Schulze eyed Wesley with as much suspicion as anyone had done. He was used to it. He’d built a reputation making sure that was the first thing people did: worried about what he was capable of and whether or not they could trust him with their lives. Fenna Schulze couldn’t be blamed. Her entire career was built on the idea that Wesley and anyone like him was a danger to the realm.

She was the most prominent politician in a place where Wesley was one of the most prominent bad guys.

“My people are dying,” Schulze said. “And you want me to join with Crafters and crooks. Can you understand why that would not be my first decision?”

Wesley could. Just like he thought Schulze should understand that joining with the woman who wanted to tear down his empire was not his preferred course of action. Unfortunately, none of them had the luxury of options anymore.

War stole a lot from people, but more than anything it stole their choices and their freedom to dictate their own fate.

“You don’t need to be scared of us,” Tavia said. “Only of what could happen if we don’t learn to work together.”

Schulze looked close to laughing. “Ah yes,” she said. “Please, busker, tell me how the black magic you peddle to feed people’s addictions isn’t dangerous.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Saxony said.

“And you, Crafter.” Schulze turned to her with a disbelieving sigh. “When so many of your people willingly slaughter mine by Dante Ashwood’s side. Will you also preach about how trustworthy you are?”

This was not going well, but Wesley knew these were things that needed to be said if the air between them was ever going to be clear.

“Or you?” Schulze asked Karam. “Protector of the most dangerous man in Creije and fighter in the deadly underrealm rings. A killer for sport, aren’t you?”

Karam’s eyes did not flinch. “I am a descendant of the Rekhi d’Rihsni,” she said. “My family were warriors and protectors of justice.”

“They were protectors of magic,” Schulze said.

“Magic is what fuels this world,” Karam said. “You may hate dark magic, but light magic keeps your trains running and your waters clear and your amityguards armed to protect people.”

“It also helps keep your reelection campaign relevant,” Tavia said.

Schulze leaned back in her chair, so similarly to the way Tavia and Saxony were slouched that Wesley briefly remembered none of them were born politicians or underbosses with the weight of realms of their shoulders. They were all just people, trying to do what they thought was best. And maybe that was what Wesley needed to do in order to win Schulze’s trust: remind her of what was best for the realm.