Learning that he had joined the movement years ago, that he had guessed that they would be open to doing the same simply by observing them in their daily discussions, both thrilled her and frightened her. Had they really been so obvious? Or was the high chancellor simply far more formidable than they had ever believed? In either case she could not help but wonder at her own carelessness.
Kayiv dropped himself into the chair by her hearth and Nitara sat on the bed, watching him. He had surprised her with his reluctance to join the movement, and even now, alone with her, he appeared uncertain, as if he feared they had made a terrible mistake.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice low. “What’s bothering you so?”
He gave a small shake of his head. “I honestly don’t know. I sense that Dusaan isn’t telling us everything. I suppose I’m still not convinced that he’s really with the conspiracy. What if he goes to the emperor? We’ve just committed treason against the empire, and though we’ve spoken of doing so for some time, I feel that we were coerced into pledging ourselves to the movement. It almost seemed that the high chancellor had a blade pointed at my heart.”
“Well, he did threaten us. But I don’t see that he had much choice. He confessed to being a traitor, too. He needed to be certain that we wouldn’t betray him to Harel.”
“No, he didn’t.” Kayiv stood, walking to the tapestry that hung on her wall and pushing it to the side so that he could gaze out the narrow window onto the palace courtyard. Cold air swirled through the room. “He said it himself. If we tried to betray him, he’d claim that it had been a deception, a test of our loyalty to the throne.”
“I’m not certain that would have saved him. A turn or two ago it might have, but with Lachmas’s death the emperor sees traitors everywhere. He might not have believed such a story, even hearing it from Dusaan. And I think the chancellor knew that as well.”
“Maybe,” he said, sounding unconvinced.
“It’s getting cold in here.”
Kayiv glanced at her, then let the tapestry fall over the window once more. He returned to his chair and sat again, rubbing his hands together, his jaw clenched.
“I sensed the same thing you did,” she told him. “He wasn’t telling us everything. But I don’t think he was lying to us about where his loyalties lie. He’s with the conspiracy. And now we are as well. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I thought it was.”
“What’s changed?”
“Nothing. Nothing will change. Maybe that’s what bothers me. I’m not certain that replacing the Eandi courts with Qirsi courts is going to do much good, especially if the Qirsi nobles all answer to this Weaver Dusaan mentioned. How long do you think the Eandi will tolerate that before they rebel?”
“We’ll control the armies by then. We’ll control them with our magic.”
“There aren’t enough of us, Nitara. Think about it for a moment. There are ten Eandi for every Qirsi in the Forelands. Unless the Weaver intends to execute ten of thousands of them and imprison the rest, there’s no way we can hold the realms once we have them.”
“Maybe they won’t rebel.”
He frowned. “You can’t really believe that’s a possibility.”
“Of course I can. They might resist at first. But what if Qirsi rule brings better times for the Eandi as well? Not for the nobles, mind you, but for the commoners. What if the Qirsi end the kind of foolishness we were discussing today-the dispute in Grensyn? Don’t you think that might win their loyalty?”
“I think you’re asking an awful lot of Eandi commoners. And I don’t think you truly understand how much our people are hated throughout the land.” Kayiv shook his head, a look of despair in his golden eyes. “Our power would be based on fear-fear of our magic, fear of the Weaver, fear created by more executions than I care to imagine. That’s really the only way it would work.”
“So then you admit that it could work.”
He stared at her, as if unable to believe what he had just heard her say. “Yes, but at what cost?”
Nitara felt her anger rising, and when next she spoke it was with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. “After the invasion failed, the Eandi killed all the Qirsi commanders, and all the Weavers as well! To this day, they’ve continued to kill every Weaver they could find! And you believe we should feel sorry for those who’ll have to die so that we can win our freedom?”
He actually looked afraid-afraid of her, she realized, a twisting pain in her chest. “It probably won’t come to that,” she went on a moment later, trying to sound more reasonable. “The high chancellor said there might be more Weavers than we thought. With a Weaver leading each realm, there’ll be little need for executions.”
She swung herself off the bed, stepping to his chair so that she could stand behind him and rub his shoulders. “Come now, love. We’ve spoken of this for too long for you to back away from it now. Besides, we’ve given Dusaan our word, and I certainly didn’t sense any deception in his voice when he spoke of killing us if we defied him.” She bent over and kissed the side of his neck. “We’re led by a Weaver,” she whispered in his ear. “We’re going to win this war. We can be nobles, rich, powerful. We can rule together. Surely you want that.”
He took hold of her hands, drawing one to his lips and then the other. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I do want that.”
She circled the chair, stopping in front of him. “Then quit your brooding,” she said, removing her ministerial robe and unbuttoning the dress she wore beneath it “We’re going to change the world together. We should be celebrating.”
She let the dress fall to the floor and, stepping out of it, took Kayiv’s hand and led him to her bed.
“It feels strange to celebrate a war,” he said.
Nitara smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips, as she began to remove his clothes. “We’re not. We’re celebrating victory.”
Chapter Seven
City of Kings, Eibithar
It was several days before Cresenne felt well enough to undertake any sort of journey, and several more before she admitted as much to Grinsa and the herbmaster. Grinsa came to see her and Bryntelle each day, and, after two more unsuccessful attempts to hold their baby, actually managed to have her fall asleep in his arms. The look of joy on his face as he carefully returned his daughter to Cresenne’s arms left no doubt in her mind that his love for the child was quickly becoming the most important consideration in his life.
Just as it was in hers.
She hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time since Bryntelle’s birth. The baby still was hungry almost all the time, her swaddling wet or soiled nearly as often. Never in her life had Cresenne worked so hard and had so little to show for the effort. Yet it was all she could do to remember to eat her own meals during the course of a day, so enamored was she of the girl, so willing, even eager, to pass her hours just staring at Bryntelle’s face and hands. She should have been thinking of ways to use Grinsa’s love of the girl to her advantage, but instead she was consumed with fear at the thought that he might do the same to her.
If you don’t do as I ask, I’ll have Bryntelle taken from you. He had threatened to have her placed in Glyndwr’s dungeon as well, but he needn’t have bothered. Cresenne’s fear of losing her daughter overmastered all other concerns. And she sensed that Grinsa knew this.