Shadow Magic - By Jaida Jones Page 0,181

statement, though it was not entirely as though he was agreeing with the Esar. It seemed more as though he was attempting to remind him of something.

“We must think of what the best course of action is for all of our people,” the Esar said, and though it sounded as though they were speaking of the same thing, I knew somehow that they weren’t.

The guard brought me my water, and I took it gratefully, careful not to drink too greedily. To be truthful, I was glad to have something to occupy me beyond the tension rising in the room, thick like the air before a thunderstorm. As little as I knew of diplomacy in Volstov, I could sense well enough that my translator was speaking beyond his place, and the Esar was not particularly keen on accepting his counsel.

Royston’s easy air from our previous conversation had disappeared, and in its place was a countenance of pure steel. I had known many men with each of those attributes, but it was much rarer to find both within the same body. At any other time, I would have dearly wished for the opportunity to know him a bit better.

However, it was not the time for my own wishes. I had the Ke-Han people to think about, and as a member of the royal family it was my duty to honor the provisional treaty my father had negotiated. Surely the Esar felt the same way. As a ruler, how could he not?

“You’re going to leave them there,” Royston said, with a terrible look on his face.

“I have no other choice,” said the Esar, in his own tongue. It was a simple enough phrase that even I could understand it.

“The magicians can take care of themselves,” Royston translated as the Esar continued speaking. The undercurrent of anger in his voice was subtle, but unmistakable when compared to a Ke-Han warlord’s neutral tones. “He hopes that if we move swiftly enough, the troops in the mountains may be dispatched without the Emperor’s knowledge. It would be difficult to replicate such a feat in the capital, and he does not wish to disturb the peace that has doubtless taken root among the people in your country. He feels that sending troops through to the lapis city would only set off a panic that could set the diplomatic process back months, if not to the very beginning. As we all realize,” he added, and this was him speaking once more, “to march upon the capital, no matter what the circumstances are, would be an act of war.”

I understood, then, what had caused the change in atmosphere and what Royston was frowning about now, twisting one of his many rings over and over as though he wished it were the Esar’s neck. They were going to leave the diplomats in the capital to fend for themselves.

The cup slipped from my fingers, spilling what water remained all over the tabletop.

“He’ll kill them,” I said urgently, as one of the guards moved to dry the wood and retrieve the cup. In my fervor, I had little concern for what in the Ke-Han court would have been a humiliating breach in protocol. “My brother takes no prisoners. No warlord does. If he discovers what’s happened, he won’t bother to keep them as hostages. They won’t have a chance.”

“I’m aware of that,” Royston murmured in Ke-Han, so that I understood that while I spoke enough Volstovic to get by, the Esar did not mirror my knowledge. Royston then began to translate what I’d said, though I could tell by his gestures and the tone of his voice that he’d added in several of his own personal flourishes.

The Esar touched his clipped beard with his thumb, clearly thinking something over. He, too, wore rings—it appeared to be a common practice for men there, though it made me wonder whether the ornamentation might get in the way of their swords—and they glinted like jeweled eyes in the light of the reception room. When he spoke next his words came more slowly, though even I was not naive enough to mistake that care for hesitance. My head was beginning to swim with everything that was in it, the importance of it all under the strain of the fever. Instead of trying to understand the Esar’s words this time, I watched Royston. After all, Volstovics were not trained to hide their emotions, and my plan was the next best way of evaluating what was being said

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