Here’s the thing—I didn’t want any more blood on my hands. It seemed paradoxical, after my chat with the Reverend had affirmed my resolve, but how far could it go? How many sacrifices were needed?

She didn’t need to know that.

With a stony glare, I said, “Oh? As the wife of my enemy, how do I know you’re not lying? That you won’t backstab me the first chance you get?” Of course, she would act for her own benefit, and she’d just told me what that was, but perception didn’t always match reality.

If she thought it necessary, this woman would cut my throat before I could blink.

“Tell me,” I continued, “why I shouldn’t just kill you now?”

Hana gaped, and Cannara scrutinised me briefly, while Duke Kalvin gave a solemn nod.

“Ol—sire,” said Shia, furrowing her brow. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

I clamped my mouth shut, frowning. Damn it, Shia. Couldn’t they tell what I was going for?

“Shia,” said Duke Kalvin, “shut up.”

Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me, don’t believe that simply because I—”

“Shut up,” hissed Cannara. Shia squealed, suddenly gaining an unusual interest in her feet.

Cocking her head, the Duchess smirked. “My, can’t you keep a better grip on your servants?”

I bristled. The very implication grated on me like steel wool. “They’re not just servants; they’re my friends.”

“I see,” said Scarlet, wrinkling her nose. Like husband, like wife, I supposed. “In that case, would you consider allowing me to become one of those ‘friends’?”

Cannara snorted, and Duke Kalvin scoffed. Personally, I opted for the kind of facial expression that comes instinctually whenever a person steps in dog shit.

“Dream on,” I said. “Now stop dodging the question—what’s this deal of yours?”

She cleared her throat, meeting my gaze. Her eyes were soft on the surface, but held a hard glint of something forged in fires beyond my imagination. She said, “Simply put, I will lead you to my husband.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what do you want in return?”

“Give me Ribera.”

I laughed.

Cannara prepared her daggers, and Shia cast me an inquisitive glance. Hana kept looking between me and the Duchess, as though she was trying—probably unsuccessfully—to read between the lines.

“With all due respect, my Lady,” said Duke Kalvin, his tone severe, “in what world do you expect to be trusted with a duchy? You, who married for power, and is now in the process of selling her husband for that same power?”

With an ironic smile, she replied, “I’m not asking for trust, Relas; just the position. I seek my own best interests, and in this moment, that is with the current King.”

“And in a different moment?” asked Hana, her muscles tensing.

“Perhaps it will change,” she admitted. “But you have my word that you shall know if it does.”

Yeah, no shit. It’s pretty hard to miss a knife sticking out my back, isn’t it?

“What is that word worth,” said Duke Kalvin, “when you’re about to break the promise you gave in front of the Pillars, entrusting your future to your husband?”

She shrugged. “Can a woman not be forgiven the foolishness of youth?”

I sighed. There it was—the crux of the matter. Even if I didn’t trust her any further than I could throw her, everyone deserved a chance.

I’d gotten one, so why shouldn’t she?

“Oliver,” said Cannara, “I can kill her if you want.”

Duchess Ribera grimaced. “Is it really necessary for your… friends to be involved in this discussion? I’d have thought I was speaking with the King of a nation.”

“My Council have given me good advice so far,” I said, sucking my teeth. “I don’t see a problem letting them have their say.”

Frowning, she glanced warily at Cannara, then said, “Very well. So… will you kill me, or take the offer?”

I fingered my chin. Killing her was out of the question, both from a moral standpoint and a practical one. She had information I needed, and had basically offered herself in surrender, though not without a caveat—I’d expect nothing less.

In the end, if I needed to kill her—and I fucking hoped I didn’t—I could deal with it when the time came. Until then, she was useful.

“I’m not like the last King,” I said. “You won’t have the same autonomy you’ve enjoyed, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you syphon off our goods to other countries like Aleister’s been doing.”

“Of course!” she said, holding her arms wide. “The Kingdom will have first refusal on everything the duchy produces, and I shall bend myself to your will.” Standing, she curtsied, exaggerating to the point she almost sat on the floor.

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I suppressed a growl. Her particular brand of falseness told me exactly what I should expect. At the first opportunity, I should probably replace her, but how to do that?

I’d worry about it later.

“Lead the way.”

***

We all strode behind Scarlet, keeping our eyes glued to her as she led us through the upper hallways. It took us to the back of the house, and a door nowhere near any of the others—this was panelled oak, glossed to a shine, and I could feel the tension seeping through it.

“In here,” said Scarlet, backing away. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather not enter with you, since—”

“You’re going first,” I said, gently shoving her forward.

I looked around at my Council, and they all nodded in return.

“Cannara,” I said, “Duke Kalvin. Watch the door.”

“Yes, sire.” Duke Kalvin stood at attention with his back to us, rubbernecking. Cannara clicked her tongue, but fell into the same position.

I wanted to make sure we weren’t disturbed, but there was more to it.

Cannara had a score to settle with Aleister. She usually had good control, but had lost herself at the slightest insult from Hana, and held a lot of resentment. Having held it myself, I knew what that looked like.

Though she deserved absolution, I couldn’t have her losing her shit here.

Duke Kalvin could keep an eye on her, as well as being gruff and intimidating and all those other useful things, even if Hana was probably stronger.

