Chapter 20
When we returned to the Citadel four mornings later, it was in the peaceful quiet that suffused the streets before the sun rose.
The rest of our travel had been uneventful but rushed.
Despite his outer calm and small talk, it was clear Harthon wasn’t comfortable being away from the Citadel for such a long time, particularly with Koerlyn breathing down his neck.
It was also clear that our kiss was simply a secret of the night, not to be addressed or repeated.
His hand still rested on my hip from time to time as we rode, but he’d otherwise maintained an objective distance, leaving me to sleep on my own the past few nights and treating our training sessions with the same businesslike regard from our first time.
Meanwhile, our moment together replayed in my mind more times than I could count, as well as his promise to keep me and Merelda safe whether or not I helped him.
Never in my life had I pined over a man or a moment. I knew I was dangerously close to changing that.
“Koerlyn attacked two border villages over the course of three days, but we took them down easily,” North reported, flanked by Callen and Ana.
We sat around the table in the Citadel’s library, having come directly from the stables. In desperate need of a bath, I smelled of horse and sweat, but the serious expressions on their faces warned of bad news that needed to be shared.
“Too easily,” Callen added.
He and Ana had welcomed me back with relieved smiles, as if they were genuinely happy that our short adventure had left me in one piece. North had merely met my eyes with disinterested acknowledgment.
I supposed it was progress from a scowl.
“They were tests,” Harthon stated, rather than asked.
“He wants to learn where he can enter our Territory. I fear that continuing to beat him is going to encourage stronger attacks and more creative methods,” Ana said, proving exactly why she was Harthon’s minister.
She may not charge into battle like Callen or North, but she was tactical in her own right.
“In the future, strategically failing his tests may be beneficial. If we fool him into thinking you have a weakness, we can anticipate his offensive,” North offered gruffly.
“And it would come at the expense of at least one village,” Harthon finished. The meaning of that settled over our conversation like a lead weight. “We can’t do that.”
“Then we’ll have to plan an offensive. We can’t simply wait for Koerlyn to figure out the best way to destroy us or grab Etarla. But of course, that all depends on whether or not we have a trip to plan into the Domus.”
Three pairs of eyes slid to me, and I just managed to stop myself from curling back into my seat. Here, I’d been afraid to have this conversation with Harthon. If only I knew I’d be having it with the four of them, instead.
“You don’t have a trip to plan right now,” I said, trying not to falter at the way Ana and Callen’s faces fell. Their disappointment brought the sour taste of guilt to my tongue.
North rubbed at his eyes. “Well, we’re even more fucked than I thought we were.”
“What’s changed?” Harthon demanded.
Ana sighed, clasping her hands together. She didn’t attempt to soften the blow. “We have a crop plague. Our scientists reported it to us two days ago. It seems to have started in a northern village, but it’s quickly spreading.”
Harthon’s chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “All crops, or only some?”
“Potatoes, which are a majority of our people’s food. Grains are unaffected for now, but that could come later.”
“How does it spread?”
“Either by wind or direct contact. They need to perform tests.”
Harthon rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “Did you stop all potato trades?”
Ana nodded, and I noticed the dark circles that marred the skin beneath her eyes. “It takes time for word to spread. There’s little chance that we stopped all diseased crops from making their rounds. They won’t enter the city center, at least, but that’s our only guarantee.”
My skin turned cold as the weight of the situation crashed over me.
Even with Harthon’s animal preservation efforts, there simply wasn’t enough meat to feed everyone.
Root vegetables and grains were our main sources of food, and they were already difficult enough to grow healthily in this environment.
Having one completely demolished by disease was catastrophic.
“What kinds of potatoes do you grow in this Territory?” I asked.
While Merelda and I mostly relied on purchased grains, she’d always made it a point to share pieces of knowledge regarding the natural world.
Animals, plants, crops, earth-born diseases—it was a part of the education she bestowed upon me.
I wasn’t always attentive, but I understood potatoes.
