Free No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 by Katherine Kingsley Page A

with a smile.
    “Riches are not important to people like myself,” Ali replied seriously. “They are only important to great lords like you, where they are necessary to maintain your standing. For others, riches are merely about greed. They do more harm than good, I think.” She looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking of Hadgi. “The promise of riches,” she added, “can be very bad. It can make people behave in a dishonorable fashion.”
    “Ali—I have rarely seen you so solemn,” Joseph-Jean said. “Does something trouble you?”
    “No,” she said quickly, realizing that she’d nearly said too much. If Handray got even the slightest whiff that things were not as she’d told him, he would interrogate her until he’d dug out the entire truth.
    “Ali?” Andre asked, his eyes sharp on her face. “What is it?”
    “I was only thinking about that horrible man Brutus who wanted riches so much that he was happy to steal them from Xanthos, to make the people his slaves. And look what happened—they all died as a result of his greed.”
    “Yes, but that was their choice,” Andre pointed out. “I don’t think Brutus had any idea that they’d commit another mass suicide. It’s not what people generally do when they’re invaded. And they do say that Brutus wept when he heard their cries—so he wasn’t entirely unfeeling.”
    “Well, when an entire city is burning and everyone is burning with it, I do not know what else he would expect to hear,” Ali replied tightly. “All those poor dear children—and their mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles—”
    “Don’t forget the grandparents,” Joseph-Jean supplied helpfully.
    “And of course their grandparents, too. All suffering an agonizing death because someone else wanted money for his war,” Ali said, tears starting to her eyes at the appalling image. “Now do you see what greed will do?”
    “Yes, Ali, but don’t forget that Brutus felt so terrible that he paid his soldiers a reward for every Xanthian they found alive. So a hundred and fifty of them did survive.” Andre held out a handkerchief, but Ali pushed his hand away, suddenly filled with rage that Andre could be so callous, as if it didn’t matter. He had no feelings at all, none.
    “I don’t need a handkerchief, and how could you defend that terrible man?” she asked furiously, jumping up and glaring at him. “Just because he was a great lord like you does not make what he did right.”
    “That’s not what I—” Andre started to say.
    “Bah!” Ali said in disgust. “All you care about is your stupid history. You and those clever effendis you are always talking about—Fellows, Beaufort, your great hero Lacey, you are all the same.”
    “Well, I can’t object to being listed in that company,” Andre said lightly. “So if you’re trying to insult me you’re doing a very poor job.”
    “None of it is real to you,” she said heatedly. “It is all a big game, a puzzle you put together. You do not care about the people, how they must have felt. And this makes you a stupid man even if you are smart in your head.”
    “What in God’s name—”
    “Oh, never mind!” she said, knowing in another minute she would burst into tears, and she refused to cry in front of him. “You would not understand, anyway. You are right—you have no heart, none at all.” She stormed off.
    Andre looked at Joseph-Jean with astonishment. “What was that all about?”
    “I have no idea,” Joseph-Jean replied. “But something got to Ali. You’ve told that story countless times now and never had a reaction like that.”
    “I know. Oh, well. Whatever it was, Ali will get over it. I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to begin working on the necropolis and with the heat the way it’s been, I want to make an early start.”
    He went to get his bedroll from the tent, for it had been too hot to sleep inside. He settled down but grew progressively more annoyed as he waited for