Chapter Three
Xandril
“Send word to the borders,” I say, knowing Valenar is only a few paces behind me. “Whoever they can spare.”
“Xan—”
“And send a direct missive to Hilduin. If anyone can whip these men into shape it’s—”
“Xan,” Val tries again.
“They’re going to need intense conditioning, and—”
“Xandril,” Valenar snaps, grabbing my wrist with his tail and tugging me back.
Once I’m facing him, he’s suddenly sheepish, rubbing the back of his head and not meeting my eyes.
“Look, I’m glad you feel like you’ve found something to do with the guard, but do you think you might be avoiding the bigger matter at hand?”
We’re halfway back to the war room, and it’s the first time I’ve noticed the chill since we stopped fighting. Snarling, fists clenched at my sides, I bite back my rage.
“And what would you have me do instead? Nothing I’ve tried so far has made a bit of difference. If there is one thing I’m able to do properly, shouldn’t I do it?”
He grits his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping from the force. “Reforming the king’s guard isn’t enough—”
“Do you think I don’t know that?!” I snap back, letting in far more of my desperation than I mean to.
Val’s ears flatten against his head, nearly disappearing in his shaggy red hair.
“I know it’s not enough,” I continue, trying to soften the impact of my last words. “But it’s the only thing I’ve got right now.”
Val lifts his head at that, the light sparking in his eyes all too familiar. Equal parts exhilarating and dread-inducing, that look means he’s got an idea, and all I can do is hold on for the ride.
“Come,” he says, indicating his head toward a nearby door. I still don’t know where half the doors in this castle go, but it doesn’t seem to matter since I always emerge where I need to.
Even though I’m sure we weren’t anywhere near the royal rooms, we emerge into the war room, our plans still spread out where we left them.
“Val, we’ve already looked at this from every—”
He shakes his head. “I have a different idea…one you’re not going to like, but if you truly think matters hopeless—”
“I’ll consider just about anything at this point,” I grumble, slumping into one of the heavy wooden chairs with a defeated sigh.
His rueful chuckle doesn’t inspire much confidence. “Just remember you said that.”
That makes me sit up, eyes narrowing at my oldest and dearest friend. “What scheme are you dreaming up now?”
His tail twitches, one ear flicking like there’s a fly buzzing around it. “Do you remember how I found myself in Emerald?”
It takes me a moment, but the persistent pressure of his gaze finally makes it click, and I shoot to my feet.
“No. Absolutely not. Nothing good can come of dealing with one of those cheats.”
“Nothing?” Val challenges with an arched brow, arms folded in front of his chest. “And what good will come of you letting your lands wither to dust?”
My blood chills. My lands. Mine to protect and preserve. No matter what.
When I took the throne from Farandir, I accepted the responsibility to do what’s necessary for the reach. If that means signing away my everlasting soul, then so be it. I knew what I was getting into.
With a heavy sigh, Val sinks into one of the chairs, running his fingers through his hair.
“I know it’s not ideal,” he says, rubbing circles from his temples to the base of his horns. “But I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought it would go poorly. I’ve worked with this Dealmaker before, and he’s an odd one. Unusually fair. He’s never even collected his fee from me.”
I sit beside him, the weight of the decision bowing my spine toward the round table.
Dealmakers already possess a great deal of power that isn’t well understood.
Giving one access to the resources of a king—especially of the largest reach—could have devastating impacts on the realm.
It wouldn’t be unthinkable for a Dealmaker to bide their time, playing at a fair broker until they’d amassed enough writs to launch a full-scale assault.
“I am willing to be a part of any plan you devise. You know I am behind you to the bitter end. But if ever you decide you have nothing more to lose—consider him.”
As usual, Val knows just what to say to strike me in the heart. He knows as well as I do that that point is already upon us, he’s only giving me the space to pretend it’s my choice.
A massive pain in my ass. But the best friend I’ve ever had.
And the only one I know I can trust to my dying breath.
“Summon him,” I grit through a clenched jaw.
The wolfish demon who appears in a puff of blue smoke examines his black claws as if appearing in random places is an everyday occurrence.
For him, it probably is. When he finally looks up, his yellow eyes shift from Valenar to me, then back again.
His upper lip retracts just enough to display the points of his canines.
“You’re not looking to amend your deal, are you?” the Dealmaker asks with all the concern of a snake finding an untended warren of kits.
“Not me,” Val says, gesturing my way.
“Your Highness?” the Dealmaker asks, doing a terrible job of seeming uninterested after that revelation. He’s practically salivating.
