“An unfortunate predicament,” August conceded with a nod. “Made worse by the threat of the Kirythean Empire at our doorstep. There are shortages all over the kingdom.”
It seemed no shortages of any kind were felt within the Citadel walls. Lore bit her tongue against that particular observation. She was a commodity that couldn’t be replaced, as far as she was aware, but she knew better than to press her luck.
“Since Anton has given you the broader picture of what we need from you,” August said, “I will give you the specifics.” He turned back to his throne and sat more gracefully than the iron spikes around it should allow. “We believe that Kirythea is attacking villages along our border, using some kind of lesser magic to kill our citizens in the night. Something left over from one of the minor gods.”
Her brow furrowed. “There’s still lesser magic to go around?” When the minor elemental gods died, Their bodies had leaked power, just like Nyxara’s still leaked Mortem. But all that power had dissipated long ago. At least, that’s what everyone assumed.
August’s lips flattened. “Jax is canny.”
Which wasn’t really an answer.
“Currently, it’s only been two small villages, and the timing is random—the second was eliminated two nights ago.” August crossed one leg over the other, nonchalant as he spoke of so much death. A chalice balanced on the arm of his throne; he took a long sip. “We need to neutralize the threat before Kirythea moves on to more profitable targets.”
More profitable targets. As though the lives lost in the outer villages were worth less than cattle. Lore’s eyes narrowed. “So you want to find out what’s happening before it kills someone that matters.”
The poison in her voice was apparently lost on the King. “Precisely.”
Gabriel stood behind her, but close enough that she could see his face from the corner of her eye. He looked like he was fighting a frown, as if the comment angered him as much as it angered her. She wondered how much dissent the Presque Mort were allowed to voice. The Church and the Crown were two legs of one government, but from the little Lore knew of court politics, it seemed they didn’t always walk in the same direction.
“If Kirythea is responsible,” August continued, “we need to identify the threat immediately, and take appropriate action.”
That could only mean war. Lore sneaked a glance at the waiting Presque Mort. Gabriel’s eye narrowed; Malcolm’s mouth pressed into a tense line. But if Anton was disturbed by the implication that war loomed close, he didn’t show it, his scarred face serene.
The Sainted King clasped his hands, eyes flashing beneath his heavy crown. “You will stay in the Citadel,” he said to Lore. “And in addition to using your… skills… to assist us in finding out what is happening to the outer villages, you will be my eyes and ears.”
“I’ll watch your son, you mean.”
August grinned, giving his face a predatory cast, and took another long drink of whatever was in his cup. “It seems my brother did give you some relevant details. Yes, you will stay here with the express purpose of getting close to Bastian. We have reason to believe he might be informing Emperor Jax of our weaknesses, acting as a spy from the inside.”
“Why?” Lore crossed her arms, holding them like a shield. “Why would the heir to the crown want to turn his country over to the Kirythean Empire?”
“Because the crown sits heavy,” August said quietly. “And my son has never demonstrated himself to be strong enough for that weight.”
Anton’s hand spasmed around his pendant, but when Lore looked at him, his scarred face was still blank.
“While Bastian is our main concern,” August continued, “we also wish for you to insinuate yourself into the court. My courtiers will be eager to gossip about you, but also with you.”
“All of that sounds great, but how exactly am I supposed to enter the court without making everyone suspicious?” Lore gestured to her ill-fitting gown. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s extremely obvious that I’m not a noble.”
“On the contrary.” August’s grin widened. “We’ll tell them you’re the cousin of the Duke of Balgia.”
Behind her, Gabriel’s face went nearly white. Next to him, Anton sighed, as if he’d come to his least favorite part of a task.
“Balgia?” Lore’s brow arched. The tiny duchy to the southeast had fallen to the Kirythean Empire fourteen years ago, conquered by Jax while his father was still the Emperor.