The Heart of the Lost Star (Tales of the High Court Book 3)

by Megan Derr

  How would it feel to be with someone for that long? His strongest, longest relationship was the one with his children. That wasn't really the same thing.

  Considering everyone seemed to agree with his parents that he was used goods, he doubted he'd ever know the feeling. But oh, he could dream.

  Though dreaming would have to wait for a bit. He paused to drink some tea then settled back to work.

  He was nearly done when someone knocked on his door—Velina, and the pattern of her knocks dropped a sack of stones into his stomach. His mother had come to see him. What in the Pantheon did she want?

  But it wasn't hard to guess. He had never bothered to reply, in writing or person, to the ultimatum his parents had issued. He hadn't thought a reply necessary, but he should have known his mother would think otherwise.

  He stalled for a few minutes by putting everything away and tidying up, but if he took too long, his mother would either storm into the workshop or make Velina miserable pestering her, so with a last steadying breath he went to see her.

  His mother was as beautiful at fifty-one as she'd been when he was a boy, though she detested the wrinkles in her face and the silver threaded heavily through her ink-dark hair. She was dressed in the height of fashion, though he knew she secretly hated the bright colors and elaborate flower embroidery that High Consort Allen had made fashionable simply by wearing it. Until the High Consort's arrival, fashion had been dictated by a handful of nobles, and his mother had been well-acquainted with enough of them to convince herself she held influence. Allen and his fast friendship with Lord Tara had turned everything upside down, and even three years later the High Court still was not certain how to handle the High Consort and his so-called peculiar choice in friends. Kamir thought Lord Shemal and Lord Tara infinitely better choices in friends than anyone else in court; if he dreamed of Jader being his lover, he dreamed of having friends very much like those two.

  "Good afternoon, Mother." He clasped his hands behind his back so he wouldn't fidget or otherwise give away discomfiture. "What brings you to see me?"

  "Did you receive our letter?" she asked. His father would dither and drag and work slowly around a point, be it good or bad. His mother had always been far more direct and ruthless, especially when doing so would cause the greatest hurt.

  Once, it had made him cower and cry. He would never be bright and bold and brave, but he was no longer completely a coward either. Not always, at least. Divorce and children had changed him in many ways. "The one where you told me to secure a marriage in ten months or else you were tossing me and my children out on the street? Yes, I received it."

  Her mouth pinched. "No one is tossing you out on the street except you."

  "I didn't write the ultimatum, Mother."

  "No, you just continue to use us to fund your empty, wasted life and do nothing to return our generosity."

  Kamir didn't flinch at the words, but only barely. "I am hardly a drain on family funds, Mother. I earn my keep, in more ways than one. I have children to raise and doing so takes all my time and attention. Surely you recall how exhausting it was raising three children."

  "I made a good marriage and managed a full manor house and an estate while raising three children. You sit around here tinkering, acting like a common artisan. I'm not certain you're fit to raise your children, honestly."

  Kamir dropped his hands, fingers curling into fists as he closed the distance between them. "Touch my children in any way and you will regret it. If you only came here to threaten me, then get out. I received your ultimatum."

  She smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the front of her gown, keeping her eyes down—but not remotely downcast—as she replied, "I heard a rumor you were seen spending time in the east courtyard with High Commander Jader."

  "He chanced by and talked to the children for a little while; they were enamored to learn he's Islander like their caretaker. Since when do you care if I talk to High Commander Jader? I believe your exact words on him were filthy Farlander with no pedigree, no title, and a laughable concept of wealth. Did I leave anything out? Oh, yes, you actually said filthy Farlander whor—" Kamir grunted as she slapped him.

  "You were more tolerable, Kamir, when you at least knew how to keep a respectful silence."

  "I will not keep giving respect that is never given me." Kamir pulled out a handkerchief to dab at the blood on his lips.

  "You will be given respect when you have earned it."

  "The same goes for you," Kamir replied, quiet and level.

  She narrowed her eyes, and she would probably slap him one more time before she left, but for the moment she left off. "I admit the High Commander is not the finest choice, but he is a Farlander and would not expect the same things as a true Harken citizen."

  "You mean you think he's brutish and uncivilized enough he might be convinced to marry the worthless son you're ashamed of for daring to be young and stupid—"

  And there was the second slap.

  "I can see you still need to think about your options," she replied, drawing herself up. "Let me make things clearer for you: if you don't find someone to marry, you'll have nowhere to go, and do you really think the imperial courts will let you keep children for whom you can't provide?"

  Kamir almost hit her. He'd never punched or slapped anyone in his life, but he almost went for her damned nose right then. "Threaten my children again, Mother, and I will kill you," he said, and took some satisfaction in the barely-audible gasp she couldn't entirely smother. "Get out."

  She went, though she blustered a bit to make it seem as though she was the one choosing to leave. When she was finally gone, Kamir dropped into his seat at the dining table and balled his shaking hands in his lap. He wouldn't cry again, damn it.

  Nope, he was definitely going to cry. Kamir fled to his bedroom so his children wouldn't see him if they came out of their bedroom. Closing the door, he sat on his bed and finally let the tears out.

