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  “Good.” He turned his face to her. “Thank you. I command as much credibility as a talking goat among the other officers. They sense something is wrong with me, but they don’t know. Not for certain.” Again, they both knew why. In spite of all of the hints at great power—his ability to withstand command magic, to shield his thoughts, and to scry—Nels never had developed proper magi­cal powers. He looked miserable. “No one listens to me but you.”

  “Wanted to help,” she said. “Need anything else? Horses?”

  “Do I need anything else.” He paused again. “I don’t wish to be ungrateful, but why are you taking this risk?”

  There it was. The question she had been dreading. She stuffed an orange slice in her mouth to buy time, but in a nervous reflex, she bit down. Her mouth filled with juice. It slid down her throat before she was ready. Her eyes watered and her throat burned while she tried not to cough. She swallowed tangy juice and cleared her throat while she struggled to think of something to say. He sat up. The boat tilted, and the orange peel fell from his hair. In the moonlight, his eyes blazed a serious pale gray. She could feel her face warm in the intensity of his stare.

  He never could restrain the color of his eyes. And she couldn’t protect her own thoughts. Aren’t we a pair?

  “You want control of the army,” he said in a flat tone. “And you think you can do it through me.”

  “Oh, Nels.” She choked the words past the lump in her throat.

  He held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I know my place.”

  “Don’t.”

  He turned his back on her, and gripped the dagger board. She set the remainder of her orange on the bench and dipped her hands in the water, taking care to not jostle the boat. She stared at his back and tried to think of something to say that would salve the sting. After a time, she heard him sigh.

  “I’m … glad,” he said at last.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, slipping into Eledorean.

  “Someone must stand against Uncle Sakari. It can’t be me. I’m not—” He paused, and the tension in his hands vanished. “I’m pleased it will be you. What’s your plan?”

  “I don’t have one,” she said in Eledorean.

  “Don’t lie.” He turned. “You know better than to make a move without something in mind. And giving me muskets was no small thing. You know you have my absolute loyalty—”

  “Never a doubt,” she said in Acrasian.

  He shifted closer and tugged up his sleeves. “You can’t wait for Father to die before doing something about Uncle. By then, it’ll be too late. Uncle has but one head. We have two. Tell me.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  He looked down at his hands resting on the dagger board, and she noticed the unfamiliar network of tiny scars vanishing up her twin’s sleeves. There were a couple of bigger scars, tracing long, exact lines across the top of his left forearm. Now that she’d been paying attention, she’d noticed similar marks on other soldiers, and she began to wonder what it meant. As close as they’d been while growing up, it was odd to see anything in Nels that she didn’t know intimately. She hadn’t lied to him. He was the only one in her life whom she dared to trust completely. The old fear of abandonment twitched into a cold knot around her heart. What else don’t I know about him?

  His hair slid over his shoulders as he turned to face her. “I’m not angry. Not really. What choice do you have? To do otherwise would be foolish, and you are not foolish. Not like me.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  He looked into her face. “I’m not the best choice. You should start forming an alliance with one of the generals Uncle doesn’t control. Sadly, there are only two worth contacting. That would be Field Marshal Kauranen or Brigadier General Bohinen. Colonel Laine would make a good candidate too. Each has taken a stand against Uncle at the councils and managed to keep their seats. None would hesitate to accept backing. Of the three, I’d choose Laine even though you’ll have to get him promoted. He’s smart. He’s come out on top of more than one confrontation with Uncle. Laine is in a good position. The troops love him. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s more trustworthy than Bohinen. Bohinen is older than the others, and he drinks too much. It’d be too easy to slip him poison and blame age. Kauranen is a good risk too, but she’d be my second choice. I’d recruit her after Laine. The two would make a good team. She didn’t buy her shoulder braids like the others. She worked her way through the ranks. That requires courage, intelligence, political shrewdness, and iron will, but she isn’t well liked among the troops. She’s too new.”

  “Why not you?”

