The Tyrant's Law (Dagger and the Coin)

bases of the buildings, and the horses in the streets walked slowly in order to keep their footing. At the bakery, she bought an apple tart and a cup of coffee, sitting by the doorway and watching the traffic in the street. It was her day to visit Sabi-ha’s unmentionable son and the family that was raising him, and had it been any other errand, she would have postponed it and gone back to the comfortable warmth of the boarding house. But children came with a different set of rules, and when she had drained the dregs of her cup and licked away the last of her tart, she bought a sugar bun for the boy and made her way to the house.
    When she left, near midday, she meant to walk directly back to Vincen. Nothing more was required of her, and an afternoon smoking by the fire and reading poems either to herself or aloud to him sounded more than perfect. But her path was going to take her only a few streets from the stables, and she hadn’t bothered checking in there in days. She turned toward the southern gate.
    She was still half a block from it when her former footman stepped out from the front gate and waved her to come closer. Clara’s heart beat a bit faster, and she walked more quickly without breaking into a run. When she drew up to him, he put a hand on her arm and leaned in close enough that his breath was warm against her ear.
    “It’s come,” was all that he said. “Lirin Petty’s got a letter.”
    The stables themselves were dark and hot in comparison to the street. While the sunlight didn’t warm them, the bodies of the horses in their stalls and the warmth radiating from the manure pile were as good as a brazier. Glancing furtively to be sure they were not being watched, he led her to the back and drew a folded and sealed page from beneath a bale of hay. Clara took it gently, as if it were spun glass.
    The thread was simple, the knot work undistinguished. If a letter had been made to seem unremarkable, it would have been like this. The hand, however, was one she had seen many times before. Ternigan, Lord Marshal of Antea, had formed those letters with his own hand. She had to restrain herself from ripping the thread then and there. Instead, she tucked the page away for when she got back to her rooms.
    “Thank you very much,” she said.
    “Anything, m’lady.”
    “Let’s just never mention this,” she said.
    “Not ever,” he said.
    All the way back to the house, the world seemed brighter and warmer, and her body felt buoyed up with the presentiment of victory.
My dear friend—
I have thought long about what you wrote, and though I am not present in court, do not believe that I am unaware of the sentiments you speak of. The siege of Kiaria is going as well as might be expected given that the men have fought through the swamps of Asterilhold, the streets of Camnipol, and all along the vast stretch of Timzinae-infested Sarakal and Elassae. The instructions I have received from Palliako have become increasingly frustrating. When I tell him the situation, he cites stories written in history books or the assurances of his pet cultists. My patience is wearing thin with his cheap buffoonery.
You have known me many years, and you know that my admiration for and loyalty to King Simeon were unmatched. Like you, I have come to the conclusion that the empire is in grave danger, but everything will rest on how we proceed. Without the support of the full court, I am afraid we would risk another summer like the last, and to be honest I fear that prospect more than I fear Palliako.
Your faith in me is flattering, and I appreciate your confidence more than I can say, especially in these dark hours. Would I accept the regency if it were presented to me? My loyalty to the Severed Throne and Prince Aster would require it. But to seek it out is another matter. Before I can commit to that, I would need to know much more. Who is it that you have recruited to your side? What are your plans to overthrow Palliako cleanly and neatly, for whatever action we take, it must be swift and unequivocal and, unlike Kalliam, it must strike true. The Timzinae threat is real, and I fear that without a steady hand at the wheel, the empire’s opportunity to take its rightful place in the world may be squandered.
I understand that this is not the full-throated acceptance that you might have hoped to have from me, but do not doubt that my appreciation and sympathies are entirely with you. In the future, I suggest that you address