“We’ll marry Javier to his daughter,” Sandalia says. “He should be married soon anyway.”
“This urgency is new, Sandalia.” Rodrigo puts his wine cup away and does the same with hers, so he can fold her hands in his. “What prompts it?”
“There’s nothing more to prepare,” Sandalia says. “Either I move or I accept waiting for Lorraine’s death before Lanyarch is released from Reformation hold. I move now, or I’ve spent a lifetime preparing for nothing. I’m not willing to wait, Rodrigo. As heir to Lanyarch’s throne through Charles, I have a claim to Aulun’s, and Javier will look well upon that seat. If I do nothing, I am only a woman. Not a queen, not a visionary, not an expansionist as all of us but you want to be—”
Rodrigo laughs. “You and Lorraine and Irina are women, Dalia. You rule well, all of you, but none of you have been to war. It’s not that I don’t want to regain Aulun for the Church. It’s that I know war’s price personally, and prefer my expansions to come through the signing of a treaty. You’re determined to make this move?”
“Soon.” Sandalia nods. “There’ll be a moment when the stars align, when the time to move is clear. Maybe Irina—”
“Irina,” Rodrigo says, “has proposed a treaty with me.”
Sandalia picks up her wine again, using the motion to cover surprise. “Over a wedding bed?”
“Over a fleet. It seems the imperatrix hungers for economic expansion, if not new lands.”
“Khazar’s five times the size of Echon as a whole. Irina doesn’t need any more land. What will she give in return, Rodrigo? The thing you need most—”
“It is not a marriage proposal,” Rodrigo says firmly. “She offers troops, not an heir.”
“Troops. For the war you don’t want to fight?”
“It’s not always necessary to meet battle on the fields, Dalia. They can be fought in mind and heart and on paper, and if I have Khazar’s military to call on, the Red Bitch can’t possibly hope to rally an army of equal size. All the better if she can be pressured into capitulating without a drop of blood spilt. Aulun will come back to Cordula.” Rodrigo’s voice deepens, a passion for his religion dominating all else. “We lost too many faithful in the aftermath of the Heretical Trials, and Aulun’s rebellion only sparks more radical thought against the Church. Aulun must be brought to heel within our lifetimes, or Cordula seems weak. I will not have the world worshipping a false god, Sandalia. I will not have it.”
“And so you’ll threaten and bluster with Irina’s army and hope for Lorraine’s acquiesence?”
Rodrigo focuses on her again, putting God away for the world he must live in. His expression goes dry, and drier still are his words. “God save Echon from women who rule. The kaiser and the caesar in Parna must shudder every time they think of their neighbors.”
“But not the Essandian prince?” Sandalia arches her eyebrows, teasing, and is rewarded with Rodrigo’s grin.
“The Essandian prince believes God’s divine touch graces us with the leaders we deserve, my sister. We’ve known a stretch of peace through these years. Perhaps God feels we’ve needed the gentle touch of female regents to guide us through it.”
“Or perhaps we have peace because women don’t look to war first.” Ambition rides Sandalia’s words, and she repeats, “Not first,” beneath her breath. “But no true leader shirks from it when it’s necessary. Lorraine’s too old to pitch a battle herself. She won’t see me coming, and if Irina is offering you troops—”
“She offers me troops, Dalia, not Gallin.”
“Gallin and Essandia are allies, my lord.”
“You would have me take Khazarian troops to conquer Aulun in your name?” Danger warns in the edges of Rodrigo’s question. Sandalia ducks her head, making herself petite and pretty and harmless, then looks up again with a flirt of eyelashes.
“In Cordula’s name, brother. In Cordula’s name.”
* * * *
ROBERT, LORD DRAKE
27 June 1587
Alunaer, capital of Aulun
“We are unobserved?” The question is a matter of ritual, thirty years’ habit forcing it to Robert’s lips even when he knows as well as his queen that their meeting room is cloistered against all listeners. Knows better than she, indeed, though he can never confess to the unearthly skill that allows him to be absolutely certain of their privacy.
“Have done, Robert,” Lorraine says with ill-concealed impatience. “We have yet to hear whispers of anything discussed in this room hissing around the court. We are unobserved, and