Khalshir (Kingmakers Book 1)

by Jaye McKenna

  “Rio is already suspicious. You should have seen him watching me last week, trying to work out what was wrong. If I do the same thing again, he might tell Father, and then where will we be?”

  “A lot better off than we will be if you end up in a whimpering puddle. If asked, you can always say you’ve been taking a sleeping draught.”

  “I tried that. I don’t think Rio believed me.” Dani took the bottle and cup from Pen and poured half of the dose back.

  Pen’s brows drew together. “Better that your father thinks you’ve resorted to drugs than he discovers the truth. Taking something to get you through your grief is far less likely to get you killed.”

  “Enough. I’ve made my decision.” Dani downed the anzaria and handed the bottle back to Pen. “Even if it doesn’t block out everything, I can manage. Call it a calculated risk. I can’t be so impaired if I’m to accompany Father to the city to meet with his associates.”

  “Very good, sir.” Pen’s dubious expression belied his words, but he said no more about it. He slipped the bottle back into the inner pocket of his jacket and turned his attention to the racks of clothing lining the walls. “The green, sir? It does set off your hair nicely.”

  Scowling, Dani nodded. “I suppose if I’m going courting, we do want to make a good impression.”

  “That we do, sir. That we do.”

  * * *

  Dani sat stiffly on a dainty chair in the sitting room of the Finnia townhouse. Across from him, Lady Eslian beamed at him as she held out a tray of pastries shaped like — of all things — a pair of linked wedding bracelets. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and wondered if Rio, who was hovering somewhere behind him, had orders to report every detail of the encounter back to his father.

  “Won’t you have a pastry, Danakho?” The lady’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. “Cook made these especially for us.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Dani said as politely as he could, “but I fear I must decline. I find I don’t tolerate sweets very well these days.” An understatement; although his appetite had improved to the point where he was no longer actually losing weight, it hadn’t improved enough, and the half dose of anzaria he’d taken wasn’t helping matters. Although he wasn’t feeling quite as hazy as he had at the tailor’s, he was still finding it difficult to concentrate.

  And Pen, damn him, had been right — it wasn’t enough to shut out the noise in his head. Oh, it cut out the worst of it, but there was plenty still leaking through. It was bearable, but only just, and he already had a splitting headache.

  As Dani sipped his tea, the lady’s perfectly manicured hands fluttered near her bejeweled throat. “Oh, dear, you don’t think you’re coming down with that awful summer fever that’s been going around? I had it two weeks ago, and it was positively dreadful. I could scarcely move from my bed.”

  “No, I… I don’t think I’m feverish,” Dani said quickly. The tea wasn’t sitting well at all. He set the cup down on a side table with spindly legs, making certain to be careful for fear the delicate piece of furniture might collapse under the weight of the cup and saucer. “Just overtired. I’ve been working very hard to learn how to help my father run the business.”

  “Of course you have.” Her voice took on a soothing tone. “Haiden was so capable. It must be a terrible burden to have to take his place when you’ve no practical experience.”

  “It is certainly a challenge,” Dani admitted. “I never realized quite how much there was to learn. Would you believe I’m spending every morning at lessons with a tutor? I feel like I’m thirteen again.”

  Lady Eslian giggled. “Oh, no, really? What a dreadful bore! What sorts of things do you have to learn?”

  “Oh, business law, economics, accounting, languages.” Dani waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”

  “And no music lessons?” She wrinkled her nose. “But then, you’re so talented, you’re probably well past needing lessons, aren’t you? I heard you playing the piano at Lady Somerin’s midwinter ball, and you were simply divine.”

  The midwinter ball. Dani remembered it clearly, sitting at the piano, himself playing and Haiden sitting next to him on the bench, both of them singing…

  A lump rose in Dani’s throat. “Well, that was before Haiden…” He trailed off as the lady brought a hand to her mouth, apparently only just realizing she’d brought up a sensitive subject. “There’s… I’ve no time for that sort of thing now. I’ve a business to learn how to run.”

