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Supreme Lord to send them the compensation they owe us and word on where to deploy next.”
    After the battle, the new High Lord Gideon asked Alex for peace terms, a prisoner exchange, and a safe place to tend to their wounded, promising to pay damages for the unprovoked attack on Macedon. Alex permitted them to retreat to an abandoned fortress a day’s ride from Pella. It is a place they visited from time to time in the past when King Philip allowed them to stay here for mountain warfare training and hunting.
    He doesn’t trust them. Not about Cynane—if Alex and his men arrived at the fortress to search for her, they would probably just hide her—not about paying the ten talents of gold they promised as reparations, and not about leaving peacefully. Thousands of Lords from all over the known world could attack Macedon like swarms of angry bees. There are rumors of a device the Lords created that breathes fire like a dragon and can incinerate city gates. And the best part of the Macedonian army is with King Philip attacking Byzantium. When Alex asked his father to send some men back to defend the homeland, he refused, sarcastically pointing out that Alex and the Lords had made peace.
    â€œHave our spies and scouts reported any Aesarian ships near our waters?” Alex asks. The fizz in his blood still won’t shake loose, and he continues to pace in short, quick strides. “Are any Aesarian troops marching toward Macedon over land?”
    Kadmus shakes his head gravely, his gray eyes like chunks of ice in his thin, tan face. “None. But the first reinforcements from Macedonian forts arrived this morning, and they should be enough to protect Pella if the Lords are hatching some plot.”
    Theopompus drinks deeply from a black-and-red glazed cup and sets it down heavily, wiping red droplets from his blond beard. “The Chians, the Euboeans, and the Megarans are willing to part with some of their soldiers, if we can pay their price.”
    â€œWe don’t have the money for this!” sputters Hagnon, minister of finance. “King Philip’s march on Byzantium has greatly depleted the royal treasury. And we’ve signed a treaty with the Aesarian Lords! I shall not sign off on such wasted expenses...”
    Alex feels a spike of irritation. Hagnon wouldn’t dare talk to King Philip like this. It’s because Alex is young that the minister is treating him so disrespectfully. As he studies the man who holds the keys to his father’s gold, he tries not to let his dislike show in his face.
    Not only is the man miserly, but he clearly enjoys wielding such power over the prince regent. Alexander, like everyone else, is forbidden from touching the royal coffers. If only there was a way of convincing the man that this is more important than petty power struggles. Suddenly, Alex stops pacing. Perhaps, there is a way...
    Pulling out a chair from across Hagnon, Alexander sits and folds his hands on the priceless ebony table. Some slave has polished it to a reflective gleam, and it smells of beeswax and lemon. Alex steadies his breathing as Hagnon rambles on about frivolous spending, empty coffers, and foolish decisions.
    â€œYou are right to be concerned,” Alex interrupts the man, remembering what Katerina told him about getting in touch with her Snake Blood. Relax. Calm yourself. Think of nothing, at first. Be an empty vessel with no thought. Then think of something that makes you happy.
    It’s hard to think of nothing. That’s like having no heart to beat in your chest, no guts in your belly. He pushes away his thoughts as if they were cobwebs, though he is aware of a few shreds dangling. Then he thinks of clouds soft with rain, the warm smell of leather, and the wind in his hair as he rides Bucephalus. He almost floats inside himself.
    â€œAnd you are admirably dutiful in your responsibilities to my father,” Alex continues, locking his eyes with