Steelhands - Jaida Jones [206]
“Close the door, Balfour,” Antoinette suggested. I did as I was told.
The Esarina shut her book, making a loud noise in the quiet room. “What has happened?” she asked, not missing the state of our attire. “Is it an attack? My husband once said that you would come for me if Thremedon were to fall.”
Antoinette made a pained sound. “Thremedon’s under attack,” she said bluntly, defying all rules of diplomacy that I had ever been taught, “but it’s from His Highness this time, and not an outside source.”
“I see,” the Esarina replied. Her voice betrayed nothing—no worry, no shock. It was as tranquil as her face, which in turn registered no emotion. “What has he done?”
“He’s rebuilt the dragons,” I said; now that I’d found my voice, there was no time for timidity. “We’ve seen the pieces, and my fellow … ex–Chief Sergeant Adamo’s seen the completed versions.”
The Esarina lifted a hand to her mouth, bowing her head over her book. She wasn’t wearing gloves, as she had been the last time I’d seen her, and I could see that her knuckles were red, as though she made a habit of wringing her hands. I understood that well enough. It was why I’d worn gloves, once—to hide that exact detail.
“I never dreamed he’d go this far,” she said at last. “He spoke often, quite passionately, about what the Dragon Corps had meant to him and how he felt that it had been taken away by the circumstances of war, and … And by the airmen. Not that I believe he blamed you, necessarily, but I believe he always felt as though the reality never quite lived up to the dream. Their popularity was not his, nor their victories. Not really. But to accomplish all this in secret … How did he ever manage to hide their construction?”
“They’re significantly smaller than the first dragons,” Antoinette explained. “And Nico is gifted in secrecy. You must know that better than anyone.”
I wondered if she was referring to something more personal between them—but if the Esarina took that meaning from Antoinette’s words, they didn’t seem to wound her as they might have wounded a lesser person.
“Still, to break our treaty with the Ke-Han, after all the trouble we went to in order to get it signed in the first place … Did you have any idea what he was up to, Antoinette?” the Esarina asked, raising her head at last. “I know he confided in you more than he ever did in me.”
“If I had, Anastasia, rest assured that I would not have allowed things to progress to the point of my arrest,” Antoinette said almost wryly. “The facts are simple: Your husband has betrayed his country. You must know what would happen to Volstov if we were shown to be treaty-breakers. I, for one, do not wish my inaction to instigate another war.”
“Nor I,” the Esarina agreed.
Antoinette pressed on. “We have come to escort you to a place of safety until it can be decided how best to deal with Nico. I speak for the Basquiat when I say that your influence would be welcomed for dealing with the people.”
“I must say, I never expected to hear such things from you,” the Esarina said. “But then, I cannot imagine I would ever be prepared to hear such things from anyone.” She still didn’t seem particularly upset, but then I knew better than anyone what diplomatic training could do to help someone obscure her emotions. Surely the Esarina would have been rigidly coached—even more than her husband, so that she could appear soft and pleasing while the Esar appeared to be strong. “Do you believe we must depose my husband?”
“I do,” Antoinette replied with a certainty in her voice I didn’t share. I agreed with her assessment—but it wouldn’t have been so easy for me to speak the final words.
“And you have come to take me to the Basquiat,” the Esarina mused. “That must mean …”
“You are the figurehead under which our country must now unite,” Antoinette said. “You are a member of royalty; the second-in-command in title. The people