I motioned for Scarlet to open the door. She did so, creeping inside and huffing. We followed her, Hana and Shia spreading out in front of me as we stepped in.

The room was big, but not as much as I’d expected. It was, however, powerfully ostentatious. Paintings adorned the walls, showing fantastic vistas painted in broad strokes, vivid colours popping out of the canvas.

It smelled of leather and polish, with a large mahogany desk along the back wall, in front of a bay window with panelled glass. Behind the desk sat Aleister, his fingers steepled, a crystal tumbler before him holding amber liquid.

Another man—this one wearing robes, tall and lanky with long, stringy black hair and a hooked nose—sat in the corner behind him, his face buried in his knees. Who the hell was that?

As I regarded Aleister, he sneered.

“Surprised you’re still here,” I said, my hands behind my back. “Why not run away like the coward you are?”

He scoffed. “A coward? That’s rich, coming from a man who refuses to engage my soldiers properly in battle. Asha, Larm, and now you come here? You will not touch me; you have your servants, but mine are superior.”

Shia stomped her foot and opened her mouth, but I waved her down. “Like Roxina?” I said. “Hate to break it to you, but we already beat her. All that’s left is you.”

Bursting into laughter, he pounded the desk. “Oh, you think I’d be here, alone, without anything in the way of protection? That’s rich.” He turned his gaze to Scarlet, who shrunk beneath it. “And after all I have done for you, my love, you choose to betray me?

“You will die with the King and his dogs, then.”

“No one’s gonna die,” I said. “At least not anyone I call a friend.”

Squinting, Aleister began trembling, clenching his jaw. “Friend? That you could call anyone… This is why you aren’t worthy! A King is a divine existence, bestowed by the Pillars themselves with the right to rule; he does not have friends!”

“You’re wrong,” I replied, putting a hand on each of Hana and Shia’s shoulders. “The title of King is meaningless.” Jaws dropped, and everyone turned to me, aghast, but I paid them no mind. “It’s just something people came up with so they could play at being powerful.

“You think authority comes naturally? Whether it’s fear, trust, or respect, every ruler in my history, and I’m betting yours, had a way of keeping people’s loyalty. But why keep that authority for yourself? If you let people govern themselves, learn and evolve and make their own decisions?

“There’ll be a lot of fighting, but is that any different to what’s happening now? Hell, I’d much rather people argue about politics, rather than sending men to pointless deaths over some worthless crown.”

Aleister’s face went red. “Worthless? You… How dare you! Their deaths are their greatest moments; it’s their lives that are pointless! To be able to sacrifice for the ascension of—”

“Shut the fuck up.” I clenched my fist, my shoulders bunching. Pointless. That had been an accurate description of my existence, once upon a time.

Or had it been?

When I looked at my new friends, I still couldn’t bring myself to trust them completely. They’d do as they were told, but if I opened up to them, what then? I’d thrown idealism at very real problems and been rebuffed by the sheer weight of my position.

Even still, I was making progress. Things were slowly getting better. If I’d tried this hard in my old life, would things have gotten better then?

“Aleister,” I said, my voice low, “there is no divine right.” The System didn’t count—as far as I knew, it could have been built by some immortal cultivator. “No Pillars sending gifts to their chosen and smiting their detractors. No physical or mental difference that tells us nobles are inherently better.

“There’s just people. And every single one of them deserves the chance to learn, to improve their lives, and eventually govern themselves. You see, once people have the same base level of education, and decent living standards, there’s no need for us.

“Everyone can become their own King.”

Chuckling, Aleister shook his head. “Pathetic. Naive. Childish and unrealistic! You would wish to give power to these idiot masses?” He gestured to the man in the corner. “To snivelling morons like this, who can do nothing but sniff their own failure?”

“They’re like that because you made them,” I said. “What’s the literacy rate in this country?”

“Nobles and merchants are expected to be able to read,” said Hana. “Other than them, I doubt many would have the resources to learn.”

“I—it’s probably within the region of ten to fifteen percent,” said Shia, stiff and tense.

“Then is it any wonder?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t just hoard wealth for yourself; you hoard knowledge, and any other form of power. Let me guess, learning magic is also nearly impossible for an ordinary person?”

“Correct,” said Hana.

“So what?!” roared Aleister. “Why should the masses have access to what is our right by birth? I’ve had enough of this; Harlan!”

“Who gives you that right?” I said softly, watching the man in the corner draw to Aleister’s side. “No education. No social mobility. The people on the bottom just have to look up at the people on top and think ‘if only I’d been born better’?

“Fuck that. That’s rot in the core of this country, and I’m gonna rip it out.”

“So you think.” Aleister curled his lip, nodding at the gaunt servant behind him. “It disgusts me to ever be in the same room as one of them, if truth be told, but such things can be a necessity. Destroy them.”

Dark eyes bore into me as the servant—Harlan—raised his arms, his fingertips crackling with raw, palpable magic. My hair stood on end. Hana took a defensive stance, and Shia drew in energy herself. Scarlet shrank against a wall.

“Do be sure to leave my wife alive,” said Duke Ribera, his tone low and cold. “I should have occasion to punish her—”

He flew into the wall.