  “You know why. I can’t hide my defect forever. That’s obvious. And the army will not follow me once it’s known that I’m—I can’t …” He let his voice trail off and shrugged.

  Magic; he needs command magic, she thought. “You can’t be influenced or forced with magical power. Your thoughts can’t be sensed, either. I need those things from a leader far more than anything else.” Still, she’d given the matter long thought. She’d already made a certain decision, but she needed him as an ally. Thus, she needed him to come to the same conclusions she had on his own. You’re manipulating him.

  Is it manipulation or leadership?

  Is there a difference? She wanted to believe there was.

  “Listen to me. I can’t lead the army. You know I can’t. Place me in a position of power and my secret will come out at once. If that happens, I’ll be useless to you.”

  He’d be worse than useless. He’d be tortured to death, she thought. An image of her uncle’s automatons made her shudder.

  “You’re my sister. One day you’ll be queen. I’ll do what I must to protect you. And part of that is knowing I can’t be the one to be Grand Marshal for your army.”

  Feeling a twinge of guilt, she trapped him in a fierce hug, and the boat rocked as the tears she had wanted to cry for months poured out onto the front of his uniform shirt. He was warm and smelled of leather, wool, and soap. She sniffed. “I love you.” She honestly meant it.

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  She sat down again. “All right. I’ll tell you.”

  He resumed his reclined position, steadying himself with a hand to the boat’s side. He threw the orange peel at her. “In Acrasian.”

  She groaned.

  “You need the practice.”

  “Visit more often, then,” she said in stubborn Eledorean.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean it. Promise me you won’t wait so long next time.”

  He smiled and his irises changed from light gray to something much darker. “You missed me?”

  “Of course I did, you addle-pate. Seven months is too long.” She threw the orange peel back. “I began to think you’d run off with a woman and left me alone with Uncle Sakari.”

  “Small chance of that.” The look on his face said he wished other­wise.

  “Oh, there is someone, then? Who? What’s she like? I want to meet her.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and whispered to the sky in Acrasian. “Tell me your plans first and then I may consider it.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  “I saw that.”

  “Planning on doing something about it?” She positioned herself for arm wrestling and braced her elbow on the dagger board. “Or are you too rabbit?” she asked in Acrasian and wiggled her ­fingers.

  “Rabbit? Oh. Chicken.” He sat up and smiled. “You can’t possibly win.”

  “Try me and see.”

  He slipped off his uniform coat and rolled up a white sleeve. While he wasn’t looking, she smashed a slice of blood orange in her palm.

  “You’re certain about this?” he asked.

  “You talk much.” She laughed. “You talk all your enemies to sleep?”

  He grasped her hand and then jerked back with a look of disgust. “You brat!”

  “Shhhh!” She leaned back with her clean hand over her mouth to st
ifle the giggles. Then she rinsed her hand in the water a second time. “I win!”

  “You cheated!”

  “And who taught me how?” She lapsed back into Eledorean.

  “I did not!”

  “Oh, then that was someone else who dipped his hand in the chamber pot?” It was her turn to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “That was awful.”

  “I didn’t think you’d ever speak to me again after that,” he said with a sheepish smile.

  “It ruined my favorite dress.”

  “You had others.”

  “Hells, I did,” she said in Acrasian.

  His mouth dropped open. “Where did you learn that word?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “I should get back.”

  “What about my plans?”

  “You aren’t going to tell me what they are.”

  “I am. Now.” She paused and switched to Acrasian. “You say start with Laine?”

  “I would. But they each have their strengths. Kauranen is the best tactician. She’s intelligent enough to know when tradition is an advantage and when it isn’t. Laine is popular. It’d be easier to get control through him once he’s been promoted. However, Laine isn’t as experienced as Kauranen. It depends upon what you need first. Strategy or control? Eventually, you’ll need Bohinen and Näränen, too. If this is to work. But Näränen will be tougher. He’s seen Uncle Sakari’s bad side. Intimately.”

