That didn’t matter, of course. She already knew who she would give her life to: her citizens came first.
“Whatever you need to do to fortify the compound, do it. We have other bases in Qazāl. Send for reinforcements. Where’s Beau-Sang?” snapped Luca.
The general snapped back, “The rich coward you picked to run this city is buying the first free berth out of it.”
They stared at each other, mouths hanging open at Cantic’s words, and perhaps even at the way she’d said them. Even Gil’s eyes went wide.
“He’s doing what?” Luca said, her voice small.
Cantic scrubbed her hand over her eyes above her black face scarf. “He’s fleeing the city, Your Highness. He was packing up his town house in the Quartier this morning.”
“How do you know?”
Cantic shared a look with Gil. “I’ve had him watched.” She twisted her grief rings around, around. Luca almost reached for her own rings.
“Watched.” Luca looked between the general and her most trusted advisor, who had clearly known about this but hadn’t seen fit to tell her. “Watched.”
“You said you wanted to be careful with him,” Gil said softly. “A leash?”
“I didn’t mean have it done behind my back,” Luca snapped. If Gil could do this behind her back, how could she trust his opinion of Cantic?
“Your Highness, I—did you even read the letters I sent you after the skirmish in the bazaar?” the general said.
It was hard to think back to that cloud of overwrought pain and anger. She had glanced at Cantic’s letters; most of them were updates on missing persons from the battle, and all of that was to be expected. And then came the hostage letter and accompanying finger, and then Beau-Sang as governor-general.
“Of course I did. They didn’t say anything about him.”
The deep lines in Cantic’s face deepened. “There was something strange about the missing people and how quickly he found these so-called hostages. And the culprits.”
It would take a particular kind of gruesomeness for a Balladairan to cut off another Balladairan’s finger just to get himself a place in the government. A kind of gruesomeness that sounded less and less far-fetched when taken with Aliez’s own fears about her father. Luca hadn’t even had a chance to check on the girl.
“You think he orchestrated the hostage taking.”
Cantic nodded.
“Do you think…” Sadness rose in Luca’s heart, not for herself but for a young woman whose father had had her abducted and held for a very different kind of ransom. “Do you think he had anything to do with Cheminade’s death?”
“I don’t doubt he’s capable of it, Your Highness. I’m only saying that I never found the proof.”
“Then why aren’t we sky-falling arresting him?” cried Luca. “Let’s go. Bring a squad of whatever soldiers look healthiest.”
When they arrived at the comte de Beau-Sang’s town house, Richard the servant boy was carrying a small wooden box out of the house while two Qazāli men carried out trunks and loaded them into a large carriage. The boy froze midstep when he saw Luca, his eyes wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“Beau-Sang!” Luca called. She turned to the boy while the grown men looked between her and the house. “Richard, will you take me to the comte, please?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed over the box he still held. It was a dark wood inlaid with stylized pearl lilies, perhaps a jewelry box. He scurried away without even placing it into the carriage with the trunks. Luca and Cantic followed.
Not everything in the house had been packed, but enough of the Balladairan touches—the painted forests and stags and chevaliers—were gone that the place felt hollowed out. The sudden emptiness made the sitting room feel less like a museum of Balladaire and more like an ancient tomb.
“Your Highness?”
Luca turned to see Aliez halfway down the stairs, a surprised look on her face. She did not look like she was preparing to leave. She wore tight Balladairan trousers under a bright green Qazāli tunic; her hair was in a careless bun, and her feet were bare. She seemed smaller than Luca remembered, and Luca wished she had better news for the girl.
“We’ve come for your father,” Luca said softly. “Is Bastien here?”
The young woman inhaled sharply, then padded down the stairs to join them. “He’s out.”
“You aren’t trying to run, too?” Luca murmured.