Darian gave her a cheeky salute, followed by a more subdued bow. “I don’t think you will ever understand what a gift it is you have given me, my dear.” He smiled, although there was a trace of pity in his eyes. “Peace of mind is a wondrous thing.”
“Do not thank me yet, dear uncle.” Jax laughed. “I may turn out to be your worst nightmare, a tyrannical overlord.”
Darian did not join in her laughter, and it died quickly on her lips.
His brown eyes shimmered. “You are the beacon we all yearn to follow. You are the light that brightens our hope for a better future. By the grace of the Virtues, you will not fail us, Duchess.”
She faltered under his intense gaze, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, embarrassed by his devotion.
Darian stepped forward and kissed her on both cheeks before giving her a bone-crushing hug. She could barely believe they’d been strangers little more than a year ago. So much had changed…
“Now, I’ve kept you long enough.” Darian released her. “Perry will probably have my head for this little stunt.” He shuddered in mock apprehension.
“Never fear. Cetachi is now under my domain. My husband wouldn’t think about harming one of my citizens,” she replied with a knowing wink.
Ziri materialized at Jax’s side, startling both her and Darian. “I take it your business here has concluded, Duquessa?”
Jax held her palm to Darian’s scruffy cheek one final time, bidding him a silent, tender farewell.
To Ziri, she replied, “Yes, Spymaster. I am needed elsewhere.”
Chapter Three
“We will be together soon, my love.”
Perry’s parting words still haunted Jax as the Saphire delegation rode south. It had been a week since they had gone their separate ways at the Pettraudian border. The phantom memory of touching his feverish skin as they said their goodbyes still made her fingers throb. Since his departure, Perry had only sent one clipped message by raven, reporting that his delegation had arrived safely at his ancestral home. No word about how his family was doing in the wake of Ivan’s death or how the duchy had fared. Just a simple I have arrived. The lack of sensitivity had brought confused tears to her eyes at the time. Didn’t he know she needed more than a few simple words to be reassured he was all right?
Now, as her horse cantered across the Hestian countryside, guilt chipped away at her, wishing she could believe Perry bore her no ill will for not attending his brother’s burial. No matter how many times she replayed their private, passionate goodbye in her head, a veil of darkness hung over the memory, like a threat.
“Duquessa, might I take the reins for a bit?”
Ziri’s hum of a question broke into her tumultuous thoughts. Focusing on the task at hand, Jax glanced to her right side, where Ziri rode atop a gray mare, loping in step with Mortimer. Remembering the order she had given the knight, Jax conceded control of her mount without putting up a fight.
In less than a minute, Ziri had her own horse tethered to Mortimer’s saddle and had taken up the black stallion’s reins. With her arms tight around Ziri’s athletic waist, Jax was able to rest her eyes for a time. As much as they annoyed her, she was becoming begrudgingly used to the frequent headaches that plagued her daily, and often didn’t notice their impending arrival until it was too late. A light throbbing pulsed against her temple, but with rest, it began to subside as they continued riding south. It was as if Ziri had known the perfect moment to rescue her charge before a full-blown migraine assailed Jax.
“Your Grace!”
Unsure of how much time had passed, Jax bolted awake, thankful she still reflexively clung to Ziri. Swiveling her head around, she spotted George weaving through the ranks of the Ducal Guard, a wary expression plastered to his face.
“Your Grace, a missive has arrived from Hestian capital.” In the presence of nearly a hundred soldiers, George maintained his professional demeanor.
Ziri halted Mortimer’s steady gait, allowing George to hand the tightly bound letter to Jax. Momentarily releasing the spymaster from her grip, Jax unrolled the scroll and began to read.
Duchess Xavier of Saphire,
After reviewing your latest correspondence, it is clear it would be beneficial for all parties if we were to meet face-to-face. However, we reject the need to meet on neutral ground. With the loss of our Duke, I am the steward of Hestes. I have always valued Saphire as one of our nation’s most precious and respected allies. The Hestian royal court would be honored to host your delegation at the palace. I understand you ride with a large battalion of the Saphire Ducal Guard. We would be more than happy to accommodate them, as well.
Again, I must stress that I, and the entire council of courtiers, have always valued your friendship with our nation, and hope our late Duke has not done anything to irrevocably damage our special bond.
Virtues bless you,
High Courtier Dellathorne
“Interesting reading?” George asked after she’d read the note through twice.
Jax bit her lower lip. “Interesting reading, indeed. Without mentioning it directly, High Courtier Dellathorne makes it quite clear that she and the rest of Florian’s council advised against his siding with the Coalition of Right.” She handed the parchment to George so that he could read it for himself.
George frowned as his chocolate eyes darted across the paper. “Do you think she suspects the real reason behind your visit?” he asked, referring to the Code of Succession.
“From what little I know of her, High Courtier Dellathorne is a smart woman,” Jax replied. “She obviously understands something is amiss, given her own sovereign is dead and here I am, demanding an audience with her.”
“So, you are inclined to think this is a sincere letter of welcome…” George dangled the parchment suggestively before handing it back to Jax, “…and not the makings of a trap?”
“Yes, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to have everyone on alert.” A smirk tickled the corners of Jax’s lips.
George snorted agreement. “If we keep a strong pace, we should be in the capital before sundown.”
Jax shaded her eyes against the sinking sun. “Then let us make haste.”
‡
Hours later, Jax tightened her grip on Mortimer’s reins as the Hestian capital of Lamartre loomed before her delegation. The rosy hues of the approaching sunset bathed the sturdy barrier that encompassed the city, blocking any view of the other side. Even the heart of the Hestian throne, the grand Lamartre Castle, was hidden from sight, save for the top of one spiraling tower.
Back atop her gray mare beside Jax, Ziri’s mouth formed a thin line. “There are no guards stationed along the ramparts.”