  An awkward silence followed, which was broken by the sound of Lady Eslian clapping her hands as if she’d just had a wonderful idea. “Oh, but you must play something for me!” She turned to the servant standing next to the door. “Jemron, fetch my eulalia, would you, please?”

  The door closed quietly behind the man, and Lady Eslian turned wide blue eyes upon Dani. “I do hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course I don’t mind,” Dani said kindly. In fact, he’d welcome the opportunity to escape the need to fill the awkward silences with inane conversation. Assuming the anzaria hadn’t dulled him to the point where he’d be unable to make his fingers work. And assuming his headache didn’t get any worse.

  When the lady’s manservant brought the instrument, Dani tuned it and began to play. He managed to get through only two short tunes before the noise and the pain in his head became unbearable. He set the eulalia down with exaggerated care as he struggled to remain upright in his seat.

  “Oh, my, are you all right, Danakho?” Lady Eslian got quickly to her feet and fluttered about him, wringing her hands helplessly.

  A firm, strong hand came down on his shoulder, holding him steady, and Dani glanced up gratefully at Rio before addressing the lady. “I’m so sorry, but I’m really feeling quite poorly. My head is absolutely pounding. I hate to cut things short after we’ve had such a lovely afternoon, but…”

  “No, no, you mustn’t stay on my account. If it’s that horrible summer fever, you must go straight to bed. Have your man prepare a pot of tea, and take a cup with honey before you sleep.”

  Dani started to get to his feet, but the room spun horribly, and then Rio was there, pulling Dani’s arm across his shoulder and holding him against his side. “I’ve got you, Master Danakho.”

  “Yes, do let your guard help you,” Lady Eslian said. “Send my father a note when you’re feeling better, and I shall ask him to arrange another date. Perhaps a carriage ride would be nice.” She blushed and patted his shoulder, then instructed her manservant to see them out, a great relief, as the rituals of leavetaking could easily take half an hour.

  Dani let Rio support him, but his head hurt far too much for him to take any enjoyment at finding himself being held by his most attractive bodyguard.

  * * *

  Rio helped Danakho into the carriage, where the young man curled up in a ball on the seat, clutching his head. This was far too much like the episode at the tailor’s last week for Rio’s comfort. Rio had just settled himself on the seat opposite and was trying to decide how to word his question so as not to put Danakho on the defensive when the young man let out a pained cry and fell across the seat. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward, and Danakho would have tumbled to the floor if Rio hadn’t darted across to catch him.

  Asleep or unconscious?

  Rio tried to rouse Danakho, who stirred briefly, but fell back asleep again soon after. He positioned his charge across the seat, settling Danakho’s head on his own lap. He told himself it was only to prevent him from being thrown about if the carriage should suddenly stop, and tried not to think about how comfortable Danakho’s warm weight resting against him felt.

  They’d nearly reached the estate when Danakho stirred again and blinked up at Rio. “Rio… what… what happened?”

  Rio started to smile at his sleepy, tousled appearance before he remembered his duty and his concerns. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” he said, managing to kee
p both his expression and his tone neutral. “More sleeping draught, was it?”

  Danakho’s eyes widened, and he struggled to sit. “No! I mean, yes. I mean… Fiora’s mercy, I didn’t make a scene at the Finnia townhouse, did I?”

  “Lady Eslian thought you were coming down with a case of the summer fever. She seemed quite concerned.”

  Danakho had pulled free and seemed steady enough sitting on his own. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window. “We’re almost home.” He sounded surprised.

  “Ai. You slept most of the way. How’s your head?”

  “My head?” Danakho turned from the window to frown at Rio.

  “You said it hurt.”

  “I… Oh. Yes. It’s…” Golden-brown eyes held Rio’s for a few moments, then darted back toward the window. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Rio hesitated for a few moments, then said, “You didn’t look fine when you were curled up on the seat, moaning and whimpering.”

  Danakho’s shoulders tensed, but he kept his face turned toward the window. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.”

