at the map and pointed at a faded line inked by a former cartographer—years before my time. After glancing at the date stamped at the bottom right, he continued. “This map is outdated, but the route wouldn’t have changed. The Autumn Court would be the strongest ally to King Sólkon and likely the only ships making that sort of journey so near the merfolk’s domain.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Novus wouldn’t waste resources on Sólkon when his pest issue had already drained him dry, and the other courts were either stricken by neutrality or burned by the vicious Summer King.
“So you’re suggesting our spies should find a way onto one of King Jeniathan’s fleets and somehow stay hidden for a weeks-long journey? If they survive that, they must withstand an even longer mission undercover until finding Lyren?”
“Or his grave, yes.”
Casynox chuckled. Isaac pushed aside some of his long, thin black hair and smiled subtly, twisting to my outspoken friend. Cas leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “And how would we get our men on those ships, Isaac?”
“I just theorize, Casynox. I don’t strategize—that’s your job.” Isaac’s gulp was visible, forcing the notch in his throat to bob. He narrowed his stare at the map. “But we recently captured the Staag’s Keep of the Winter Court. If we have any prisoners willing to trade their loyalty for freedom...it may be a start.”
This time, I was the one who laughed. Casynox’s face fell, but I beamed. “Isaac, you’re funnier than you let on. We’ll look into this theory—I’m sure Cas can find the perfect strategy to make it work.” I leaned forward, smile falling. “About Staag’s Keep—do we have any resources trustworthy enough to investigate activity around the castle?”
Isaac narrowed his gaze toward me. “It’d be risky sending our men so near the heart of the kingdom, no?”
I turned to Casynox and frowned, shrugging once. “Only as tricky as getting men on King Jeniathan’s ships, Isaac.”
Casynox tapped a finger on his knee. “We need to know if the throne is still being ruled from afar. Sólkon has controlled the Winter Court for centuries, inciting enough fear to make it last, but there’s word a sovereign head has taken control.”
“A usurper?” Talia muttered, scrambling for one of the books ahead of her. I lifted a hand, easing her anxious search.
“No. Sólkon is still very much in control. This is…well, this is a figurehead, somebody powerful enough to maintain the fear that holds the Winter Court together but reliant enough on him that they wouldn’t try to take it from him permanently.”
“Reliant or disinterested. That’s to be determined,” Casynox shot back at me before sighing.
Isaac’s lips curled into a pout, but he nodded. “There are scholars who take up the basement of a brothel in Staag’s Keep. I can send word and see if they know anybody close enough to the icy gates.”
Casynox blew out a groan before addressing his soldiers again. “You’re dismissed. Go complain about the stew and tidy up your quarters or whatever it is you lot do. I don’t care. Just get out of my face and report back when we have something to act on.”
Isaac’s lips ghosted into a smile, and when he stood, he gave the most half-hearted salute to his general before all three ducked out of the tent’s exit. I threw the piece of charcoal I’d been rubbing between my lips and cursed under my breath. This was useless—we were no closer to finding a way back onto Summer Court soil with Lyren out of commission.
“I think it’s time we call our losses and accept that he’s either a traitor, dead, or both.”
I hummed in agreement. “The only thing worse than a traitor is a dead one. Besides, I promised Lyra we’d do all we could to find him,” I muttered. “I owe her that.”
“Then we have no choice. We have to find somebody stupid and willing enough to sneak back onto Sólkon’s shores and sniff him out.”
“Maybe Isaac’s idea is worth looking into,” I said before chewing on my tongue. “Look into the Autumn Court trade routes and the last time they brought supplies to the Summer shores.”
“And then?” he asked, standing from his seat.
“And then we act,” I said and looked at him. “If we don’t have spies, then we have soldiers. Lyren deserves that, at least.”