“There is a book finder in town,” she answered with building enthusiasm. “He manages a sort of revolving library. You can borrow any book from him, for a monthly fee, as long as you return the volume within two weeks. It’s truly marvelous how extensive his collection is.”
That was a very good businessman to come up with such a system. Of course, he could probably only cater to the very elite and educated, but even they didn’t want to pay the hefty price a book would cost. Especially since they might only want to read it once or twice. “I don’t suppose you would introduce me to him?”
She blinked, caught off-stride. “You enjoy reading, General?”
“I do,” he assured her, a little amused at her surprise. “You actually have a great deal of time for it as an officer. Battles never happen entirely on schedule, you know. It seems like all you do on duty is hurry up and wait. Having a book on hand is a habit that I’ve developed over the years.” It would be especially good to read more Niotese considering his lack of schooling with the written language. If this country would truly have his tomb one day, then he needed to become as thoroughly comfortable here as any native. Reading more of their literature would be a good step to take in order to become that.
“Are…,” she hesitated, watching his expression carefully as she spoke, “all generals as educated as you are?”
“Heavens no!” he responded with a laugh. “Some of the worst half-wits I’ve ever met had the rank of general. Worse, I had to work with them. But you always have a few in any occupation that got their position through connections rather than ability.” Considering her question again, he added honestly, “And I’m not really that educated.”
She regarded him steadily, eyebrows furrowing a little. “You’re determined to throw one surprise after another at me today, aren’t you?”
He tried not to smile. “I suppose I have been, at that. Raja, you have heard that I’m a merchant’s son, haven’t you?”
“I have,” she admitted. Shrugging slightly she added wryly, “But I didn’t really believe it, not after having spoken with you. You seemed too educated for such a background.”
“My father traded information more than goods,” he explained, rather complimented that her opinion of him was so high. “My schooling was very haphazard, but thorough in its own way. I didn’t receive any formal education until I entered the military academy in Brindisi at seventeen. The only reason I know as much as I do is because I read whenever I can get my grubby hands on a book.”
She didn’t look like she entirely bought this story. “Just by reading? I don’t think I believe that. I’ve seen you ask many questions from everyone around you after all.”
That was the third time that she’d remarked on some habit of his with such confidence. Just how much did she notice about him? Was she observing him as closely as he did her? I truly hope so. “Do I? But then how else am I to learn?”
“You make it seem easy.” She reached out and with light fingertips stroked the hardcover of the book. “I rely on the written word.”
“Not true,” he denied, tilting his torso forward in order to catch her eyes and draw her back to him. “You asked me a great many questions when we first met, remember?”
She gave him quite the look. “You charmed me into talking to you.”
“Ah.” And here he thought he’d been subtle about it. “You, ah, noticed that.”
Her tone became very dry. “Oh yes. But I didn’t mind. You’re very easy to speak with.”
“You say that,” he said softly, “but I see an unasked question in your eyes. It seems every time I talk with you, it’s there, hovering but never spoken.”
Her eyes swept down and away, staring at the tiles of the courtyard. “You don’t wish to speak of it.”
In a flash of intuition, he knew what she wanted to ask. “You want to know the full story of when I left Brindisi.”
“You don’t wish to speak of it,” she repeated, firmer, although her eyes didn’t leave the ground.
Again. Again she was putting up a wall between them. More than speaking of his past, he hated this distance. If telling her the story would erase it, then he would certainly do so. “Amalah.”
Her body went taut at the use of her given name. After a shaky breath she slowly turned to look at him. He met her eyes steadily and repeated, “Amalah, I consider us to be friends. But if I need to go fetch some bread to make it more official for you, I will certainly do so.”
For the longest moment, she stared at him as if she didn’t know how to respond. Then her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and she shook her head. In a husky voice she said, “No need. We are friends.”
Daring to reach out, he slowly laid a hand over one of hers. When she didn’t flinch from the contact, he gathered up her hand in a gentle grip. As limited as the contact was, the feel of her warm skin gave him a sense of comfort that he’d rarely felt since leaving home. Just as slowly, she shifted her hand to return the grip, eyes searching his as if trying to discern if he had some ulterior motive.
He didn’t, not really. Well, any man would enjoy holding hands with a beautiful woman, but in this case he wasn’t thinking anything carnal. It just became easier to speak of that dark time while being connected with her. “Then as my friend, will you hear my story?”
Amalah tightened her grip on him even as she nodded. “I will.”
“In order for my story to make sense, I must ask, are you aware of the deceased king’s plans for a northern conquest?”
She responded like any child listening to a new bedtime story. She leaned even further forward, attention riveted. “I had heard rumors.”
Rumors, eh? “They were true. He had been focused on the northern countries for quite some time, but his council of generals always convinced him that the timing wasn’t right. Perhaps he grew tired of hearing that. Last spring, he ordered me to take a conquering force and go north. I argued with him—it was not wise. The only path open at that time of the year is a narrow mountain pass. The snow coverage wasn’t melted by that point. Just a two month delay would make a great deal of difference. But he wouldn’t hear of it.
