Tolk moved, putting himself in front of Darius so quickly that it made his nerves jump a little. Darius reached for the sword hilt above his shoulder and then paused, reconsidering. The hallway they stood in didn’t have much width to it. If he drew, he wouldn’t have any real room to wield it in. I really should start carrying a dagger with me for situations like this. Not that he planned to have thugs attack him in the palace, exactly….
The thugs had clearly done this before as one of them stepped back automatically to let the other two surge forward. Tolk stood his ground, back leg sliding into position so that he had a wider stance. A part of Darius’s mind evaluated the motion and admired the precision in which Tolk moved. The perfect economy of movement was almost beautiful to watch.
Thug One darted forward, knife held at the ready, other arm up as a guard. He didn’t get a chance to move before Tolk efficiently hit him in the sternum and then again on his temple as he buckled over his stomach. The man was still grunting with pain and half-way toward the floor when Tolk spun on his toes and hit the other thug. Thug Two got the knife into motion before Tolk hit his arm near the shoulder, knocking the knife away from both of them, and then hitting him directly in the neck.
Gasping, choking for breath, Thug Two wheeled backwards and hit the wall with a loud thud before sliding down it.
Thug Three, after seeing what had been done to his compatriots, clearly had second thoughts about the venture. With wide eyes, he took a hesitant step back.
Tolk met his eyes with a cold smile. He swept his back leg into position again, settling into that wide stance, arms up in guard. His leading arm gave a little wave, beckoning the man forward in a taunting manner. “Come play,” Tolk murmured, the promise of death in his tone.
With a minute shake of the head, Thug Three gulped, glanced at his fallen comrades, and then turned tail and disappeared at a run.
With a disappointed sigh, Tolk relaxed from his stance. “They never accept invitation to play,” he said in disappointment.
Darius smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, my friend. I’ll play with you later.”
Tolk put a hand over his heart and gave his raj a heartfelt smile. “You are kind, Raj.”
Chuckling, he looked at the two lying unconscious on the floor. “But this is rather unexpected. Maybe my enemies at court are more upset than Sego realized.”
“Maybe,” Tolk agreed, brows drawn together. He didn’t seem entirely convinced. “But it seems strange to see them now. Why not earlier?”
“Revenge for me defeating what’s-his-name at dinner the other night?” Darius suggested, not entirely convinced himself. He didn’t think those men had the spine to hire assassins to attack him in broad daylight. And in the palace, no less. When Tresea heard about this, she’d descend like the Goddess of War.
“Maybe,” Tolk repeated, still a little doubtful.
Sighing, Darius rubbed at his forehead. “We can ask them when they wake up. For now, let’s call the Guard and let them deal with this.”
~~~
“You were attacked in the palace?!” Sego demanded incredulously.
“You know, that’s almost verbatim what the queen said,” Darius remarked off-handly.
“General,” he sighed in exasperation.
Darius collapsed onto the bench in the main room of his suite, taking a second to breathe. It felt good to be horizontal, too, after two hours of running around reporting to people what had happened and repeating the story dozens of times over. “I’m fine,” he offered as he let his eyes close. “Tolk very efficiently dealt with them. I didn’t even have to intervene.”
“Just thugs,” Tolk offered from his position against the wall. “Not skilled at all.”
“Yes, that makes everything entirely better,” Sego snapped, out of sorts and irritable. Really, the way the man carried on, one would think he had been the one attacked. “Who did this?”
“They haven’t woken up yet.” Darius tried not to smile, as Sego wouldn’t appreciate the humor, but he found it funny in a darkly humorous way. “Apparently, when Tolk knocks someone down, they stay down.”
Sego let out a growl, sounding like a wounded tiger. “So we don’t know who’s behind this yet. Did you report it?”
“Did report to guard and queen,” Tolk assured him.
