Page 185 of Salt in the Seas
The fear that clawed up his throat made it difficult to answer. “No. But that’s why placing her on the throne is the best way to shift the power. She’s not a threat to the Recreants, so giving her power is the best move for them to start gaining their own.”
“And what about for her?” Aeliana asked, but he could see she knew the answer.
“She won’t last as queen,” he admitted. “Partly because I’ll see to it that she doesn’t. That’s the best thing for her health.” His conviction grew with his words even as his guilt flared. It went against everything he’d been raised to do as a throne warden.
“And what if you can’t save everyone you’ve set out to save?” Aeliana whispered.
He stilled as the memory of his deal with the sprites flashed through his mind, followed quickly by the visions from Lady Merinnia. “It may not look the way we expect, but I still think it’s possible. The future is never set in stone.”
She gave him an incredulous look, almost as if she could hear the words he left out. But his confidence rested in his willingness to paythe high cost demanded by the sprites. The cost Lady Merinnia seemed to confirm by pointing out his absence in those future visions.
The hope that had grown during their walk was immediately snuffed. He couldn’t dream about a future with Aeliana, not if he might not live to see it. The truth sobered him into being prepared for the night’s agenda.
“Go on,” he said, angling his head toward the palace. “Ask one to take you back to your rooms so I can leave.” His abrupt dismissal made her flinch. But in light of his recent thoughts, he didn’t rescind his words.
With a stiff nod, she turned back to the palace, and Gaeren rushed through the gardens, eager to get away from the reminders of what he could almost have.
When Gaeren finally found the tavern where Riveran had arranged a meeting, he questioned his sanity. There were only half a dozen tables, all filled with seedy-looking men either lost in their drinks or snarling at their companions, as if a brawl might break out at any moment.
Riveran waved him down from the darkest corner where he sat with two other men, hooded cloaks deliberately hiding their faces. Gaeren tightened his own cloak around his shoulders, ensuring the hood stayed in place as he approached the table.
“You didn’t mentionhewas your contact,” one of the men muttered.
“Would you have come if I did?” Riveran said the words to the stranger but smiled at Gaeren, slapping his back and practically pushing him down into the last empty chair.
“How’d you even recognize me?” Gaeren asked.
The other men snorted, and this time the second spoke up, his voice oddly familiar behind his growl. “Your cloak and boots are evidence of your wealth, and your signature swagger could be recognized a mile away.”
Gaeren frowned. He didn’t have a swagger. He took in the intricatestitching of his cloak and the fine leather of his boots, unable to argue the first point.
“I’ll pick up some ill-fitting clothing on my side of town for you,” Riveran said. “As long as you’re buying tonight’s drinks.” He waved over the barmaid, and the other two men chuckled.
Gaeren ignored their condescension and held out a hand. “I’m Gaeren Elanesse. And you are?”
The first man cocked his head, giving Gaeren a glimpse of green eyes and a heavy brown beard, but he ignored Gaeren’s hand. “It’s brave of you to come here and expect to leave.”
“Smits.” The second man drew the first’s name out in warning.
“If you kill me, I can’t help you,” Gaeren said, maintaining an easy smile even as his heart beat faster and he dropped his hand. Riveran had made it sound like these men had wanted the meeting. Had something gone wrong?
“What? Just because his oldest friend and an old man trusts him doesn’t mean I have to.” Smits snarled the words at his friend, but Gaeren flinched as he felt the barb.
“Riveran told me about a Smits,” Gaeren said. “Said he would be the hardest to convince, which makes me like you.”
The man chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re still an Elanesse, and that makes me dislike you.”
Gaeren raised an eyebrow. “I expected you to hate me. If you merely dislike me, we’ve already moved a step in the right direction.”
“What do you possibly have to gain from working with us?” Smits asked.
“Freedom.” Gaeren swept his hands out to encompass the whole room. Not that the men in this room were a good example of freedom. “You all feel enslaved by my family, but I have no more freedom than you.”
Smits scoffed, but the second man, who still hadn’t given his name, shifted uneasily.
“They forced me to bond at a young age,” Gaeren went on. “Something I now see as one step lower than slavery when it’s done without consent. Freeing both myself and my bondmate helped me understandthat.” He held up his palm, hoping the dim light would be enough to show off his ugly scar.
The second stranger sucked in a breath, and Smits leaned forward, letting out a hum that gave Gaeren fortitude to go on.
