Thread of Frost

Ch. 48: Can't Save Them All

"No sign of her," Vulcan said. "Halson—" He caught himself. "His Holiness said that she's not in the castle."

Lucia tapped her chin. "Have him send men to find her. She'll be squatting in some back alley in Bardan somewhere with that boy."

Orin fidgeted with a golden signet ring. Camille had seen it before: a sailing ship was carved into the metal, underscored by waves and a compass. The Grayson family crest. She wondered if Orin felt conflicted about his nephew. If he worried for his welfare. If Orin felt that way, he certainly didn't show it.

"I get the sense that..." Eris hesitated. "Penelope Delafort isn't trained in either warfare or politics, Your Majesty. She's hardly a threat to the crown."

Lucia pursed her lips. "Penelope Delafort is a symbol. People that oppose us will rally behind her as the natural heir to the throne. Only an idiot would think otherwise. Find her and take her out."

Eris nodded. "Done."

"Annalise Cidarius?" Lucia asked.

Vulcan shook his head. "Nothing."

Lucia waved a hand. "She'll crawl out of the woodwork soon enough. Keep your ear to the ground. Anything else?"

Eris and Vulcan exchanged a look. A shiver slid down Camille's spine. It was impossible to tell whether it belonged to her or Lucia; their feelings were bound up together, tangled like old jewellery at the bottom of a drawer.

"There are reports, Your Majesty," Eris said.

Lucia leaned forward. "Go on."

"There are whispers of an ancient sword." Eris's throat bobbed. "Celedonia. God-Slayer."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware of its existence."

Eris laced his fingers. He seemed to be choosing his next words very carefully. "Our scouts say that the sword is in Lox."

Silence fell. It was broken only by the pop of a cork; the servant boy was doling out red wine, his small hand shaking. A flash of something white-hot cut through her, so sharp that it felt painful. Lucia was afraid, Camille realized with surprise. The goddess never felt much of anything, but now, she was afraid.

"Where is it?" Lucia asked.

Eris shook his head. "We don't know."

Lucia's voice was eerily calm. "Who else knows this information?"

"At present, we're unsure," Eris said slowly. "But if the Delafort princess is there, along with Holloway and her nightweavers..."

He trailed off, staring down at his laced hands. Vulcan swirled his red wine. Orin spun his golden ring. Only the servant boy moved, leaning over the table to fill up the remaining empty glasses. Lucia rose.

"Make preparations," she said. "We sail at dawn."

Eris glanced at Vulcan. "Your Majesty, a journey of that scale will take time to plan. The guards, the ship, the weaponry..."

"That sword," Lucia said, "is the most valuable object in the world." Her heartbeat was loud in Camille's ears. "I want it in my possession. Now."

Eris exhaled. "Even an extra day would be helpful."

Irritation flickered through her. "What part of—?" Something wet splashed her chest. Lucia hissed out a breath. "Idiot."

"Sorry!" The serving boy backed away, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

Lucia looked down. Red wine was soaking through her white gown, blooming like poppies in snow. She raised her hand — gearing up for the strike — and the servant boy cowered. The goddess swung. No, Camille thought fiercely.