Rhy opened his eyes.

“Bring me two of their magicians.”

* * *

He met them in the map room.

Rhy would have preferred the Rose Hall, with its vaulted stone ceilings, its dais, its throne. But the king and queen were laid out there, so this would have to do.

He stood in his father’s place behind the table, hands braced on the lip of the wood, and it must have been a trick of the senses, but Rhy thought he could feel the grooves where Maxim Maresh’s fingers had pressed into the table’s edge, the wood still lingering with warmth.

Lord Sol-in-Ar stood against the wall to his left, flanked on either side by a member of his retinue.

Isra and two members of the guard lined the wall to his right.

The Veskan magicians came, Otto and Rul, massive men led in by a pair of armored guards. On Rhy’s orders, their manacles had been removed. He wanted them to realize that they weren’t being punished for the actions of their crown.

Not yet.

In the tournament ring, Rul “the Wolf” had howled before every match.

Otto “the Bear” had beaten his chest.

Now, the two stood silent as pillars. He could tell by their faces that they knew of their rulers’ treason, of the queen’s murder, the king’s sacrifice.

“We are sorry for your loss,” said Rul.

“Are you?” asked Rhy, masking his sorrow with disdain.

While Kell had spent his childhood studying magic, Rhy had studied people, learned everything he could about his kingdom, from vestra and ostra down to commoner and criminal, and then he’d moved on to Faro and Vesk. And while he knew that a world couldn’t truly be learned from a book, it would have to be a start.

After all, knowledge was a kind of power, a breed of strength. And Veskans, he’d been taught, respected anger and joy, even envy, but not grief.

Rhy gestured at the map. “What do you see?”

“A city, sir,” answered Otto.

Rhy nodded at the line of figurines he’d placed at the mouth of Arnes. Small stone ships stained emerald green and flying grey banners. “And there?”

Rul frowned at the row. “A fleet?”

“A Veskan fleet,” clarified Rhy. “Before your prince and princess attacked my king and queen, they sent word to Vesk and summoned a fleet of ten warships.” He looked to Otto, who had stiffened at the news—not in guilt, he thought, but shock. “Has your kingdom grown so tired of our peace? Does it wish for war?”

“I … I am only a magician,” said Otto. “I do not know my queen’s heart.”

“But you know your empire. Are you not a part of it? What does your heart say?”

The Veskans, Rhy knew, were a proud and stubborn people, but they were not fools. They savored a good fight, but did not go looking for war.

“We do not—”

“Arnes may be the battlefield,” cut in Sol-in-Ar, “but if Vesk covets war, they will find it with Faro, too. Say the word, Your Majesty, and I will bring a hundred thousand soldiers to meet your own.”

Rul had gone red as embers, Otto white as chalk.

“We did not do this,” growled Rul.

“We knew nothing of this deceit,” added Otto tightly. “We do not want—”

“Want?” snarled Rhy. “What does want have to do with it? Do I want my people to suffer? Do I want to see my kingdom plunged into war? The masses pay for the choices of a few, and if your royals had come to you and asked for your aid, can you say you would not have given it?”

“But they did not,” said Otto coldly. “With respect, Your Majesty, a ruler does not follow her people, but a people must follow her rule. You are right, many pay for the choices of a few. But royals are the ones who choose, and we are the ones who pay for it.”

Rhy fought the urge to cringe in the face of the words. Fought the urge to look to Isra or Sol-in-Ar.

“But you ask my heart,” continued Otto, “and my heart has a family. My heart has a life and a home. My heart enjoys the fields of play, not war.”

Rhy swallowed and took up one of the ships.

“You will write two letters,” he said, weighing the marker in his palm. “One to the fleet, and one to the crown. You will tell them of the prince and princess’s cold-blooded treason. You will tell them that they can withdraw now and we will take the actions of two royals to be their own. They can withdraw, and spare their country a war. But if they advance even a measure toward this city, they do so knowing they face a king who is very much alive, and an empire allied against them. If they advance, they will have signed the deaths of thousands.”

His voice slipped lower as he spoke, the way his father’s always had, the words humming like fresh-drawn steel.

“Kings need not raise their voices to be heard.”

One of Maxim’s many lessons.

“And what about this shadow king?” asked Rul icily. “Shall we write of him as well?”

Rhy’s fingers tightened around the small stone ship. “My city’s weakness will become yours if those ships cross into London. My people will sleep, but yours will die. For their sakes, I suggest you be as persuasive as possible.” He set the marker back on the table. “Do you understand?” he said, the words more order than question.

Otto nodded. So did Rul.

As the doors closed behind them, the strength went out of Rhy’s shoulders. He slumped back against the map room wall.

“How was that?” he asked.