I told her the same thing I had told Gunner, that we married weeks ago on our way back home. She asked for the details of the marriage. There weren’t many to tell, only a few about a ribbon, vows, and feastcake.
“And it was only the two of you,” she said.
I nodded.
“They had horses for witnesses,” Samuel mused, the barest hint of a roll in his eyes.
“Mije and Tigone,” Wren clarified, her eyes pinning Samuel to his seat, and then flashing a glare at the still-silent Gunner. “Horses that are smarter and more loyal than most people I know.”
“And there was no priest,” my mother added, mostly to herself.
I saw the glances around the table. No witnesses. No priest.
“But there was feastcake,” Synové said enthusiastically. “And nothing says married like a polished-off feastcake.”
She smacked her lips and smiled at Mason. He looked away.
My mother pressed her palms together in front of her. “But vows were spoken?”
“Yes,” I answered.
She leaned back and nodded. “Very well, then. I not only have a new daughter, but one who has sacrificed everything to save our family. We must find a way to get my daughter and your wife back.”
The room remained silent. Instead of a rallying cry, I only hea
rd hushed despair. They had already tried and failed with Lydia and Nash.
I stood. “We’re not defeated unless we give up. We are going to be a kingdom—and we’re going to rescue my wife because she has risked everything for us and time is running out for her.”
“I can still lift a sword,” Tiago called from the back of the room.
“So can I!” from Judith and others.
“We can storm the inn!” from someone else.
“An ambush!”
“We’ll break her out!”
“Poison their water!”
“Blast our way in with your weapon!”
The room came alive with ideas, but few inside these walls had seen the town and what we were up against. A charging brigade of cooks and caretakers, and even a fierce but injured straza, was no match for heavily armed soldiers posted on every rooftop. Not to mention there were all the townspeople, whom we couldn’t put at risk. We had to find a way to get to Kazi without killing citizens in the process. And getting her killed too. Blasting our way in would likely do just that.
Synové and Wren glanced at me, hearing the futility of the suggestions.
Gunner stood up. “We could make a trade.” The room quieted.
“Trade what?” Priya asked. “A bag of sour grain?”
“Me,” he answered. “As far as they know, I’m the Patrei. I’m sure they’d like to get their hands on me. They want to kill all the Ballengers. Why not give them the top one?”
I stared at him. We all knew it wouldn’t work. He probably did too. I had already wrestled with the thought myself. I shook my head. “If they were people of their word, maybe, but they’re not. With the gross imbalance of power, the logistics of a trade are impossible. They would take you and keep Kazi too. A noble gesture, though.” I heard the bitterness in my voice. I would not show him gratitude when he had brought this about. Now that he knew we were going to be a kingdom he was sorry? I couldn’t forgive him for what he had done.
More ideas continued to be thrown out, none of them viable. It was getting late, time running out, and my gut churned as I ruled out each one. I felt desperation taking hold inside me. We needed to find a solution now. I needed to think and rethink. I had to retrace every step. Think of every possibility. Don’t go doing something crazy, Caemus had warned me, but maybe that was exactly what I needed to do, something that no one would expect. I told everyone to go turn in, we’d talk more in the morning. But I had no intention of sleeping—not until I figured out a way to get Kazi back.
* * *