To my surprise, it was Harthon who answered my question. “Goldens are the most popular. Sometimes the red variety, if I’m not mistaken.”
The man never ceased to confound me. Not only did he fight and dance, but he knew of plants, as well. Next, he would serenade us on the flute.
North, rather unsurprisingly, harshly yanked me from my wonder. “Is there a point, or do you just enjoy discussing potatoes?”
I pinned him with a glare. “Not all potato varieties are the same. Obviously,” I added before the bearded man could snark.
“Diseases that affect some won’t affect others.
Reds and goldens are prone to being afflicted by similar diseases.
Russets aren’t in the same category. They’re also more expensive, which is why not many people grow them. ”
Harthon tapped his finger on the table, considering the information before addressing Ana. “Have our scientists examined other species?”
“Not that I know of. They’re focused on mitigation right now, not solutions.”
“That needs to change.” He threw me a glance. “Have them look at other varieties, beginning with russets.”
The relief I hoped to see didn’t fall upon Ana’s face.
“I will. It’s a possible long-term solution, but we don’t have enough here in the Citadel to feed an entire Territory.
Even if russets are the answer, it’ll take months to grow new ones, and people won’t last that long. Hundreds, maybe thousands will die.”
Harthon nodded, apparently already aware of this somber fact. “Is the disease visible to the eye?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll be sending soldiers to every village to burn any infected farms,” he decided grimly. “We’ll need regular inspections of healthy vegetable fields as well as our grains to stop any spread. We’ll also need to commandeer grain and vegetable farms to ration food.”
“We all know how that went last time,” North muttered, crossing his arms.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean, last time?” I interjected. Second had never experienced crop issues, at least in our area. Was this a common occurrence?
“Our largest grain growers were affected by bad river water last year. Rationing provisions didn’t go over well,” Ana explained.
That was probably an understatement. Rationing already-meager resources would strain even the most understanding and practical of people.
“They’ll be fairly compensated again. We need to make an example of how the Citadel is participating in the rationing, too,” Harthon said.
Nodding her agreement, Ana proposed, “The Conquering Day celebration will be a good time to showcase that. We need to take advantage of that opportunity.”
North regarded her with doubt. “Example or not, they’re still going to fight us on it. What do we do with those who rebel?”
Harthon didn’t hesitate. “Anyone who is too selfish to help the common good, to help save babies and children who are starving to death, will be handled appropriately.” Based on the unmoving conviction in his tone, it was rather apparent what he meant by “handled appropriately.”
Handled with the ruthlessness that made his name.
Blood and violence and general dismay were likely involved.
Good, declared the voice in my head, appreciating Harthon’s position. Thousands didn’t deserve to die because of the uncooperative and selfish few. I knew what it was like to be part of those thousands. I always had been one of them, except no one—no Princeps—had looked out for me.
Callen chose that moment to chime in. “I’m glad that we have some kind of solution here, but as our lovely scientists have told us many times, crop diseases will continue happening, thanks to the Domus.
Our resources are screwed. Getting inside Centralis is the only solution that offers real help.
” Bright green irises landed on me expectantly.
“Fish Eyes? That crazy hag offer any sort of hope?”
All at once, the expansive library became suffocatingly small, the walls collapsing in as I stared at Callen and heard the cautious desperation so plainly in his question.
Thousands didn’t deserve to die because of the uncooperative and selfish few. The thought had been targeted at those who rebelled against rations, but the statement now turned against me, prodding with sharp edges that pierced the steadily weakening beliefs I’d steadfastly held this entire time.
I didn’t want the responsibility of knowing the path—it wasn’t mine to have.
This was the stubborn opinion that’d been fact for me.
But what was actually fact was that, regardless of whether I ever desired to be in this position, I was here, with the opportunity to bring us into the Domus and access the resources so many of us needed.
The crop plague only exacerbated that need.
To refuse that duty was selfish. Disgustingly so.