  She could see that Nels admired Kauranen. She took a deep breath and gave up on Acrasian. “Make a list.”

  “Have you decided how you’ll get rid of Brigadier General Moilanen?”

  Pausing, she considered how much she should tell Nels. Employing a korva to assassinate rivals wasn’t unusual at court. It was only that doing so was morally ambiguous, and she didn’t know what Nels would think. “Well …”

  “I’d be very careful. A korva would be best.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she saw his face color.

  He looked away. “Dealing in blood is what I do.”

  “I’ve already hired a korva.” In her shock, she switched back to Eledorean. “Six months ago.”

  A pleased expression tugged at his lips. “Smart.”

  “I am plotting to pull the kingdom from Uncle’s grasp. He won’t give up Eledore easily. And at the very least, not employing a korva to spy on him would be suicide.”

  “I trust you know what you’re doing,” he said, putting his hands up in the air.

  “Speaking of,” she said. “I’d feel better if you employed one, too.”

  He paused. “Why?”

  Korvas wielded a great deal of magical talent—primarily in listen­ing and being fast, silent, and generally unobtrusive to the point of invisibility. They were employed as spies, assassins, and thieves—all occupations that publicly carried heavy punishments, that is, if the korva in question was caught. As a result, korvas outside of the military were expensive and difficult to find, while those serving in the Royal Army were serving out punishment.

  Some liked to brag that the Kingdom of Eledore didn’t have much of a prison population. That would be because all able-­bodied criminals were sentenced to serve in the Royal Army.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll pay for your korva. I’ll even send you some recommendations,” she said. “Have your choice transferred under your command. The other officers won’t think twice. Whatever you are now, you’re still a royal. Having a korva in service will have the added benefit of garnering a certain level of respect through fear.”

  “All right,” he said, and then seemed to consider his next words. “I should transfer to an active unit. One of Kauranen’s, if you’re planning on using her. She’s been ordered to the front. Her brigade leaves next month. That doesn’t give us much time.”

  Suvi nodded. “I know.” She hated to think that her plans would put her brother in danger, but there wasn’t anything else for it.

  “Mother won’t like it,” he said.

  “Leave Mother to me.”

  “Once you have the army under your influence, what have you planned next?”

  She switched back to Acrasian. “Large grant to the Commons Church for plague hospital.”

  “You would openly defy Father?”

  Suvi shook her head. “Secret donation. The Commons Church is beneath Uncle’s notice.”

  “Where will you find enough healers? Most won’t risk themselves. The poor don’t pay.”

  Giving up on Acrasian, she kept her voice low. “Saara will convince them to volunteer.” Saara was a devout member of the Commons Church. The Silmaillia’s lowly ancestry had been quite a shock to the court when she’d been first named all those years ago. However, the Silmaillia wasn’t a hereditary title. It was earned via magical talent, and no one had been able to deny that talent. Still, the court hadn’t accepted Saara. So, the king had given her an estate far from court on the slopes of Angel’s Thumb. “I’ve spoken with her granddaughter, Ilta, too.” At the mention of Ilta’s name, Nels looked away, but not before Suvi saw his eyes change. Ah, so that’s the one.

  “Why bother?” he asked.

  “No commoners. No crops. No crops. No kingdom.”

  “Father may not notice a few falcons gone missing here and there, but enough for a hospital?”

  “I’ll redirect some of Uncle Sakari’s financial assets to the hospital,” she said. “Start with the money. Always start with the money.”

  They both said it together. “Mother would.”

  Suvi paused. The next part would be hardest because it was the most personal. “Another thing … the unit in which you choose to serve won’t matter. You will be going to the front. Soon. Uncle Sakari is going to have Father commit the entire Royal Army to the war.”

  “Why? No one but me thinks Acrasia is a threat,” Nels said with a frown.

  “Cousin Edvard does,” Suvi said. “It’s why he’s distancing Ytlain from Eledore. Uncle thinks Acrasia will be easier to conquer and control than Ytlain. So, he’ll commit the army to the war. Plus, there’s another reason.”