“For hours, I tried to reason with him but to no good end. The best I could do was draw a promise from him. He swore to me he would reinforce the capital’s garrison by the time I left.”
“Why was that necessary?” she interrupted.
Oh. Right. She wouldn’t know. “Because of his impatience, he only gave me two weeks to prepare. I had to draw heavily on the local garrisons in order to have the troops I needed.”
She nodded in understanding. “So the capital had a skeletal guard. I see.”
“The reinforcements had not arrived by the day I needed to depart. But he assured me they were on their way. I believed him.”
“You should not have?”
“No,” he sighed with remembered regret. “He never sent for them. But I marched northward with every belief that my home was safe. The campaign was the disaster that I had predicted. Muddy roads slowed our advance, the only path northward that was clear was so narrow that it acted as a fatal funnel—half of my force was decimated just trying to get through. I would have lost them all if I had not retreated when I did. I came back barely three weeks after I had set out. And in that time…,” he clenched his free hand into a tight fist, nails biting into his skin as he fought back a wave of renewed anger. “In that time, the Roran barbarians had managed to somehow get to the capital.”
Darius looked up at her, and his lips drew back in a feral snarl. “Because that man broke his promise with me, half of the city was laid to waste. I lost most of my friends and family to the conquering force. I even had to reconquer it!”
She almost flinched at his roar of anger, but her eyes held his steadily. “So that’s why.”
“A king is not above the laws of the land,” he spat out harshly. He took in a deep breath to try and regain his composure. He didn’t regain it, but continued anyway. “When he breaks
a promise, he must pay a consequence. When his actions lead to the deaths of others, then he must be punished. Because of that man’s arrogance and stupidity, thousands died. I could not ignore that.”
“So you killed him,” she summarized quietly. Her hand squeezed his, the other coming around to lightly stroke his skin. The action, as simple as it seemed, calmed him a little. It grounded him and silently reminded him that he was here and not there.
He gave a hollow laugh. “It sounds so simple when you say it. When I finally did win back the city—and that took almost two weeks of some of the dirtiest fighting and tactics I’ve ever seen—I pulled him out of a dungeon cell. He congratulated me. He threw a banquet that night in my honor, as if he had done nothing wrong. As if he had not done anything to apologize or make atonement for. I couldn’t stand it.” He took in a harsh breath and pushed it out again slowly, trying to regain his temper. When he felt calmer he continued in a huskier tone. “I snuck into his room that night and killed him in his sleep. Then I went to the chamber next to his and woke up the prince. I told him what I had done and ordered him to be a better ruler than his father.”
She lifted her free hand and clasped in front of her mouth, eyes flaring wide. “You told him?”
“Of course. How else do you think everyone knows it was me that did it? There were no witnesses when I killed the king. I could have walked out of that palace and none would have been the wiser.”
He had astonished her. For several seconds she didn’t know how to respond, although judging from the way her mouth opened and closed several times, she wanted to. Finally she croaked, “Then why did you say anything?!”
“Amalah, I am not above the laws of the land either. I killed a man in cold blood. I took upon myself the title of judge and executioner, which I do not have the right to do. I must be punished for that.”
“Then why run?”
“It was not my intention. But when I woke up the prince, he ordered me to try and survive. He could not absolve me of my deed that night, not without a political uproar, but he knew of the promise that his father made and broke. He gave his own forgiveness and ordered me to run with the intent to live.”
“And so you ran,” Amalah said, almost in a rhetorical fashion. “But…was there not another way?”
“There’s always a better path. I was just too angry to see it at the time,” he admitted ruefully. “I still am.”
Her dark eyes became unreadable, expression smooth. “I suppose in your place, I might feel the same. What did the queen think, when you told her the story?”
“I didn’t.”
She stared at him as if his words didn’t make any sense. “You didn’t…you didn’t tell her what happened?!”
“No. Well, not the full story. I only told her about the oath I made. She knew enough of the other pieces to form the picture on her own.” His eyes fell to their joined hands. He found it hard to look at her at that moment, for some reason. “The only person I’ve told the full story to is you.”
Her mouth opened and closed several times as if she wanted to respond but couldn’t think of what to say. What finally emerged was, “I can’t believe that Queen Tresea didn’t demand the full tale. That’s so unlike her.”
“She did want to know,” Darius corrected with a crooked smile. “But I didn’t want to tell her.”
“So you didn’t.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Then why tell me?”
“I didn’t want there to be any room for doubt to grow in your heart.” Even to himself, he couldn’t explain why that was so important. It just…was. She needed to know, and he had to be the one to tell her. “If ever you hear a different version, you’ll know the truth.”
Amalah clearly didn’t know how to respond to that, either. “I—”
“Raja Amalah!” a voice called from below. Darius recognized it instantly—that particular screeching tone belonged to Hali, Amalah’s maid/chaperone/watch dog.