  It wasn't fair. Not that fair had ever mattered, but how could his mother come and threaten his children? And why did she have to hear so quickly about his conversation with Jader? Couldn't he have one thing all to himself, without his family or his past ruining it?

  Did she really think Jader would ever consider marrying someone like Kamir? Maybe everyone else thought that because he was an Islander he had limited choices, but Jader had risen from practically nothing to being close friends with the most powerful people in the empire. He could have anyone, even if he didn't have a title or a pedigree that met the standards of the High Court. He could so very easily marry into a title and lineage, assuming the High King didn't simply grant him a title at some point.

  Which meant he was as unreachable as the stars he was named after. Not that he hadn't been already.

  But Kamir had gotten to spend a couple of hours with him, and most of that time had been spent watching Jader charm his children, which was the best possible daydream to have come true. If he never spoke to Jader again, he had that memory.

  And if his mother thought he would not fight as viciously as a Carthian for his children, she knew even less about him than he already assumed.

  Right, then. He wouldn't accomplish anything by hiding and crying. Time to gather himself and get back to work.

  Standing, he went into the dressing room to wash his face and straighten his hair. When he was once more back together, he returned to the main room. The children would be re-emerging for dinner soon, so no point in going back to work.

  Instead he gathered up the day's mail and carried it to the table.

  The first interesting piece was a letter from Shiar. Kamir's heart jumped into his throat as he picked up his letter opener and slit the wax. He gave a shaky, disbelieving laugh as he read that Shiar had negotiated the house Kamir wanted down to a price he could manage. It was still slightly higher than he'd budgeted, but he could make it work. That house would be worth the extra cost.

  He wrote a reply confirming the meeting in three
days, fetched his day book to note the appointment, and returned to the mail. Bills, various palace notices, payment for the work he'd recently turned in, and a reminder from his mother that he'd agreed to join them for dinner the day after tomorrow. Ugh, nothing was worse than dining in the public banquet hall with his parents. Well, not much was worse.

  The next piece of mail was a small, thick envelope, with the military's seal pressed into the wax. Something from Jader? Heart speeding up, Kamir opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside—and tried to tamp down his disappointment when he saw it was from Captain Dennar of the Imperial Guard. Why would Captain Dennar be writing him? Kamir finally actually read the brief letter. He nearly dropped it when he'd read the apology for the behavior of his guards for levying a fine they should not have.

  Kamir stared at the words. Why would Captain Dennar go out of his way to write an apology to a nobody over a matter of a one sterling fine? Bemused, he tucked it away and continud on.

  The last piece of mail was from the lower court, which among other things handled the fines that were the favored form of punishment in the imperial palace, and by far the most effective, especially when the High King's patience wore out and he levied the punishment personally.

  Probably a reminder. He hadn't had time to pay his fine, but he still had a few days left in the grace period, which was ten days for small fines. Breaking the cheap seal, Kamir pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

  His eyes widened. It was a receipt for a paid fine, covered on his behalf by an anonymous benefactor.

  Who in the Pantheon would have paid…

  Jader. There was no else who could have. Kamir hadn't told anyone about it, not even Velina. The only ones who knew were him, the soldiers, and Jader—well, and Captain Dennar. That certainly explained the apology.

  Warmth spread through his chest, a smile overtaking his face as he gently touched the receipt. There was nothing at all of Jader in the small slip of paper that looked like ten thousand others, but it was suddenly precious all the same. He carefully folded the paper and slipped it back into the envelope, and tucked it into his day book to put in his memory chest later.

  Chapter Four

  Jader threw himself off his horse as they reached the military pavilion that stood in the center of the primary barracks, which were used by the core of the imperial army, with a handful of buildings devoted to officer quarters and family suites.

  "Line them up," he roared, drawing the attention of soldiers milling about and making those who had returned with him cringe anew.

  Four officers went to the cart that had come in behind him and dragged out eleven soldiers: five officers and six enlisted, all of whom would be lucky if they didn't end the day dead—and they would definitely end it wishing they were.

  A crowd gathered around the edges of the pavilion, everyone whispering and pointing as the eleven men were arranged in two lines: officers first, and then he'd deal with enlisted.

  When they were lined up and left standing there until their anger turned into uncertainty and, in a couple of the moderately smarter ones, fear, Jader finally stepped forward. He took position in the middle of the pavilion, roughly three paces from the arrayed men. "You are officers in the Harken Imperial Army. Do you want to tell me what the fuck you were doing behaving like monsters? Your job is to protect people, not to go about robbing and raping."

  "We didn't—"

  Jader backhanded the man, who dropped to his knees with a pained cry as the strike did no favors to his already broken nose. "I saw the results, and I memorized every single word spoken to me by the victim and those who witnessed your abhorrent behavior. The only reason you're not already dead is that you haven't suffered enough first." He reached down and hauled the man to his feet, then rounded on the other officers. "You knew what he was about but did nothing to stop it, too busy behaving like greedy thieves. Our job was to save Harken citizens, not imitate the Carthians tormenting them. You have one chance, and once chance only, to try and justify to me why your behavior shouldn't see you executed."

