by Cayla Kluver
Saadi grinned. “I thought you had forgotten.”
“Not at all.” I pressed the coin into his hand. “But you have to go. My sister will be coming to find me at any moment. She can’t see us together or she’ll tell my mother and probably Cannan. We could both end up in dismal straits.”
I expected him to ridicule me for being afraid of my mother, but he did not.
“What do you say, Shaselle? Two days from now I’ll be off duty.”
“You really want to see me?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, pale blue eyes sparkling, his bronze hair sticking erratically up in front.
“All right then.”
“Wonderful. I can meet you whenever, wherev—”
“On one condition.”
His smile faded and his tone grew wary. “Which is?”
“I’ll spend a day with you only if you can beat me in a horse race.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Of course I can beat you.”
“Then prove it. We’ll each pick a mount and race—I’ll need to borrow one from your Cokyrian stables. Take it or leave it. Either way, I have to go now. But I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, boy.”
He smiled, intrigued by my challenge. “I’ll take it, but let’s raise the stakes. Make it more worthwhile.”
Curious, I motioned for him to go on.
“If I win, you agree to spend two days with me, when I’m off duty. If you win, you get to keep the horse you chose to ride.”
I stared into his eyes for a long moment, until I was certain he wasn’t toying with me. He knew as well as I did that I would choose one of my father’s horses—one that had been stolen by his sister. He was giving me a chance to bring one of them home. My spirits soared, and I extended my hand. Saadi shook it, then shoved the basket at me, turning to stride away. Just in time, too, for Dahnath was approaching.
“A good chat?” I innocently asked her.
“You were terribly rude to Drael, you know.”
I’d all but forgotten my sassy attitude toward her betrothed. The day had become too delightful, however, to risk landing in trouble at home, so I apologized.
“I was rude. I’m sorry. I was just having a little fun, but it was at his expense. I won’t do it again.”
Dahnath appraised me, then nodded. “Thank you, Shaselle. Let’s go home.”
Still worried she might tell Mother what I’d done, I let her present the fabrics once we were back in our parlor. Mother was pleased with the selections, and showed her appreciation by giving us leave to enjoy the rest of the day.
With no plans and no pressure, I jogged up the stairs to my bedroom, flopping gracelessly on the bed. I wondered what Cannan was doing right now, what Steldor and Galen were doing. Then my thoughts shifted to Saadi. What was he doing? Was he smoothing his hair? Was he fighting with his sister? Was he breaking up some brawl in the street? Or was he thinking of me?
Believing I had hit on the truth with the last possibility, I curled up on my side, permitting myself to daydream and doze. It was quite a pleasant way to pass the time, especially since I could see his freckled face behind my closed eyelids.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
IN SEARCH OF FAMILY
ALERA
Narian was again preparing to journey to Cokyri. There was much he needed to report to the High Priestess, including the news of the city’s completion, but most notably the incident with Steldor and the Hytanican flag. I knew he was not looking forward to sharing that piece of information, but we didn’t talk about it, for it had to be done. Nonetheless, he was tenser than usual, barking his final instructions to his soldiers in the strategy room. Though this was not the best time to raise an issue with him, I had something of greater importance than Steldor’s behavior on my mind.
I caught his arm in the Hearing Hall before he could head to the Grand Entry.
“May I talk to you?” I asked, my voice hushed.
He sighed, impatient to be on his way. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not wrong. But it is important.”
“Then walk with me. If I don’t depart soon, I’ll never reach Cokyri before dark.”
He started toward the antechamber, motioning for me to follow. Left with no choice, I acquiesced, uncomfortable with the number of Cokyrians milling about, the number of people who could hear us.
“I’d prefer to talk in private, Narian.”
He nodded and ushered me into the antechamber, which was fortuitously empty, then turned to face me.
“Very well. What is it that cannot wait?”
“I want you to talk to the High Priestess about Rava.”
“Rava?” He seemed annoyed by my request, though it didn’t strike me as out of line.
“Yes, I don’t trust her. She’s been creating problems since the start, and with the disrespect she displayed toward you, toward us, in carrying out Steldor’s punishment… Something needs to be done.”
“I see.”
“You said the High Priestess was like a mother to you once,” I pressed, trying to elicit something more from him. “She cares for you, regardless of your feelings for her. You can sway her.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
His manner softened, and he walked toward me, brushed his fingers into my hair and kissed me sweetly on the lips.
“I have to go,” he said, taking a step back. “I’ll only be gone a few days this time. No longer than necessary.”
He left the antechamber, and I did the same, but in the direction from which I had come, stepping back into the Hearing Hall.
“Grand Provost.”
Rava’s voice, clear and crisp, startled me. She stood to my left, in the doorway of her office, and I had the impression she had been watching for me.
“Come in for a moment.”