“Queen Tresea is on a warpath.” Darius didn’t mean to smile when he said that but the memory of Tresea’s expression had been priceless as she tore into the Captain of the Guard. She had not been happy that three street thugs had gotten into the palace interior without raising any alarms. She especially didn’t like it that they’d gone after her lead general. Heads would roll before she’d be satisfied.
“I’ll join her shortly,” Sego promised ominously. “From now on, you don’t go anywhere alone, not even to see Raja Amalah.”
At that, Darius cracked open an eye to look at him. “Might I remind you that I’ve been fighting for fifteen years and technically I don’t need a bodyguard?” Although he would start carrying a dagger so that he’d be better prepared for the next close-quarters fight.
Sego gave him a look that he hadn’t seen in years. In fact, the last time he’d seen that particular expression, he’d said something stupid to his mother. She hadn’t said anything back, just looked at him. He had, wisely, quickly found something else to do out of her sight.
Darius rolled his eyes and asked Shaa silently what he did to deserve having such a nagging worry-wart for a steward. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep a bodyguard with me.”
“Thank you.” Turning to the bodyguard still leaning against the wall, Sego ordered, “Remind him if he forgets that promise and make sure that Bohme knows to stick with him as well. Until I have this figured out, I don’t want anyone going around alone, for that matter. They might try to use one of us against our raj.”
“Good thought, sir,” Tolk agreed with a frown. “We’ll keep an eye out for everyone.”
Sego let out a breath. “Good.”
“Now, with that settled, I still need to get to the library and gather up a few resources.” Largely the annual reports of the queen’s personal storage. He had to know how much oil they had on hand and how much he could afford to order before it looked suspicious. “Tolk, let’s go.”
The attack on Darius was, of course, the main topic at the formal dinner that night. Dozens of people that he barely knew approached him to get a more accurate account of what had happened. Darius repeated himself over and over until he could tell the story by rote and without any thought on his part.
Dinner brought a small reprieve as he could only talk to the people on either side of him but as soon as it ended, they swarmed him again.
Being in such tight quarters with so many people put Bohme on edge. He had not been happy to hear that his master had been attacked while he slept. He stuck closer to Darius than his own shadow could have and glared at anyone that got too close. Darius would have said something to him, but really, Bohme’s glares gave him breathing room.
As Darius told the story once again, a pained smile on his face, he had to wonder why everyone had latched onto this event. Because it had happened in the palace interior and they were afraid of being attacked next? Because it had become the most scandalous event after Raja Betha had had an affair with her brother-in-law last week? Some mix of the two?
Gossip was the main source of entertainment in a formal court. He knew that. (Well, that and political back-biting.) But he hoped to heaven that he never fell to the point that he would latch onto events like this. I will never retire, he swore to himself right then and there. I will die of boredom if I do.
“General!”
Amalah? He turned instinctively, searching for her in the crowd. She had to fight the press around him to get through. He reached out, grasping her hand, and pulled her closer. The crowd, no doubt thinking that they would get a show of some sort, amiably drew back a pace to give her room to approach.
Darius eyed them—not a familiar face in the lot—with a sort of frustrated resignation. So, the court still believed them to be lovers, apparently.
“General, you are well?” Amalah’s eyes were searching him head to toe, looking for any signs of injury.
“I am,” he assured her, the first genuine response he’d had all evening. “In fact, I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself. My bodyguard took them down quite efficiently.”
She put a hand to her heart and breathed out in relief. “I am glad to hear it. Do you know who was behind it?”
“Not as yet.” He was beginning to think the two thugs were feigning sleep just to avoid being interrogated. Either that, or Tolk had put them in a permanent sleep. “But I’m sure that we’ll figure it out soon,” he assured her. “Queen Tresea will not let it rest otherwise. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her livid before.”
“It’s rare,” she responded with a grimace. “And scary when she is.”
Truly. He’d almost felt like defending himself when speaking with Tresea earlier and he knew full well she hadn’t been mad at him.
“Amalah!” a deep voice called impatiently from nearby. “Where did you go?”