  Rio wasn’t so sure about that, but he held his tongue. Coryn had found nothing suspicious in Danakho’s rooms, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hiding something elsewhere on the grounds. Though how he was managing to dose himself when he was under constant surveillance was a mystery. Rio made a mental note to have another word with Coryn, who had specialized in drugs and poisons during his training. If Danakho was using some kind of drug, Coryn could probably tell him what it was just from the list of symptoms Rio had observed.

  When they arrived at the estate, Danakho was still unsteady on his feet. Rio had to help him down from the carriage, though once they started inside, he shrugged off Rio’s attempts to help him. Progress up the stairs was slow. Rio walked right behind him, ready to catch him if he should stumble. They reached Danakho’s suite without incident, and the moment the door closed behind them, Danakho leaned against it, sagging. Pendrin’s pale eyebrows drew together as he looked from Danakho to Rio and back again.

  “Some tea, perhaps?” Rio said, taking hold of Danakho’s arm and guiding him toward his favorite armchair.

  “Of course.” Pen headed off to fetch tea from the kitchen, and while Danakho leaned his head back and closed his eyes, Rio began a methodical search of the room. He was halfway through the sideboard cupboards before Danakho said, “What are you doing?”

  Rio shot him a sour look. “Searching for whatever you won’t tell me you’ve been taking.”

  Danakho’s eyes widened. “I told you I’m not taking anything.” He started to get up, then slumped back in the chair. “Except the sleeping draught,” he added quickly.

  “Mmm. The sleeping draught that gives you headaches and doesn’t work until the middle of the afternoon the day after you’ve taken it.”

  Danakho’s face paled. “You won’t find anything.”

  “Then you won’t object to me searching.” Rio turned back to the cupboard.

  “I object on principle. You’re supposed to be guarding my body, not invading my privacy.”

  “Guarding your body includes protecting you from your own stupidity,” Rio snapped. “If you die — whether by your own hand or someone else’s — I’ve failed my duty.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A duty?” There was a bitter edge to Danakho’s voice. “I thought maybe we were starting to be… to be friends.”

  Rio straightened up slowly and turned to face him, hating the words he had to say, but knowing they were necessary. “I can’t be your friend, Danakho. I’m your bodyguard, and I can’t risk compromising my judgment.”

  Hurt flashed across Danakho’s features, followed quickly by fear. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

  “Tell who what?”

  “My father,” Danakho whispered. “You won’t tell him about what happened today. And… and at the tailor’s. Will you?” Soft, golden eyes shimmering with tears met his in a vulnerable expression that went right to Rio’s heart.

  “My job is to guard you with my life,” Rio explained. “That’s all. As long as your secrets don’t endanger your life, they’re safe with me.”

  Danakho scowled and looked away, but after a moment, turned back and met Rio’s gaze again. “Dani,” he said softly. “You can at least call me Dani. Even if we can’t be friends.”

  He shouldn’t, but… he couldn’t give Danakho — Dani — anything else, so why not this one thing? “All right then,” he said in a rough voice. “Dani.”

  Dani’s lips curved in a smile that transformed his face, and Rio wondered if he’d just made a terrible mistake.

  * * *

  Rio spent the rest of the afternoon in a fruitless but thorough search of Dani’s rooms, while Dani looked on, knowing he’d find nothing. When Rio started for Haiden’s room, Dani said, “Do you have to?”

  “I’m sorry, Danakho — I mean, Dani. Yes, I do.” Rio’s expression softened as he met Dani’s eyes. “I promise I’ll put everything back the way I find it.”

  Dani had to be content with that, and really, what did it matter? Haiden was gone. Keeping his room the way it had been didn’t change anything, and it hadn’t made Dani feel any better.

  He sank back in his chair, still stung by Rio’s refusal to be his friend. Friends had never come easily to Dani. Haiden had always been the outgoing one, with quiet, shy Dani trailing along in his wake. Dani didn’t have any friends who hadn’t been Haiden’s friends first. None of them had contacted him since Haiden’s funeral, which suggested they hadn’t really been his friends at all, but had only put up with him for Haiden’s sake.

