After the officers had spoken, Cantic turned weary eyes on Luca. Perhaps Luca only imagined the pleading in her expression. “You don’t owe the girl anything, Your Highness.”
Perhaps Luca didn’t owe her. Perhaps Lanquette and Guérin would have caught the would-be assassin in time, even without the lieutenant’s alert. But Luca had given her word. She wanted to be the kind of queen whose word meant something.
As if he knew what Luca was weighing, Colonel Taurvide crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You can’t be worried about keeping your word to a Sand. They’re like children. Promise them sweets to make them happy, then put them off until they forget.” He waved a hand carelessly. “She can’t come back for a sweet bun when she’s dead, can she?”
He grinned at his compatriots, and all but Cantic joined him, chuckling.
The young captain Rogan was smug but had been reserved thus far. He clenched his fist in restrained triumph, and something about that felt wrong, too.
Luca had been careless with her words to the soldier at Cheminade’s dinner. Her offer had been flippant; she had only expected to give the woman some money or some other royal bauble. The lieutenant had tried to save Luca’s life, though, and that was worth something.
And, perversely, the more Colonel Taurvide and the young captain wanted Lieutenant Touraine dead, the more Luca wanted her to live.
Those were not the only reasons she wanted Touraine alive.
“To the contrary. I owe that woman my life as much as I owe my guards,” Luca said from her chair. Flanked by Lanquette and Guérin, she felt more force behind her words. Still, she was in hostile territory. The military didn’t look kindly on conceding military decisions to politicians. “It’s one of the highest levels of loyalty. As for her crimes, the evidence is not conclusive. Even if she were guilty, we can’t deny that she could be useful. She has a history of loyalty to General Cantic. She’s Qazāli. She’s met the rebels.”
The soldier sounded educated enough, even if she wasn’t a scholar. Her comportment at Cheminade’s dinner was more than impressive. And she had combat skills. With Nasir gone…
“Let’s send her back to the rebels. As my assistant, my negotiator.”
The line in Cantic’s forehead deepened as she frowned. “We’re not negotiating with rebels against the empire, Your Highness.”
Luca folded her hands over her cane in front of her. Slowing down is the key to control. A rhetorician’s guide. She let herself take a breath, instead of rushing to justify herself and prove to Cantic why they should be negotiating instead of fighting. The present company would never accept it.
“General, you said yourself that you struggle to get spies into the rebels’ ranks. We can try again. Let her play the origin-searching sympathizer. Even if the rebels never fully trust her, we can get trickles of information. At worst, they’ll kill a soldier who’s already condemned.”
“If they don’t trust her, why would they give her information?” It was a woman colonel, almost as solidly thick as Taurvide. The one who wanted the thumbscrews before execution.
“What makes you think torturing the soldier will get you good information?” Luca cocked her head and gave a condescending shrug. The colonel shrank back. “She’ll earn their trust by feeding them fabricated leads. If they think we’re willing to make concessions, they’ll warm like wax. If they feed us false information, we can cross-reference it with other intelligence you gather. We’ll learn just as much by what they tell us as by what they don’t tell us.”
Most importantly, the soldier would be in a position to ask questions. The rebels wouldn’t tell her about the magic outright, not at first, but the soldier could observe. With time, maybe the answers would slip out naturally, or they could make an alliance, trading the magic… So many possibilities.
“And if she runs off to play rebel with the lot of them?” Taurvide asked. He still sat with his arms folded, fingers now tapping on biceps that strained against his coat.
Here, Luca had no other response. The woman’s life was already forfeit. It couldn’t be more forfeit. It was as risky as hiring a mercenary. But everyone was a mercenary, according to The Rule of Rule; it was only a matter of finding their price. Sometimes that price was money, but it wasn’t the only—or even the most—effective payment. As Gil had said, never overlook a good weapon. It would be silly to throw out a sword because it needed sharpening.