“It certainly could have,” Cyrus said. He coughed, trying to work up the nerve to say something both emotional and embarrassing. “Thank you, all of you. For helping me. For getting me this far. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Damn right,” Stasia said. Her smile lit up the wagon. “As much as I’d hate to admit it, you did pretty good yourself. I daresay we might be able to pull this off.”

Cyrus laughed.

“We just might,” he said as the wagon rolled on, and alarm bells rang throughout Vallessau the news of the magistrate’s death.

CHAPTER 18

SINSHEI

Sinshei vin Lucavi took her seat at the council table deep in the heart of the Vallessau castle. Like most of Thanet’s architecture, it was of finely carved pine, the trees far easier to obtain than the limestone that made up most of the castle keep’s base. Little swirls and grooves were faintly chiseled along the surface of the table so that additional varnish gathered within them during its final layer of application. This caused the markings to be various darker shades depending on the depth, resulting in a shockingly detailed map of Thanet in the table’s center. Boats sailed across exaggerated waves in the surrounding Crystal Sea. Little serpent heads peered from below the surface. A masterpiece of craft and detail.

“About time you arrived,” Gordian Goldleaf said, his legs crossed and his boots resting atop the table’s surface.

“I had prayers I must attend,” Sinshei told the island’s regent. There were only three chairs, so her paragon bodyguard, Soma Ordiae, positioned himself beside the door. His arms crossed over his blue platemail, his spear rattling as he leaned against the wall to observe the meeting in silence. A picture of absolute boredom covered his fair-skinned, handsome face. He hated these meetings, a sentiment Sinshei equally shared.

“Perhaps we should have left you to your prayers,” Magus of Eldrid said, the occupant of the third seat. “God-Incarnate knows the faith of the populace is thimble deep.”

Sinshei glared at the Imperator. Any remarks about the island’s faithfulness were a direct critique of her as the Anointed One of Thanet. That he came armed and wore his golden platemail to a simple meeting irked her. Did he hope to intimidate her and Gordian? Her hands clenched into fists, holding back a spark of divine flame. Let him showcase his physical strength. She had the magic of her prayers. At least he wasn’t wearing his damn bull helmet, so she could read the reactions in his silver eyes.

“Their faith is thin because you hasten the process the Uplifted Church has perfected over centuries,” she said. “You never should have implemented the Joining Laws early.”