The moment between them broke and shattered as if it were never there. Forcing a smile, Amalah drew back her hand and stood. “I must go. Thank you, for telling me the story.”
Cursing Hali soundly in his head, he stood with her, fetching the book off the bench and handing to her. “Thank you for listening.”
“Raja!” Hali called again, a note of impatience in her voice.
Grimacing, Amalah took the book from him. “Perhaps we’ll be able to talk soon.”
“I look forward to it,” he assured her. He stood and watched her leave the water garden, hand flexing open and closed. These stolen moments of chance meeting were both heaven and hell. Why couldn’t he spend more than five minutes with her without someone interrupting? Of course, the only way that a single man of status could be in the company of a young woman of equal status without causing a fuss would be to court her, which would be…
Darius froze when he couldn’t immediately finish that thought. Which would be, what? He’d avoided any entanglements with women in the past for various reasons ranging from the political to simple personal preference. But Amalah didn’t have any unwanted baggage that he knew of. And he certainly didn’t find anything about her to be lacking. Sego and Tresea were both subtly pressuring him into choosing a bride anyway. Actually, his whole House was. Would Amalah be a bad choice?
He slowly sat back down on the bench, mind racing. On a personal level, he thought he would be quite happy having her as a wife. She would be a good companion. But he hardly knew anything of her background or current situation. Usually, a young woman with her status was betrothed from a very early age. He had seen no sign of a fiancé but what he knew of the court’s interrelationships couldn’t fill a thimble. She could very well be attached to someone and he wouldn’t know of it.
Making a snap decision, he hastily gathered his letter, quill, and ink. Before making any decisions, he needed to ask some very pointed questions. Hopefully, he’d get the answers he wanted. If not, well…if not, he’d think about it then.
He didn’t, of course, get to go investigating like he wanted to. In fact, he didn’t even have a foot inside of his own door when Sego ambushed him.
“Don’t do that,” Darius complained to him. “It’s bad for a man’s heart to jump out at him like that.”
Sego irritably waved this away as inconsequential. “The queen has summoned you.”
“Now?” At this late hour of the evening? Most people were either finishing up some gossip at the formal dinner or heading for bed right now. “Did she say why?”
“Only that she wanted you to come now,” Sego responded with a shake of the head.
“Did she mention where I needed to go?”
“Her personal garden. Where were you anyway? Lost again?”
“Just because I’m not within your line of sight doesn’t mean I’m lost, Sego.” He rolled his eyes and pivoted on his heel, heading back out the door.
“So where were you?” Sego called after him from the doorway.
“I ran away from home, something wrong with that?” he called back over one shoulder.
He could hear Payam giggling so at least one person appreciated the joke. Sego no doubt had a dark glare aimed at the back of his head.
Ignoring them both, he headed straight for the queen’s personal garden. It felt very secluded with the shadows of the trees and walls casting long shadows. The moonlight could barely penetrate the darker corners. In fact, if not for the four torches burning near the center, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see much at all.
Tresea had not sat in her usual cushioned place under the trees, but instead paced slowly back and forth, a rolled parchment in her hands. She’d shed the crown, fur mantle, and the elaborate hairstyle she normally wore. In the pale blue gown with her hair tied simply to rest over one shoulder, she look strangely vulnerable. Or maybe the pinched, worried expression on her face made her seem so.
“My Queen.” He gave her a short bow when she whirled about, stopping her pacing abruptly. “You wished
to see me.”
“Yes.” She took in a deep breath and the lines in her face smoothed out into her usual, controlled expression. “King Baros has written me.” She waved the parchment in illustration.
Already? Jahangir must have reported Darius’s arrival on the front lines almost instantly for Baros to get the news that fast. Even then, it would have taken a very determined courier and a string of horses to get a missive here so quickly. Not sure if he wanted to hear the contents, he hesitated before asking, “What did he say?”
“More or less what one would expect.” She started counting things off with her fingers, folding them down as she made each point. “He wants you back because of the crime you committed, I shouldn’t be harboring a criminal, I’ll invite the full wrath of Brindisi if I continue to shelter you, etc. Darius, does he have the necessary manpower to come here as he’s threatened to?”
Ah, that’s what she was worrying about. “No,” he answered immediately. “He has too many other campaigns in motion at this moment. He has, in fact, overextended himself. Even if he wins every battle, it will only free up part of his force. He has to leave at least some troops in place in every nation he’s conquered otherwise they’ll immediately rebel and he’ll have to start all over.”
Her eyes were studying him intently. He felt uneasy under that intense regard. What else did that letter say?
“So you think the letter is just posturing?”
“Yes.” Feeling like she needed more reassurance, he added, “Sending ten thousand troops to your door is possible, but only just. He’s having to borrow a great deal of troops from different nations just to manage that. If he robs any of his other armies of their men to send here, he will lose a great deal of time and effort he’s already invested. Worse, he might never recover if he pulls out now. He can afford to send assassins after me, but a whole army? It’s not possible.”
Kingslayer Page 23
