Greythorne (Bloodleaf 2)

I ask

ed, “I suppose you were quite disappointed to find out your previous efforts to dispatch him were thwarted?”

He regarded me with heavy-lidded eyes. “A little, yes. But I am ever an admirer of an indomitable spirit.”

“A strange sentiment coming from a man who has all but enslaved his own people.”

If I thought this would goad him, I was wrong. Castillion didn’t flinch at my criticism. Instead, he said, “I know that’s what it looks like, Your Highness. But you’ve mischaracterized my enterprise. I seek to bring Achleva—and eventually, all nations—to a place of equilibrium. Of balance. Is that not something you also desire?”

Rather than answer, I released his arm and gazed up at his flag. “Your family’s sigil is a spider?”

“It is not my family’s sigil,” he replied. “It’s the one I chose for myself.”

“A peculiar choice for someone who wants equilibrium.”

“Not at all,” he said. “What is a spider, if not the enforcer of equilibrium? Its entire life is about balance. About symmetry.”

“And yet yours is asymmetrical,” I pointed out. “Four legs on one side, three on the other.”

“We can aspire to perfection,” he said, “but we cannot achieve it without sacrifice.”

“What, exactly, have you sacrificed?” I said bitterly.

He lifted his eyes to mine. They were thoughtful beneath his dignified brow. “More than you know.”

“Should I feel sorry for you?” I asked.

“Please don’t,” he replied. “I prefer piety to pity.”

“Ah, yes. I noticed that you named all your ships after virtues.” I tapped the balustrade upon which I was leaning. “The Accountability, the Piety, the Humility.” I eyed his clothes. They were perfectly tailored to suit him: a velvet black suit coat embroidered with slate-colored thread, an overcoat of polished leather dyed the deep red-violet of mulberry wine, and a belt slung across his hips that had been embellished with pure gold. “That last one seems a little bit ill-fitting, don’t you think?”

“I do have things to work on,” he agreed. “It’s a process. I have four more ships in the process of being built: the Sobriety, the Acuity, the Veracity, and the Morality. My wish is that someday I deserve to be considered a scion of each trait.”

I snorted before I could help it. Then, to regain some of my dignity, I said, “Well, at the very least, thank you for taking care of my friend.”

“Balance,” he said. “You gave yourself up to me to help her. I will ensure that your sacrifice does not go unrewarded.” He gave me a grave stare. “Arceneaux will kill you, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “And if she gives you Valentin, you will kill him, too.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry for that.”

It felt like he was telling the truth.

“You don’t have to do it. You could make a bargain with him. A compromise. Just like he originally proposed!”

“There can be no bargain. Achleva must be freed from tyranny. It must be rid of its kings.” The white waves of his hair ruffled in the chill wind coming in from the door as the boat picked up speed. “And, as you just pointed out, Valentin was born to be king. That is his life’s one purpose. Would you deprive him of it?”

“Better to deprive him of his purpose than his life. And I assume you will take his place? Calling yourself something else, no doubt. What will it be? Steward? Emperor? Lord Regent?”

This provoked a response, if a minor one: he lifted his chin in defiance. “I believe I was meant to guide the nation into a new order, but no. I will not rule it. The people will govern themselves. There will be absolute peace.”

“How many people do you actually know?” I asked. “Because in my experience, most are not generally inclined toward peace.”

He smiled. “I suppose they can seem predisposed to fighting . . . especially when someone is going around telling them that they must.”

Si vivis, tu pugnas.

We walked to the outside deck. Mentally, I tried to reconcile the cold-blooded usurper who’d overtaken half of Achleva with this well-mannered man preaching peace and perfection. There was a confidence to Castillion’s refined manner that made it easy to mistake his rationalizations for reason. In that way, he might be even more dangerous than the Tribunal, who wore their brutality like a badge.