The Cokyrian second-in-command retreated into her alcove, and I followed, closing the door as she went to stand behind her desk.
“How much power do you think he has?” she asked contemptuously, straightening her black tunic with a hard tug on the bottom.
“I don’t understand.” I tenaciously met her eyes, despite the dread creeping along my spine. It was obvious she had overheard my conversation with Narian.
“I understand the influence you have all too well. The commander will do exactly what you want, bend to your will. That alone should prove to you that strength is a woman’s endowment, not a man’s.”
She was testing me, taunting me, and I resented her for it.
“Are you going to continue with cryptic comments or are you going to say what you mean?” I demanded, rallying to take the offensive.
“You may love Nantilam’s little prince, but you’re blind to the fact that he is an instrument. He has been from the beginning and he always will be, until she has no further use for him. Nantilam cares for him and would rather see him alive than dead, but she will not listen to him, or to words he bears from you. I have her ear. She will listen only to the most powerful woman in this godforsaken province, and that woman is me.”
She was baiting me, successfully; I was on the verge of losing my temper. Knowing that would be a mistake, I let the silence between us lengthen, taking several slow and steady breaths. Then I gave her a small smile.
“The High Priestess made me Grand Provost because she wanted a woman in control who would understand the people. You do not understand my people, Rava. You keep them miserable because you
fear them. And everything else aside, that makes you weak.”
Though Rava glowered at me, I was done with her, and coolly left her office. I could almost feel the slow tick of time, counting down to Narian’s return. He would prove one of us right and one of us wrong.
* * *
By midmorning, my mind felt dried up, brittle—I had not stepped out of my study once, busy with paperwork and tiny problems that Rava kept sending to me. She was in charge of the Cokyrian forces whenever Narian was gone, and it was manifest from the number of frivolous questions I’d been receiving from low-ranking Cokyrian soldiers that I had irked her during our brief conversation. Though this pleased me, I desperately needed something on the horizon if I were to survive this day.
Most often, this something would have been the prospect of Narian coming to me in the evening, but now I would have to fill that time in some other way. As my mind considered the possibilities, I thought back to Narian’s hesitant inquiry about reconnecting with his Hytanican family. Perhaps there was something I could do to help. Perhaps it was time to begin building a bridge across the necessary waters.
I sent a message to Baron Koranis and Baroness Alantonya at their city home, soliciting an invitation to dinner. With Narian in Cokyri, I could, without his knowledge, get a sense of his family’s feelings toward him; if there were no hope, he didn’t need to be hurt. I received the reply I wanted later in the day—my sister, Temerson and I were invited to dine the following evening at the Baron’s estate. I went directly to Miranna’s quarters to tell her of the plans I had made.
“We’ll be happy to accompany you,” my sister effused. “I don’t see Semari nearly as often as I used to, and I miss her so.”
“Then I’m glad I was able to arrange this visit.”
“But you didn’t do it for me, Alera. I presume this has something to do with Narian?”
“Yes, it does. I thought I would see if there is any chance of reuniting him with his family. He doesn’t know I’m doing this, of course, but I believe he would be open to the idea.”
“Are you sure this is something you ought to explore, Alera?” Her voice was skeptical, and she began to twirl her hair, a mannerism that took hold when she was nervous or worried. “Semari is already afraid her relation to Narian is limiting her choice of suitors. She and her family may well want to keep their distance from him.”
I nodded, recognizing the truth in her statements.
She leaned toward me, a sparkle in her blue eyes. “They might feel differently, however, if they knew of your relationship with Narian.”
“That’s not yet possible.” I laughed. “Koranis has never been one to keep his mouth closed. Can you imagine how fast the story would spread?”
“The juiciest stories spread the fastest!”
“Our people are still adjusting to the idea of a woman in power. They aren’t ready to learn that the woman is in love with the enemy.” I studied her, then a new thought came to me. “Mira, do you approve of my relationship with Narian?”
“Of course! I’ve known of your feelings for each other for two years now. He’s a good man who was put in an untenable position. I don’t know what any of us would have done had his decisions been ours to make, so I am not about to judge him. And I am bound as your sister to love him.”
“Well then, perhaps you could share your opinions about Narian with Semari. Put in a good word for him.”
Miranna smiled and gave me a quick hug. “I’ll gladly help in any way I can, and I’ll enlist Temerson, as well.” As my eyes widened in concern, she cheerfully added, “I’ll keep your secret, dear sister. I won’t breathe a word about the fire that rages between Narian and you.”
* * *
I spent the next day attempting to formulate some sort of strategy. While there was no guarantee Narian’s family would welcome him back, his father would be the primary obstacle. Koranis had never been able to handle the fact that his son had been raised in Cokyri, and had disinherited Narian long ago. He would not feel the need to reconnect, although I hoped he would have some desire to do so.
