“Stop with the games.” Neve pitched her voice low, made a concentrated effort to unclench her hands from fists for the benefit of anyone who might observe them. “Your plan for Floriane is foolish. The Alperans are probably just holding out for a better price. If Belvedere keeps at them—”
“Your first mistake is to think this is only about grain,” Kiri cut in. “Yes, the Alperans are just greedy. Yes, Belvedere, with all his cunning, could probably make a deal with them in a day or so. But this is a golden opportunity, Neverah. One we would be foolish to pass up.”
There was a subtle heft to that we. Neve crossed her arms. Her heartbeat marked time against her rib cage.
“Zophia is old,” Kiri continued. “Her time draws near. Tealia”— her lips pulled into a grimace— “is currently slated as her successor. It’s not an exaggeration to say her appointment would be disastrous for our . . . experiments.”
Inside the Shrine, mere feet away, the bloodied branch shards of the Wilderwood waited. Neve shifted on her feet.
“Arick and I going to Floriane serves three purposes, all of them necessary for us to continue weakening the Wilderwood’s hold on your sister.” Her hands resurfaced from her wide sleeves, ticking points off on her fingers. “It reinforces our religious power, serving as a reminder to Floriane and everyone else that we are favored, that word from the Valleydan Temple is law. It gets us our grain. And once we’re successful, it might make the Queen reconsider Zophia’s heir.”
There was the crux of it, the repayment Kiri would expect for momentarily weaseling Neve out of her marriage. “The Queen? Why not Zophia herself?”
“She’s set in her ways.” Kiri waved a dismissive hand. “And between the two of us, more concerned with wine than with her devotions, most evenings. She’s made a decision, and nothing but word from the Queen will make her change it, simply because doing so would be an inconvenience.”
“So I try to get my mother to appoint you as the heir,” Neve said, breaking it down to its most blunt terms, “while you and Arick reinforce our religious power by clearing the harbor.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which you seem very convinced you can do.”
“Of course I can.” Kiri lifted her hand and lightly touched one of the leaves on the hedge next to the Shrine. The veins on her wrist went dark, as if shadows ran there instead of blood. An iced, ozonic scent peppered the air— the atmosphere right before a lightning storm, but somehow cold. What emptiness might smell like.
The leaf Kiri touched browned, withered. Fell.
This was what the twisting of the trees in the Shrine bought, the second piece of the dual reward for weakening the Wilderwood. The possibility they could debilitate it enough to let Red go, and this power of . . . of death, of decay.
Seeing that magic at work would be enough to make anyone cooperate.
Neve chewed her lip, not quite ready to give in just yet. “Becoming High Priestess is quite the repayment for nothing more than the delay of a marriage neither party wants.”
“Why just a delay, Neverah? Once I am High Priestess, I will hold quite a lot of sway with your mother. Perhaps enough to get you out of marrying Arick entirely.” Kiri paused. “Perhaps enough to push her toward someone else as your betrothed.”
Something like hope lapped at the bottom of her heart. Neve swallowed. “That would be a pleasant outcome.”
“Quite.” Kiri reached out, touched the hedge again, almost absently this time. Again, the shadowed veins; again, a cold scent and a dead leaf.
A slight breeze nudged the desiccated leaf toward Neve’s foot; she sidestepped it, unwilling to let it touch her.
“Come now, First Daughter.” Kiri tucked her hands back into her sleeves, veins now undarkened. “Don’t be skittish. You could do it, too, if you wanted. All who give blood can.”
“No, thank you.” Her voice was prim, but the metronome of her pulse sped up. “The power doesn’t matter to me. Only weakening the Wilderwood’s hold on Red so she can escape.”
The priestess’s eyes flickered, as if in any other circumstance she might’ve rolled them. “Yes. Well. Rest assured, the Wilderwood is weakening, which should loosen its ties to your sister. We’re both getting what we want.”
On the cobblestones, the dead leaf fluttered. The breeze picked up, pushed it farther away.
“In any case,” Kiri said, “this will be convincing enough to get us our grain.” A flash of teeth in the weak sunlight. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we can raise prayer-taxes after word gets around. Yes, we’ll all get what we want, just like I was told.”