a low voice. This man was a royal too, years ago. He threw his crown away like so many here. “You’re all currently doing the same.”
Under the table, I clench a fist, digging my nails into my palms. I’ve had more than enough of this posturing from every corner of the room. It’s nothing more than a useless waste of time and energy.
“Forgive me,” I blurt out, half rising in my seat. Cutting off Radis and my grandmother before they can really start splitting hairs on Silver sacrifice is the least I can do. “I know I’m going off agenda here, but we only have so much time this week, and I think we need to focus on the matter at hand.”
Radis turns his sneer on me. It’s nothing compared to what I’m used to. “And what do you think that is, Officer Calore?”
If the title is meant to sting, he has certainly failed. Better than Your Majesty.
I straighten under his scrutiny, now standing fully. I’m more use on the battlefield or in the training ring, but I’m no stranger to speaking in front of a crowded room. “Montfort is well defended; the Scarlet Guard are mobile and military ready. As it stands, the Nortan States are the weakest link in this alliance. The soft underbelly. We’re trying to rebuild as fast as we can, but even under the best of circumstances, it will take years. You know that,” I say, gesturing to the Montfort delegation with a gentle hand. “You’ve done it before, and done it well.”
The premier nods. “There are always improvements to be made, but yes, we’ve done what we can to build the Republic.”
Davidson is a reasonable man and Julian’s friend. If anyone will understand our plight, it must be him.
“We’re trying to do it all with an ax hanging over our heads,” I bite out. Even here, in a stoic library, I feel the threat of another war looming. It breathes down my neck like a ghost. “The Lakelands are regrouping, the nymph queens will return, and when they do, they’re going to find a country barely able to feed itself, let alone fight through the winter.”
Without looking, Davidson shuffles through his papers and pulls out a page I can’t read from this distance. He doesn’t seem surprised. “Do you have a suggestion?”
I have too many. The list rattles off in my head, quick as gunfire. “We need a quick stabilization of our economy, our national treasury—”
Radis folds his arms. “Whose national treasury, exactly? Your brother’s?”
I do all I can to temper a reaction, keeping my face still and empty. Inside, my heart still bleeds for the brother I lost. Across the room, Mare shifts in her seat, her eyes faraway.
“My country’s,” I reply, stone-voiced. Whatever court Radis grew up in was not as married to etiquette as my own. “Anything still sitting in the vaults of Archeon belongs to our people now.”
From the Scarlet Guard, the Command general Drummer laughs unkindly. His portly face flushes crimson with the effort. “So you’ve been distributing it fairly among the Reds, how lovely.”
I clench my jaw. “We’ve been using it to rebuild—”
“Silver cities,” Drummer mutters under his breath, even as I keep talking.
“—bolster wages, improve conditions for Red soldiers, improve the tech cities, maintain the harvest—”
General Swan looks at me over steepled hands. Her smile is tight. “Then it sounds like you’re doing quite well.”
It takes all my restraint not to laugh in her face.
“We’re going to institute price controls throughout the States, to avoid price gouging of food and other resources—”
I know the next voice in my bones. She’s thunder in broad daylight.
“From the Reds now in full control of what they produce. Farmers. Factory workers.”
Mare crosses her arms tightly, almost painfully so, in an effort to shield herself from the scrutiny of the room. She doesn’t enjoy things like this. Never has. Even if she’s good at it, never backing down. I stare back at her across the floor. The yards feel like a canyon and an inch, too far and too close.
For her, I have no quick response; the words die in my throat.
On my left, one of the Silvers speaks in my place. Welle, a former governor, has a voice like honey, too sweet and sticky. “Someone else owns the tools they’re using, Miss Barrow,” he says with punchable smugness.
Mare doesn’t hesitate. “They are welcome to use them,” she snaps. This man used to rule the village she lived in, and all the