***
After dinner, Janir and Armandius would normally go up to his study and play a game of chess. Armandius always won indisputably, but Janir still enjoyed trying to defeat the veteran knight. Besides, she was getting better. Just a bit more practice and she was sure she would manage victory eventually.
That would not be happening this evening because they had guests. Instead, Janir found herself in Armandius’ study beside the fireplace, seated on a floor cushion with a pair of deerhounds. Being with the dogs was not a problem itself. What had driven her off the couch was. Rowella still seemed clueless as to Armandius’ rejection of her. Better to be in the company of a four-legged brachet than a two-legged one.
Janir fondled the ears of the nearest hound, Rani. Rani was a seasoned hunting dog and one of many in Armandius’ kennel that hadn’t had a name until Janir came to the castle. Rani yawned and rested his flecked muzzle between his front paws. Even the animals were tiring of their guests.
Velaskas leaned against one side of the fireplace, staring into the flames contemplatively. He had hardly spoken to anyone all evening, Janir was wondering what point there was in him being here at all. Perhaps he simply wanted to make sure no one suspected what Janir was. After keeping her secret for seven years, he was more or less implicit.
Janir often wondered why he had elected not to expose her. She thought it must be a sense of debt to an old friend—he and Armandius had known one another for decades. Why else would he have endured her existence?
Struggling to maintain a gracious outer appearance, Armandius continued to tolerate their guests. Duke Ronan still held that impatient air. Words drizzled into silence, or rather, everyone else’s words fell to silence. Rowella was perfectly happy to keep talking on her own.
“Would anyone like some wine?” Armandius cast a longing gaze in the direction of the cabinets.
“That would be lovely,” Rowella trilled.
“Yes,” Duke Ronan blandly added.
“And I think I will be needing some,” Armandius muttered to himself.
“Call the servants to get it,” Rowella suggested.
“No,” Armandius protested. “I can manage myself.” He leapt up from his seat as if it were on fire, exploiting the opportunity to put space between them.
“Well, are you not sweet,” she chirped.
Briefly locking stares with Janir, Armandius rolled his eyes dramatically and she had to stifle a giggle. He probably had the worst of it—at least she didn’t have to personally contend with that woman’s ill contrived efforts at husband hunting.
Armandius made his way to the wine cabinet across the room. Once his back was turned, Duke Ronan seemed to spring to life. The duke stopped staring off into space and snapped around to Armandius.
Janir’s back straightened. It felt wrong.
Rowella was talking about something insipid. Ronan moved to follow Armandius. Janir clambered to her feet. A niggling voice in the back of her skull said something was amiss.
From behind Armandius, Ronan drew a gleaming dagger from the folds of his doublet. The blade flashed in the firelight as it rose above his head.
Armandius’ back was turned. Velaskas didn’t see.
“No!” Janir screamed.
That distracted the duke from plunging the dagger into Armandius’ back just long enough for Janir to fling herself at Ronan. What she planned to do, she couldn’t be sure. She lunged for the duke’s upraised hand, foolishly trying to wrest the blade from his fist. Instead of using the dagger on Janir, Ronan struck her with the back of his hand and made a lunge to stab Armandius.
Something shook Janir from the inside. A bright green light went over her eyes and her efforts to fight it were useless. A…force commandeered her actions. She was no longer in control.
Janir felt anger—blinding and powerful such as she’d never felt before, untainted and uncontrollable ire. Letting out a mad cry, she sprang at Duke Ronan with an inhuman fury.
Snatching his head with both hands, she snapped his head to one side. She felt his spine twist and crack like dried twigs. The dagger fell to the ground and his limp body followed.
The Key of Amatahns Page 6