  By dinner time, the effects of the anzaria had mostly worn off. Rio had completed his search and found nothing. When Dani followed Pen into the dressing room, Rio took up his usual post by the bedroom door, and Dani finally had a moment to speak with Pen alone. “Rio thinks I’m taking something.”

  “Does he? I’d wondered why he was searching the suite.”

  “I’m glad you had the foresight to keep the anzaria yourself.”

  “I’d never let you take that kind of risk, Master Dani.” Pen turned from his perusal of Dani’s wardrobe, his expression grave. “I promised your mother I’d watch out for you. If anyone found it in your room, you’d be executed.”

  “What?”

  “Quietly!” Pen cautioned.

  “You…” Dani stared at him, struggling to keep his voice down so Rio wouldn’t be alerted. “You never told me just possessing the stuff was a crime!”

  “I was trying to avoid a scene like this one. I would much rather take the risk myself than worry about you being discovered.”

  Dani shook his head, hardly able to speak. “You… but… Pen, you can’t. You could be killed! You must bring it to me immediately! It’s only a matter of time before Rio decides to widen his search. What if he finds it in your room?”

  “I promised your mother,” Pen said stubbornly.

  “She’s not here,” Dani whispered. “But I am. What sort of man am I, to hide behind my servants? No, Pen, you must bring it here. I’ll take responsibility. Fetch it while I’m at dinner and leave it in the drawer here.” He patted the top of the chest of drawers Rio had searched earlier.

  Pen’s mouth tightened. “He’ll find it. And he’ll report it to your father.”

  “I’ll find a safe place for it,” Dani said with far more confidence than he felt. Where would he hide it? It had to be accessible, but not anywhere Rio would think to look. He pasted a hopeful smile on his face. “It won’t be for much longer, anyway. Mother will have reached Altan by now. We could hear from her any day, with her plan to bring me there.”

  “Or we could hear that your uncle deems the political situation too delicate to stand his interference,” Pen said gently. “You must prepare yourself for that possibility, Master Dani.”

  Dani had avoided thinking about that scenario as much as possible, telling himself he’d worry about it if and when
it happened. “I’d rather not think about that. Regardless, I still expect to see the anzaria in this drawer when I return from dinner. That’s an order, Pendrin.”

  The valet nodded once, but he didn’t look happy. He helped Dani dress in disapproving silence.

  Arguing with Pen finished the job the anzaria had done on Dani’s appetite. Dinner was steamed fish drenched in a rich cream sauce, green beans, carrots, and tiny red potatoes boiled in their skins and seasoned with butter and herbs. Dani couldn’t face the fish, but he nibbled at the vegetables while his father tucked in as if it was his last meal.

  “How was your visit with Lady Eslian?” Larrad asked into the silence.

  Dani glanced up at his father, but Larrad’s expression was unreadable. No hint as to what sort of response was expected.

  “It was…” Dani swallowed. “Adequate.” It was impossible to muster any enthusiasm, so he settled for bland indifference and hoped that was acceptable.

  “Excellent.” Larrad speared a piece of fish and chewed on it thoughtfully. “Lord Finnia and I have drawn up a schedule of visits and public appearances. You’ll dance together at some of the midsummer festivities, and we’ll announce the engagement in the fall, to be followed by a midwinter wedding. What do you think?”

  Dani’s fork fell onto his plate with a loud clatter. “Midwinter?”

  “And by next harvest, perhaps I shall be a grandfather.” Larrad’s smile was cold but satisfied.

  Shards of ice sliced through Dani’s middle as the implications of Larrad’s announcement coalesced in his mind. He knew what was expected of him, of course he did, but after spending an afternoon with Lady Eslian, he also knew he couldn’t do it. “Father, I can’t.”

  Larrad froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I can’t.” Dani squirmed in his seat. “I can’t marry her.”

  “Nonsense, of course you can. There’s nothing to it. It’s all being arranged for you. All you have to do is show up. Dress nicely, act charming, and when the time comes, do your husbandly duty. It’s not difficult, Danakho.”