Page 11 of Blood of the Stars

“Money.” Gaeren folded his arms across his chest, prepared to start the bartering process.

Larkos lowered his feet. “You know, when you pay the men from the royal coffers instead of giving them shares from that voyage’s trade, they’re less motivated to do well. Plus, it’s a slap in the face after all your talk about favoring democracy.”

Gaeren frowned. This was not the direction he’d thought the conversation was going. “I can’t exactly change things overnight.”

He didn’t mind talk about dissolving the throne. Leadership didn’t need crowns or bonded bloodlines involved. But he also didn’t know how those things were supposed to change without war or harm to his family, two things he could never support.

“Let’s start with one thing at a time.” Gaeren pulled several notes out of his pocket, slapping them down on the table. “I’ll pay the men from the royal coffers, and they can use it to spread their ideas of democracy.”

Larkos reached for the notes, counting them out. “I’m just saying you’re going to need to take some action soon if you want the Recreants you’ve wooed, including your crew, to continue believing in you. For the last year, you’ve walked a fine line, and now the men are anxious to see you do more than talk. You’re halfway to being a Recreant, but as long as you live off the taxes your family collects, you’re still holding on to your old ways as a Loyalist.”

The advantages and disadvantages of Gaeren’s position danced in front of him. The Recreants had been fighting for democracy since before he was born, which meant he had to prove himself to them instead of the other way around. As a part of the royal family, it was assumed he was a Loyalist. Was he loyal to his family? Of course. Was he loyal to the throne? That was where things got a bit more complicated.

“I know,” Gaeren admitted.

Larkos’ gaze flicked to him in surprise.

“I’m just not sure what to do about it.” Gaeren stood, his chair legs scraping against the wood floor. To his relief, Larkos let the topic drop.

“In half a moon?” his first mate asked.

“Or less—a week, if possible.” Gaeren stuck out a hand, gripping Larkos’ forearm. “Even that might be too long. Enla will find reason to keep me here.”

“Sailors are superstitious. I can’t guarantee many of the men will follow you through to Lovers’ Falls.” Larkos said the words without apology, the statement more of a fact than a dig at the quality of men on their ship.

“I don’t expect them to. In fact, the more that stay on board the ship, the faster my trip inland will go. Make sure they know they’ll receive the same payment either way.”

“How generous…” Larkos raised an eyebrow as their hands dropped. “Or secretive.”

Gaeren lifted the corner of one lip. “We’ll see whose curiosity outweighs their superstition.”

By the time Gaeren’s carriage brought him back to the palace’s sprawling estate, the Sun was past its peak and his stomach growled. Beyond the guarded gate, overarching oak trees bordered the lengthy driveway, which felt miles longer than usual—until Enla came into view on the veranda, her slippers tapping an irritated beat on the top step. The stone arches dwarfed her figure. She wore a flowy white dress, and her hair was pulled back to reveal her starlock, which meant she had either just finished a meeting, or she had more to attend. If her queenly activities were done for the day, she’d be back in trousers, hair down, although he’d been seeing her that way less and less as their parents passed over more and more duties.

He took the steps two at a time, planting a kiss on her stiff cheek.

“I’m impressed at how early you rose from bed,” Enla said.

Gaeren flinched at the icy quality of her words. “Someone told me I need to be more responsible. I’m proving them right.” He gave her an easy grin, but she didn’t break.

“I want you at these meetings, Gaeren. Not for you. Not even for the people. For me.” Her porcelain exterior cracked, just for a moment, and she looked away, probably to check for an audience of house staff. Besides the two of them and her guards several paces away, the veranda was empty.

“I’m sorry.” Gaeren ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. And he was. It pained him to know she felt abandoned, but that didn’t change the fact that she was more than competent to handle council members. “I never talk at those things, anyway. Even Mother and Father don’t bother attending because you’ve got it under control.”

This time, her mask cracked to show narrowed eyes and a look that burned. “When’s the last time you saw our parents take part in anything? If you’d stayed for the party last night, you’d have seen them make a show of standing by the cake, giving a wave, then returning to their rooms. I’m worried—” She pressed her lips together and turned away. The crease between her eyes deepened, shifting her starlock where it delicately draped across her forehead.

“Worried about what?”

She held his gaze again, reaching out to smooth the hair near his cowlick. Her voice softened. “I’m worried they’re sick. Or that one of them is sick. That they don’t want us to see how bad it is. Their futures are murky, like they’re not guaranteed to exist.”

This made Gaeren pause. Their parents had always been healthy, and they weren’t old. Plus, there were plenty of somatic progenies on staff who could heal most ailments.

But not all.

He glanced through the open door even though the Sun’s light only showed the curved stairs and a small distance down the hall. His parents’ bedroom and offices were on the second floor in the west wing, far from his own rooms. He rarely saw them on any given day, so it would be impossible for him to know if they were out less.

“Has Mother been taking tea with friends?”

“Not for the last moon.”

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