  "You can't—"

  "I can uphold the law," Jader cut in, voice soft but razor sharp as he got in the man's face. "I overlook trivialities in the army every day, Lieutenant. What you and your peers did was not a triviality, and you will suffer the full weight of imperial law for your transgressions. Do you understand me?"

  The man's mouth flattened.

  Jader backhanded him too, and when the man was done spitting out blood, repeated, "Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, High Commander," the man bit out.

  Jader turned away to motion the nearby waiting soldiers forward when someone muttered, "Fucking floater."

  Everyone who heard him swore or gasped, and the crowd at the edges of the pavilion all backed up a step.

  Jader slowly turned back around and looked over the men. He knew precisely who'd spoken, knew all their voices well enough by now to identify them blindfolded, but let the fool think he'd gotten away with it for the moment. "I may be a floater, but I am also High Commander and the one who will be deciding whether you suffer punishment or execution. Who said that?"

  None of them spoke.

  "This is your last chance to tell me who spoke. I won't lose sleep over ordering the execution of people who think rape is acceptable behavior, and there are plenty of people waiting for a promotion they will serve better than you."

  It was Penth, the youngest and weakest of the lot, who broke first. "Kasher said it."

  "Yes, he did," Jader said, then surged forward and slammed a fist into Kasher's face, staring dispassionately as he dropped to the ground and fumbled uselessly to staunch the blood from his broken nose. "The next time you feel compelled to use a slur against Islanders, remember what it earned you. I don't expect anyone to like me, but you'll respect me and my people." Turning sharply around, he returned to his position and bellowed, "Strip them!"

  The four officers from before surged past him in brisk strides, their faces grim but set as they roughly stripped the five officers of all but their drawers.

  When they were finished, Jader motioned to the first man. "Secure him."

  Two of the officers grabbed him and hauled him out of the line, knocked him to his knees and held fast to his arms. Jader drew the dagger at his belt and stood in front of the man. "You have committed a capital crime under imperial law, and as a lieutenant in the imperial army, you fall under my jurisdiction. Five officers agreed you are guilty, and I uphold their decision. Those convicted of capital crimes are automatically sentenced to execution. Any last words, Lieutenant?"

  The man said something in low, rough Gearthish.

  Jader moved to stand behind him, grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, and slit his throat in a quick, smooth move. He and the officers stepped back, and moments later the man was dead.

  Stepping through the blood spilling across the pavilion stones, Jader said into the sudden silence, "Clap the rest of them in chains and remand them to the care of Admiral Chief Mazen, to serve ten years apiece on the brig of her choice. Bring the enlisted forward."

  When the officers were gone, and most of the enlisted were crying, Jader finally turned his attention to them. "Like your officers, you ignored the actions of fellow soldiers that were within your power to stop. At the very least, you could have sought help from other officers. Yet you did nothing, and accepted the goods given to you by those officers."

  "We were scared what they'd do to us," one of the men blurted, crying hard, his eyes flitting between Jader and the body lying a few paces behind him. "They've been nasty before to anyone who doesn't fall in."

  Jader's mouth tightened. No army was perfect, and problems slipped past him despite his best efforts, but something like this incident should not have happened and it was largely his fault. A deputy high commander would better be able to oversee such things while Jader handled other matters. Lesto had noticed him for a similar reason.

  "You should have come
to me, if you trusted no one else," Jader said. He motioned sharply. "Put them in stocks for three days, then put them on shit duty for three months. When their punishment is complete, I want them and full reports from supervising officers in my office at first bell. Am I understood?"

  A chorus of "Yes, High Commander" echoed through the pavilion. Jader turned and strode off into the palace.

  He stopped short to see the man standing just inside the doors, leaning against the wall dressed in clothes finer than even Sarrica's. "Lesto."

  Lesto pushed off the wall. "Looks like you're having quite the day. I'm sorry about the execution."

  "I'm sorry I didn't notice the problem before such an awful thing happened," Jader said bitterly, and fell into step alongside him as they walked through the halls. "What brings you to Harkenesten?"

  "Sarrica wanted me near to hand when the rest of that Bentan ship arrives, which should be any time now. Shemal said to tell you hello and that he hoped to see you at supper."

  Some of Jader's misery faded at the mention of Shemal, probably his only other real friend after Lesto, Sarrica, and Allen.

  His thoughts flitted briefly to Kamir, sweet and beautiful and captivating, but a couple of brief encounters did not a friend make. But the thought they could be friends someday was nice, now he'd properly met and spoken with Kamir. He was more baffled than ever that he was related to such unpleasant, tiresome people.

  "Your presence would be welcome and appreciated," Jader said with a sigh. "Did Sarrica tell you…"

  "That you are the long-lost son of the Duchess of Abernoth? Yes. I think in your position I would not be terribly pleased by the news either."

  More of Jader's tension eased to hear those words. "Thank you."

  Lesto smiled and briefly gripped his arm. "Go clean up. And get something to eat. You're going to need it when the Bentans arrive, especially given how long your day has already been. Did you at least deal with the Carthians?"