The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

“What’s the escape carriage?” Amarinda asked.

“It’s designed to look like a church wagon bringing charity for the sick and poor,” Tobias said. “It will appear to be carrying only food and supplies, but there’s a hidden compartment below it where we can hide, if necessary.”

I shook my head. “It was a joke, not an actual plan for escape. It’s not safe enough.”

“There are higher priorities than safety,” Amarinda said.

“Not for you,” I said sternly.

“When has your safety ever been a priority in protecting Carthya?” she countered. “Am I fit for nothing but decoration on your arm? We must get word to Bymar, and I am the best one to deliver it.”

“You and Tobias? Alone in Avenia?” That was absurd.

“The carriage isn’t a joke,” Tobias said. “I designed it, and I built it.”

I turned to him. “When?”

“While your leg recovered. I wanted to prove it was possible.” Tobias leaned forward. “Nobody could look at it from the outside and know it has a false floor. It will protect her. I will protect her.”

Everything in me fought against their suggestion. But in the end, I knew that our options were narrowing, and none of them were particularly good. If Avenia could get at Imogen, who was supposed to be unconnected to me now, then I didn’t dare think of the lengths they’d go to for our future queen. If she could get home to Bymar, she would be safe there, no matter what the outcome of this war.

Reluctantly, I gave my permission and said, “Get it ready for the morning. I want you to bring Fink.” Fink was an Avenian boy who returned with me from the pirates. He asked too many questions, paid attention to nothing for more than a few minutes, and seemed intent on crowding multiple sentences into each breath he took. But as far as I was concerned, he was family now, and I had to be sure he was safe as well.

With some apparent reluctance, Tobias agreed, and then I retreated to my seat to address the entire group. “Everything must be done with the greatest of speed. Our armies are strong, but so are theirs. Every day this war goes on, the enemy digs deeper into our lands and terrorizes more of our people. With three countries against us, we cannot outlast them. I want a war measured in weeks, not months.”

Heads nodded back at me, though none of them had any more of an idea than I did for how we might accomplish that. I only knew that we had to find a way.

“Is there nothing you want from me?” Harlowe asked. It was the first time he’d spoken in this meeting.

I turned to him, but drew in a slow breath before speaking. “Your assignment may be the most difficult of all. Word must be sent throughout the kingdom, especially to the homes outside the cities. Invite anyone who wishes to come to Drylliad. Here we will offer them sanctuary within the safety of our walls. In exchange, all able-bodied men must prepare to fight in defense of the capital. Those who cannot fight shall help in any other way you ask of them.”

Harlowe dipped his head at me, then said, “The regents suggested we offer release to any prisoner willing to fight for Carthya.”

“What about Conner?” Even if he were Carthya’s last hope, I wouldn’t dare put a knife in that man’s hand. Bevin Conner would likely protest to his dying day that he was still a patriot, but I’d never be convinced he wouldn’t use that knife against our own men, and find a way to justify it in the name of patriotism.

“We wouldn’t release him, of course. Especially not now.” Harlowe cleared his throat, as if the words about to pass his lips made him uncomfortable. “We just learned he’s been sending information beyond our borders, to someone unknown.”

My eyes narrowed. “What information?”

“The message we intercepted describes the details of your fight with Captain Roden. There were likely others before it.”

“Let it be sent,” I said. “And follow it. I want to know who Conner is talking to.”

“As you command,” Harlowe said. “My king, Drylliad will stand until your safe return.”

To which I only lowered my eyes. When I raised them again, Amarinda was staring at me with her brows pressed together in concern. She opened her mouth to say something, but Kerwyn spoke first.

“Your Majesty, I won’t bother with protesting about the risks you’re taking,” he said tiredly. “I know it never does any good. But if you intend to do this, then there is something we must discuss. We’ll do everything we can to protect you, but —”

“It’s a trap for me, I know.”

Kerwyn leaned forward. “After your family’s deaths, Carthya nearly fell into civil war. You cannot leave without naming an heir.”

Nodding at the princess, I said, “It should be Amarinda, naturally.”

But she shook her head. “A Carthyan must be named as successor. Not me.”

“That’s ridiculous. You might not have been born here, but you’re as Carthyan as I am.”