“What about when he gave you orders you disagreed with?” she asked.
“I followed some of them. I didn’t follow others.” The sudden grief in the old man’s face made Luca’s heart catch. The apple of his throat bobbed hard as he swallowed. “I regret some of the things I did on each side. But I don’t regret standing by Roland. I never have.”
Is that what faith amounted to? Love and devotion? Obedience?
“I see,” she said, looking down at her lap.
Gil cleared his throat. “Lanquette said you spent the day at the prison with priests and doctors.” Disapproval laced his words.
Luca nodded, but she recognized the lecture coming and turned the subject just slightly. “Gil, what if I lift the ban on religion?”
His gray eyebrows shot up his face. “Why would you do that?” he asked slowly.
She picked her book back up and flicked its pages. “I wondered if it would help change things with the Qazāli. Give them less motivation to rebel.”
“I don’t know.” Gil stroked his mustache, his grief and lecture both seemingly forgotten. “It would be hard to convince Beau-Sang or Cantic that was a good idea. And it wouldn’t change how other Balladairans treated believers. Qazāli who want to work with them will still be best served without it, no matter what laws you make.”
Luca tugged at the cuff of her dressing gown. “What if I wanted to follow a god?”
Gil grunted as if he’d been punched. “And why… would you do that?”
“Because I’m curious.” It was hard for Luca to say the next words aloud even though she had been thinking them all day. “The magic comes from their god. The magic is real. That means the god must be real, too.”
Gil’s hand floated between his mustache and his short steel-gray hair.
Finally, he clasped both his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees. “I take it you want to learn the magic yourself.”
“That would be uncivilized of me,” she said bitterly.
“Who did you talk to?”
Luca didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Aranen din Djasha.”
Gil’s face went slack. Enunciating word by slow word, he said, “You kidnapped the wife of the leader of the rebels you’re trying to subdue.”
“I didn’t ask for her specifically, but I did ask for doctors and suspected priests. This is what came up in the nets. It’s paid off.”
Only now, though, was Luca thinking about Aranen’s ironic smile as she said her wife would never use magic to destroy a company of soldiers out of vengeance. She sniffed matter-of-factly. “The priests are valuable hostages. We’ll use them to negotiate their surrender.”
Gil worked his jaw as he sat back again, tension slipping from his body. “I suppose that might work.” He covered his eyes with his hand. “But I thought you wanted to be a new kind of queen? I can’t see how this is any different than what your father or even Nicolas would do.” His brown eyes flashed with angry heat when he uncovered them again.
“You heard Touraine,” Luca snapped. “She wants to give me an ultimatum. I’m giving her one back.”
“This is about her, then. You’re taking your anger at her out on an entire city?”
Her face warmed with anger and embarrassment both. “No, I’m not. This is about strength, Gil. This is about ending this on my terms.”
Touraine had made her choices, and Luca was free to make hers.
He nodded slowly, frowning with distaste without meeting her eyes. He stood. “Your will, Your Highness. As I said, I have faith in you. That means I’ll stand by you.” He sighed heavily. “But I thought I taught you better than this.”
“I’m doing my best, Gil,” she said. Luca pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes as if she could avoid Gil’s disappointment if she couldn’t see it. “I don’t have anyone to show me.” She looked up and saw his broad back where he’d paused with his hand on the door handle. “I want to be a good queen,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper around the tears in her throat. “I can’t do that if I don’t have the throne. You know Nicolas will keep it from me if he has any excuse.”
Gil spun slowly on his boot heels. The sound was muffled on the thick Shālan carpet. “What does it mean to be a good queen? To show everyone your power? Do you want people to respect you or just obey you? Or do you want them to believe in you?”