A prickle of hesitation lingers in the tension of my shoulders. This is a bad idea. There’s got to be another way to save the reach and end this winter. There’s got to be…
I can’t even finish the thought. The dry creaking of bare branches overhead drowns out any concerns I have for myself, replacing them with the urgent need to repair my home.
“Emerald Reach needs your help,” I say, swallowing whatever scraps of pride I have left to bare myself to this glorified grifter.
Taking turns to fill in where the other leaves off, Val and I explain the dire situation we find ourselves in. The Dealmaker met with Farandir toward the end of his reign, so he knows what this reach has suffered, but I don’t have much hope he’ll have a cure for us.
After listening to what we have to say, the Dealmaker considers our predicament, his contemplative silence stretching on until Val starts fidgeting in his seat.
“So, if I’m to understand correctly, you are attempting to earn the approval of the throne, and you intend to do this via endearing your subjects to you?”
When he says it like that, it sounds even more absurd than when we’d discussed it amongst ourselves. An impossible fantasy. The spikes covering my body and the heat in my veins are enough to ensure these people will never accept me. I’d be a fool to convince myself otherwise.
“I knew this was a mistake,” I say, pushing back from the table and nearly toppling my chair as I stand to leave.
I make it only a couple of paces before the Dealmaker appears before me, a small puff of blue smoke around his ankles.
“If this is His Majesty’s level of patience, I am beginning to see the need for assistance,” the Dealmaker says archly, directing a look past me to Valenar.
“So you can help?” Val asks, his voice bearing the smallest bit of hope that I don’t dare let myself kindle.
“I can give you the tools you need, yes,” he says with a curt nod.
“And in exchange?” I ask, voice trembling with emotions threatening to bubble up to the surface. Frustration, fury, despair, and that small glimmer of hope I see reflected in my best friend’s eyes—I don’t know what’s most at risk of boiling over when they’re all mixed in an overwhelming stew.
“We don’t need to concern ourselves with that right now,” the Dealmaker says, the earlier hint of irritation in his voice melting into something more soothing. Placating.
This is too big of a deal for him to screw up, I realize.
Which only makes me wonder again if this is anything I should be getting involved with. The only idea worse than bargaining with a Dealmaker is writing a blank check to one. What might I be dooming the reach to in the future?
Then again, at the rate we’re going, Emerald Reach won’t have a future.
Crownwood’s power should be enough to keep outsiders from teleporting into the castle walls.
That this Dealmaker could place himself in the keep—the innermost rooms reserved for royals and their business—is a vulnerability that I can’t overlook.
If I don’t do something to strengthen this reach soon, it will only be a matter of time before someone tries to take it from me.
Or the Wilds beat them to it.
I grumble my frustration, clenching and unclenching my fists. My life was a lot simpler when I could fight all of my problems, but punching isn’t going to get me anywhere with this one.
“Whatever your price, it cannot bring harm to Emerald Reach or its subjects,” I say through clenched teeth.
The Dealmaker scoffs, managing to look both mildly offended and completely nonplussed.
“I don’t know what you think my aims are, but sowing destruction and chaos are not among them.
I happen to think you’re a far better regent than the former and would like to see you succeed in bringing Emerald Reach back to its previous glory.
My wife quite misses the festivals around the Verdant Eclipse—consider me selfish if you must.”
I glance back at Valenar who only arches a brow in an ‘I told you’ kind of way. Maybe this Dealmaker is unusually fair. I still don’t trust it.
But right now, I don’t have any better options. I can’t let the reach or the people I promised to serve down.
“All right,” I agree, trying to bite off the end of the words before they can reach him. But it’s too late; he’s already grinning as he produces a roll of parchment covered in text so small and cramped it would take me half a year to decipher it. A wise man would take the time to read it all.
I’d like to consider myself wise, but I’m also desperate, and that overrides whatever good sense might be left holding me back. Before I can give myself a chance to think better of it, I’ve signed the contract, and the Dealmaker sends it off with a wave of his hand and a puff of blue smoke.
“Perfect,” he says, smiling with too many teeth. “I’ll have her delivered before the Full Moon.”
It takes a heartbeat for the words to register, and he’s already stepping back when I echo, “Her?” My gaze darts to Valenar, but he looks as clueless and bewildered as I feel.
“Yes, her,” the Dealmaker says, mischief in his yellow eyes, his grin bordering on gleeful. “Your bride,” he adds, fading into a cloud of blue smoke.