Darius turned to see who hailed her. Whoever the man was, he had to be close enough to her to drop all honorifics. What approached from the crowd was a bear of a man, stocky and very casually dressed for such a formal occasion. Darius couldn’t put his finger on it, but he almost instantly disliked the man. His clothes were that of the latest style, but he wore them in disarray, with nothing properly fastened. Dark hair cut short, but a half-shadow on his chin as if he hadn’t thought to shave. In this world where appearance mattered, he did not give a good impression.
He ignored Darius outright and went straight to Amalah, almost roughly grabbing her by the arm. “Where are you disappearing off to when my back is turned, eh?”
Darius clenched his jaw to keep from telling the man off. It didn’t look like the grip hurt her, but he didn’t like the rough way this man was handling her. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he said quietly.
The man stopped dead and eyed him from head to toe before speaking. “I’m Merikh Grygotis, Raj of Ardakan. I am Amalah’s betrothed.”
Darius’s heart went cold. So she was betrothed. And to this beast of a man, no less. He stole a glance at her. Amalah wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, her gaze steadfastly pointing at the floor, her face expressionless.
“You must be that Brindisi General,” Grygotis observed tactlessly.
He knew better than to get riled up at such a provocation. He stared Grygotis down like a bumbling greenhorn, eyebrow cocked an nth degree, making the other man flinch back instinctively. “I am Darius Bresalier, Lead General of Niotan, yes. I do not believe you were in court on the day of my Oath-giving.”
Grygotis heard the challenge in his words and almost snarled out a response. “I was at my estate that day. Pity I wasn’t there.”
My me my, what a bad temper you have. Especially for a man that grew up in court politics like you have, you should have been able to respond better than that. Darius could play him like a wind flute without trying at this rate. But he saw from the corner of his eye that Amalah had recoiled from this scene. She didn’t like it, and he didn’t blame her. In an effort to draw her back out of her shell, he smoothed out his voice and directed his next words to her. “Raja Amalah, I hear that you are teaching the children here in the palace how to read and do arithmetic.” A venture that Darius wholeheartedly approved of and he smiled at her to show it.
She couldn’t quite seem to meet his eyes and her cheeks were pink as she responded. “Yes, I find it quite enjoyable. They’re very eager to learn.”
“Teaching street rats and the classless to read?” Grygotis gave her a disgusted look. “I can’t believe you’re wasting your time like that. You’ll not be doing that again.”
Amalah stiffened and shot him a glower but didn’t defy him.
Darius tensed as well, staring at the man incredulously. Waste of time? Educating anyone was never a waste of time. “I’m afraid I must disagree with you, Raj.”
Grygotis didn’t quite sneer, but his eyes were narrowed into slits. “Oh?”
“One of my commanders hailed from the streets. He’s one of the most brilliant strategists that I’ve had the privilege to serve with. Without him, your country might well have been conquered.” Darius sharpened his tone. “You cannot make any judgments about a man’s potential based upon his birth.”
He gave a dismissive snort. “Well of course you would say that. You’re a merchant’s son.”
“I believe there’s quite a few people in this room alone that would agree with me,” Darius retorted mildly, “because I am a merchant’s son.”
“I would be one of them.” Amalah met her fiance’s eyes steadily, cheeks hot with anger. “He was chosen as the lead general for this country for a reason. Where would we be, if no one in the world would have been willing to educate him fifteen years ago?”
Grygotis didn’t like her defense, not one bit. He stared at her with open anger in his eyes, jaw working.
Darius didn’t know what his reaction would have been if they weren’t at formal court, but he knew that it had only been delayed. Later, out of sight of everyone else, Amalah would likely pay for her defense of him. The thought made his heart sick.
“Darius!” Tailli appeared from the crowd and elbowed her way to his side. “There you are.” She gave him a practiced, polished smile. “I am sorry to steal you away, but would you come and assure my mother that you are well? She cannot move freely today because of a sprained ankle.”