  “What other reason?”

  Suvi stared at her knees. The moonlight painted the fabric of her pale green dress a muddy gray. She made another attempt at Acrasian, hoping it wouldn’t sound as real. “The King’s Army are … is big. Too difficult to control. War will make army smaller. Remove unwanted … persons.” She glanced up, hoping he caught the implied warning.

  Nels swallowed and then gave out a low whistle. “You have been thinking about this a while.”

  “Of course.” She slapped him on the shoulder. “It important not only to protect kingdom, but to protect you, stupid donkey.”

  NELS

  ONE

  The river slapped a slow, steady beat against the rented narrowboat tied at the pier. The captain and first mate of the vessel had vanished below decks, taking refuge in the cabin. Thunder grumbled indifferent threats, and the scent of river mud battled the honeysuckles for dominance in the gloom. Moonlit willows, sycamores, and maples squatted on either side of the crude dock, providing excellent cover against the broken hillside. Mr. Almari, the ­smuggler, wouldn’t be home. According to Nels’s new korva, Almari had traveled south to Herraskariano and would be gone for a month. Still, Nels couldn’t shake a hunch that something wasn’t right. He should’ve sent Lieutenant Reini alone, but he had two reasons for not doing so. The first was that Nels was reluctant to involve others in his plan. Unfortunately, he couldn’t handle twenty-five gun crates alone. The second reason was that Reini had come from General Moilanen’s brigade, and Moilanen was Uncle Sakari’s. Nonetheless, Suvi had recommended Reini, and Nels trusted Suvi’s judgment. For the most part. So, there Nels was, skulking in shadows—an activity for which he was most certainly not suited.

  It would’ve been better to commit. Take the chance. Give Reini the benefit of a doubt, Nels thought. This is no way to begin. It was exactly the sort of error Colonel Pesola
would make. It’s too late now.

  Ahead, a disgusted sigh floated backward on stale night air. “There’s a pile of leaves over here you could wade through,” Lieutenant Reini whispered. “That might make slightly less noise, Your Grace.” He had voiced a strong objection to being accompanied and was obviously still angry about being overruled.

  “Get on with it, Lieutenant,” Nels said. No wonder Major Lahtela had looked like a cat who’d swallowed a fat mouse when he’d agreed to Reini’s transfer. By reputation, Lieutenant Viktor Reini was one of the best korvas in the entire Royal Eledorean army, if not the best. In exchange, Lahtela had demanded an amount that had cost Nels not only the advance Suvi had given him but what amounted to half of his monthly stipend. It still hadn’t been enough, and he’d included the promise of a letter of introduction to the newly promoted Field Marshal Laine from Suvi. At the time, Nels thought he would’ve paid twice that amount to obtain Reini’s transfer.

  Nels was starting to lose confidence in his investment.

  Of course, he knew all along there would be a catch. Soldiers with marketable powers didn’t join the Royal Army. They sold themselves as mercenaries to the gentry. Mercenary pay was better, and quality weapons and provisions improved one’s chances of survival, but the competition for such posts was intense, and for that reason, Nels had held out hope that he’d been lucky.

  Entering the cave, Nels paused until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Water dripped somewhere ahead, echoing off the smooth, rippled walls. He’d edged a hundred feet down the tunnel before the moonlight gave out and he was forced to feel his way along the wall. He had ordered Reini to wait with the lantern a discreet distance from the entrance. Judging by the absence of light, it was clear they had differing opinions on what that meant.

  “You’re doing better, even if you do breathe louder than a stampeding herd of elk,” Lieutenant Reini whispered. He was close enough that Nels could feel Reini’s breath on his ear.

  Damn it. This isn’t going to work out, is it? Nels thought, and then reconsidered his frustration. As if you can get through a day without arguing with Major Lindström, you hypocrite. It was a sign of Reini’s great magical talent that Nels hadn’t even sensed the use of magic. “Just open the damn lantern before I kill myself.”