I still had no clear idea of how I would proceed when we arrived that evening at the Baron’s beautiful home. We were met by a servant and escorted to the Reception Hall, a sign that Koranis was approaching this visit quite formally, for this room was grand in scale and generally reserved for parties. As I crossed the threshold, I felt like I had stepped into a portrait, for everyone was in their finest garb and had been carefully positioned within the richly appointed space.
The Baron and Baroness stepped forward to greet us, Koranis attired in a gold-and-cream overcoat, with rings aplenty on his fingers. He was even heavier than I remembered him to be, his double chins having rolled into a third, and his pate was almost bald. Alantonya, her soft features still beautiful, wore a brilliant green gown with a striped and ruffled high-necked collar that regrettably brought a peacock to mind. As for their children, Semari struggled for breath in a tightly laced gown, her white-blond hair done up in a fancy bun; Charisa and Adalan, in jewel-toned dresses and simple gold tiaras, looked more like princesses than I ever had; and Zayle, freshly twelve and the heir to his father’s fortune, displayed clothing that outshone the ostentatiousness of his father’s, along with an attitude to match. This was likely to be a long evening.
Wine was served, and Koranis launched into a babble of small talk.
“We’ve been quite well, Your Highnesses. Zayle is learning of business and I’m rebuilding our country estate. Semari also has news, which I’m sure she would like to share herself.”
“I’m betrothed,” Semari announced with a blush, glancing between Miranna and me, her nervousness a sign that she was seeking our approval.
“To Lord Sharron,” Koranis added, smiling indulgently at his eldest daughter. “The wedding will be in January.”
Miranna and I exchanged glances, both of us valiantly holding on to our cheerful expressions. Lord Sharron had been an eligible bachelor for longer than either of us had been alive.
“A well-established family,” I noted, not knowing what else to say. Koranis nodded proudly, though his smile seemed a bit feigned. With his status and wealth, Semari should have been able to marry a young, handsome, rising nobleman, not a lord who was past his prime. Was their connection to Narian really such an impediment?
“I look forward to arranging Zayle’s marriage in the years to come,” Koranis went on, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “My only son—he’ll inherit the world, or at least a good part of this kingdom.” He chuckled, then corrected himself. “Province.”
It wasn’t his slip of the tongue that bothered me; it was the way he referred to Zayle as his only son. How could he so maliciously deny the existence of his firstborn child? He had never tried to get to know Narian, didn’t appreciate his intellect, his strength, his good heart. He didn’t realize what he was giving up—what he’d already given up.
I glanced at Alantonya, who was staring into her goblet, and at Semari, who was still blushing, unconcerned about her father’s slight to her older brother. The other three children showed no reaction, evidently used to this sort of talk. I was beginning to wish I had not come here.
A servant entered to announce that the meal was ready to be served, and we moved into the dining room.
“Grand Provost—how are affairs in the palace?” Koranis asked after we had begun to eat.
“Quite well. For the most part, the Hytanicans in the Bastion
coexist peacefully with the Cokyrians as we work to improve conditions for our people. The news of the city’s successful reconstruction has lifted everyone’s spirits, and much is being accomplished toward restoring our economy, thanks in no small part to Narian.”
All conversation ceased. Semari and her sisters pushed food around on their plates, the scraping sounds frazzling my nerves; Alantonya put her tableware down altogether; Zayle stared at his father as though waiting for him to set me straight; and Koranis looked shocked and outraged. If I had not been Grand Provost, I suspected he would have thrown me from the house.
Temerson came to my aid. “Narian has been invaluable to us. He is quite invested in the province.”
“I’m sure he is,” Koranis grumbled. “All the Cokyrians are.”
Again that terrible silence. This was far worse than I had imagined, for the Baron was making it abundantly clear that he would never give Narian a chance. I didn’t want the man I loved to be exposed to his father’s attitude or wounded by it. Narian struggled with guilt the way it was—he didn’t need Koranis heaping on more.
“Well, what a lovely meal!” Miranna chirped, her abrupt switch in topic enough to ease the tension. “Have you given any thought to the wedding feast?”
Alantonya began discussing wedding preparations with my sister and Semari, while the rest of us tried to show interest in the conversation, uncomfortable looking at each other. Thankfully, it was not long before we moved into the parlor, a quainter room that was more conducive to casual conversation.
My sister and Semari went to sit together on the settee, the younger pair of girls trailing along. Charisa and Adalan appeared relaxed for the first time all evening, their fear of receiving reprimands for any errors in etiquette banished. There was no need to be anxious around my kind sister. She would be the first to make a mistake, just to set the atmosphere.
Koranis was quick to snatch Temerson away to his study, where they would presumably smoke and have ale, which I knew my sister’s husband would detest. He would much rather have stayed with Miranna, but to refuse would have been impolite. Zayle abandoned the women to follow his father, rather boldly, for he had not been invited to do so.