He probably needed to extract himself from this situation soon to avoid making Amalah’s situation any worse. But he hated to abandon her with Grygotis. I can’t do anything about that, she’s betrothed to him after all. To Tailli he gave a short bow and a smile. “Of course. Raja Amalah, if you would excuse me?”
Amalah smiled and waved him on.
Pointedly ignoring Grygotis—the man fumed at the insult—he offered his arm to Tailli and escorted her away from the avidly listening crowd.
When they were far enough away, Tailli leaned up to murmur in his ear, “She does want to see you, but I was really trying to get you away from Grygotis before you came to blows.”
Wise woman to read the situation as she did. He very nearly had. “Was I that obvious?”
“No. Well, only to someone who knows how to read you. The last time I saw that smile on your face, you were reaming my father for abandoning his family near the front lines.”
Ah. Well, that was good. “Why is Amalah betrothed to that cocked fool?”
“Her dowry is a rich stretch of land that is adjacent to Grygotis’s estate,” she answered on a sigh. “Their betrothal was set almost before she was born. Poor girl. We all feel sorry for her.”
In that case, he hoped that Grygotis met with a fatal accident. Soon.
~~~
Darius came back to his suite in a foul mood. Half-formed ideas of helping along Grygotis’s demise played through his head as he shed the formal uniform. He had half a mind to go to the baths and soak there for a while, but…no. Despite the mid-noon nap he had, he felt strangely tired. He’d go in the morning. Tonight, he needed proper sleep.
The main door opened and closed. “General?”
Sego? Now what? The man couldn’t possibly need anything from him at this ungodly hour. It had to be close to midnight by now. Unless… Stepping out of the bedroom, he said, “Here.”
Sego greeted him with a tired nod. “The thugs woke up an hour ago.”
Oh, so Tolk hadn’t managed to kill them after all. “And?”
“The Captain of the Guard himself interrogated them. He didn’t get much.” Sego grimaced. “And believe me, with the methods he was using, he should have. If they actually knew anything.”
Yes, this was the perfect ending for a thoroughly
rotten day. Somehow, he just knew they wouldn’t be able to find out anything.
“The investigation has hit a dead end.” Sego threw the cane carelessly onto the bench as he plopped down on it. He looked beyond tired as he ran a hand roughly over his hair. “They don’t know who hired them. Just an anonymous note with your name and description, instructions on how to get in, and the money to pay them with.”
Darius nodded, not surprised.
“Those spineless twerps have more spine than I gave them credit for.”
He hesitated before speaking but he felt he was right. “I don’t think this attack was for political reasons.”
Sego gave him a funny look. “Then why?”
“I think it was personal.” He hesitated again before continuing. “I think Merikh Grygotis sent them after me.”
Both of Sego’s eyebrows rose. “Jealousy over how close you are with his betrothed?”
“Possibly. Possibly as revenge for the rumors spreading around court about the two of us.” He shrugged, silently saying he wasn’t sure. “I don’t have any concrete evidence to give you, it’s just a hunch. The way that he looked at me when we were first introduced made me think he was surprised to see me unharmed.”
Sego mulled that over for several minutes. “It fits what I’ve seen of the man’s character. He’s petty enough to hire thugs over something like that.”
Yes, he’d had the same impression. “Well, either way, we can’t prove it.” Darius relaxed back into his seat with a resigned sigh. “We’ll just have to go on and keep an eye over our shoulders until everything dies down.”
The library in the Niotan Palace had the most impressive collection of books, charts and scrolls that he had ever seen bar the one in the Brindisi Palace. He liked the building, the way it had been designed, and the quietness of it that inclined a man to think before acting. That was why he looked for excuses to come here as much as he could.
He took in a deep lungful of air as he stepped through the doorway. The smell of leather, parchment and cool air swept over him. Ahhhh. How peaceful. Maybe it would take longer for him to fetch what he needed today.
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