“You will note that I chose to avoid that requirement.”
“All right, then.” Mischief kindled in his face. “My turn, indeed.”
He leaned in close, until his lips were near my ear. I could feel that wild energy in him, charging the air between us.
“I know about a dangerous legacy you don’t realize you’ve inherited,” he whispered. “I have no hidden motive in courting you.”
All my words withered on my tongue. I stared at him, struck silent.
He straightened and laced his hands behind his head, mussing his black-tipped hair. “Too easy, I know. I can see in your face you’ve guessed right.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ll have to concede this round.”
“What?!” The word burst out before I could stop it, borne on a wave of outrage. How could he stop there, dangling that kind of knowledge in front of me and then withholding it?
But I knew exactly how. He was good at this, damn him. Now I burned to discover what he knew, and what he was up to.
I tried to rein my expression back under control, but I could tell by his damnable grin that he’d seen how he’d gotten to me.
“Conceding, truly?” I asked. “Surely you can’t admit defeat so easily.”
“I can when I’ve met my match.”
Hells. He hadn’t lost, and he knew it. He’d angled his cards to show me his winning hand and then declined to play it down. “You are a maddening individual, Lord Kathe.”
He bowed modestly. “Thank you, my lady. One does one’s best.”
As he straightened, his eyes went past my shoulder and his smile widened. “Ah! La Contessa Lissandra Cornaro.”
I whirled, my heart spasming as if it might burst. Sure enough, my mother stood there, resplendent in an amber gown worked with subtle embroidery to turn the skirts into a stylized map of the Serene Empire. Her auburn hair cascaded artfully over one shoulder, secured with an elegant golden comb that wrapped a tiny globe in jeweled artifice wirework. Her calculating gaze took us both in as she dipped a brief but gracious curtsy to Kathe, which was more than she afforded most royalty.
“Lord Kathe, of the Domain of Let. I’m pleased to see you honor Raverra with such a rare visit.”
He returned a cocky bow. “The honor is mine. Thank you for inviting me to this most entertaining occasion. I nearly didn’t come, but now I’m so glad I did.”
I stared at my mother. She had invited him? Good Graces. I’d taken a blind leap into the middle of one of her schemes. I could only hope I hadn’t done too much damage.
“I hear,” my mother said with a sharp-edged smile, “you’re courting my daughter.”
Of course she knew already. Graces preserve me. I bit my lip to keep from blurting excuses for not consulting her first.
“It’s true.” Kathe spread his hands, as if it were a great wonder how this could have occurred. “Impulsive, I know, but think of the possibilities! Do we have your permission?”
La Contessa held his gaze a long moment, unflinching despite his mage mark. At last, she said, “Amalia is a Cornaro. She makes her own decisions and does not require my permission. But I’m delighted our family will have the chance to cooperate with you—and I assure you, we make formidable allies.”
The steely note in her voice made clear the unspoken corollary that she also made a formidable enemy. Somehow, the knowledge that my mother would implicitly threaten a Witch Lord for me warmed my heart.
Kathe chuckled. “I look forward to discovering what our families can do together. And to the discussion you invited me here to have, Lady Cornaro.” He tilted his head, as though listening. “In the meantime, I should offer my respects to the doge, and I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.” He bowed. “Until later this evening.”
I dipped a curtsy in return. He’d hardly made it three steps away when my mother grabbed my arm in a companionable sort of way, if velvet-sheathed steel can be considered companionable.
“I’d invited the Crow Lord here to discuss the possibility of an alliance, on Ambassador Varnir’s information, but it would seem you beat me to the negotiating table.” Even pitched to go no farther than my ears, her voice retained its rich resonance. “What agreement did you make with him, exactly, Amalia?”
Hells. What had we agreed to? I tried to recall the details of our conversation, but it was a blur of balancing bits of glass and striving not to sound like an idiot. “Nothing, really, except to court each other. As a symbol of alliance only, to dismay our mutual foes.”
My mother’s elegant brows drew down. “Will he defend us if other Witch Lords attack? Allow us to move troops through his domain? Use his magic on our behalf?”
She always made me feel five years old again, as if I’d wandered into the middle of a Council meeting looking for sweets and any minute Old Anzo would come hustle me back out. “I’m afraid our conversation wasn’t that specific. I’m sorry, Mamma. An opportunity came up, and I did my best, but I’m not as good at this as you are.”
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “No, it’s all right. From what I understand of him, there was never much chance he’d commit to anything. I’m surprised you got as much as you did.”
I couldn’t tell if that was praise or just low expectations. I gave a tiny nod.
She glanced around, checking to make sure no one was in earshot. “Don’t trust him,” she murmured. “He’s not known for cruelty like some of the others, but he might leave you dead in a ditch if he thought it was funny.”
I caught her sleeve. “Is this a terrible idea? Did I make a mistake?”
My mother hesitated. “We need him. His domain borders those of the Lady of Thorns and Ruven’s father; if they’re concerned about having the Crow Lord at their backs, they can’t bring their full strength to bear against us.” She let a breath pass her lips, releasing some hope or worry she didn’t care to shape into words for her daughter. “But it’s a risk. I wouldn’t have asked you to do it. If you ever feel you need to end this charade, for your own safety or happiness, don’t hesitate to do so. As to whether it’s a mistake … Well, we’ll see.”
I nodded, apprehension knotting my throat.
My mother touched my cheek with a gentle, perfumed hand. “Be careful, Amalia. The Witch Lords play politics by different rules than we do. If you lose this game, you could lose your life.”
Chapter Six
You’re joking,” Zaira said.
I’d found her sipping wine at the edge of the room, still flushed from dancing. She narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion, setting her glass down on a nearby table.
“I’m afraid not,” I replied.
“But the Witch Lords are all crazy as a sack of vipers.”
I shrugged, stirring the trails of shimmering lights in my hair. “In wartime, we all must make sacrifices.”
Zaira shook her head. “And all they want me to do is kill a few thousand people. I don’t think I’d trade.”
“Thanks.” I wished I were as calm as I sounded. A bubble of panic was slowly growing in my chest, now that what I’d done had had time to sink in.