Mortimer dug a hoof restlessly into the ground, his body shuddering underneath Jax’s legs. She leaned forward to reach the underside of his long, graceful neck. As she patted him reassuringly, Jax’s gaze trailed the length of the stone border surrounding the city. Where were the city’s defenses? It was an odd sight to behold.
“Perhaps High Courtier Dellathorne withdrew them in order to make us feel welcome?” There was little confidence behind Jax’s guess.
The song of a trumpet cut through the still air, the staccato blast rolling over the surrounding landscape.
On her other side, George’s right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “The gate to the city is opening. Be on alert.” He turned his attention to Ziri, looking right past Jax as if she were not there. “You have your orders.”
Jax caught the slight nod Ziri issued in response, wondering what in the Virtues that exchange had been about. What orders had George given Ziri? As the Saphire spymaster, she reported directly to Jax, not to the Captain of the Ducal Guard.
Before she could question either of them, George’s mount lurched forward as he led the first wave of soldiers toward the parting iron gates. The sharp glare of the setting sun prevented Jax from being able to discern what lay on the other side. All she could do was urge Mortimer forward, ho
ping that High Courtier Dellathorne was a woman of honor.
Ziri kept close to Jax as they made their way toward the city entrance, following the well-trodden road down to the gates. George had requested Jax stay at the back of the convoy, allowing her soldiers to fill the city ahead of her and scout the land. While she knew the optics looked better if she were seen leading her men, she understood the grave security concerns festering in George’s mind.
As Mortimer crossed the imposing threshold of the keep, it became clear why there were no soldiers stationed at their posts along the ramparts. It appeared that every citizen of Lamartre, including the Hestian Ducal Guard, lined the crowded main street of the city. What took Jax’s breath away was that every Hestian knelt before her delegation, heads bowed.
“Goodness,” Ziri mused with a coy grin, “quite the welcoming reception, indeed.”
A reverent silence followed them the entire journey to the castle, situated in the heart of Lamartre. Jax’s own soldiers began peeling off, forming a protective path for her to travel during the last few hundred feet of her route. George already stood at the end of the procession, next to a strikingly tall, robed figure.
With Ziri’s assistance, Jax gracefully dismounted Mortimer, covertly checking that her golden crown sat secured amongst her caramel tresses. She had done everything within her skill set to ensure she looked like a serene, ethereal Duchess, and not a rumpled traveler who had just ridden horseback across half the realm.
Gliding the last remaining steps of the soldier-lined pathway, Jax smiled demurely at the robed figure.
“Greetings, Duchess Xavier,” a deep, alto voice murmured. “I bid you welcome to Hestes.”
“Thank you, High Courtier.” Jax took in the heavy medallion that hung from the robed woman’s neck, indicating her title, and dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “I am honored by this warm reception.”
High Courtier Dellathorne pushed back the hood of her short-sleeved courtier robes, revealing large, bright amber eyes. Spirals of auburn hair framed her pretty, ageless face. “I am the one who is honored by your presence, Your Grace. Please,” she said, ushering Jax’s attention to the lofty castle behind them, “may I take you inside for some refreshments? I am sure your journey has left you needing a bit of respite.”
Jax’s mouth watered at the mere mention of something other than the dried fruits she’d been living on during their trek, but she glanced at George for approval. She wanted his assessment of the situation.
His chocolate gaze darted around the courtyard, traveling the length of his men and the people of Lamartre. Whether by calculating design or a blatant oversight, the High Courtier had effectively allowed the Saphirian Ducal Guard to come between her and all her Hestian soldiers. An act of trust, if Jax were to guess.
George answered her with a solemn nod, and Jax’s grin widened as she faced the High Courtier. “Refreshments would be a welcomed treat.”
Dellathorne curtsied at the waist before turning on a heel. “Once Your Grace has had something to eat,” she said over her shoulder, “you are welcome to retire for the evening. I’ve had our finest apartment made up for you.”
Jax quickly fell into step with Dellathorne. “While the opportunity to rest would be most appreciated, I’m afraid I have urgent matters of state that need to be addressed, High Courtier. But first, I must offer my sympathies in person about your late Duke.”
Jax’s sharp eyes gaze did not miss the slight stumble in the High Courtier’s gait. “Your sympathy is humbling, Your Grace,” she replied, her voice shaky. But not with grief…it was more like irritation.
What an odd reception, indeed.
As if realizing that she had left Jax unsettled, Dellathorne continued, “It was kind of you to send his body home for a proper burial, Your Grace. The people of Hestes are grateful you had the grace to show the Duke such mercy.”
Jax swallowed her shock at the woman’s hard tone. Clearly, it was a mercy you would not have bestowed yourself, High Courtier.
Jax, followed by George, Ziri, and half a dozen members of the Ducal Guard, walked in line as they approached the arched foyer of the Hestian palace. George had obviously commanded the remainder of the guards to stand watch outside the castle. While it was one of the smaller royal structures in the realm, its architecture was still awe-inspiring. It had been some time since Jax had visited Duke Florian in his home, but the castle’s beauty had been perfectly cemented into her memory.
Inside the granite walls of the foyer, Dellathorne led them down a hallway toward a set of glass double doors in the castle’s southern wing. “I predicted you might want to jump right into the thick of things, Your Grace.” There was no trace of victory in her remark. “I had the conservatory set up in preparation for your visit. You’ll find it private and comfortable enough for us to discuss these matters of state.”
The glass panes swept open in invitation as the group entered the spacious, circular room that overlooked the palace gardens. Hestes, being one of the realm’s southern provinces, had escaped winter’s frosty clutches. Lush green leaves and colorful flowers were on full display as Jax surveyed the courtyard beyond through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Beside her, George motioned for the remaining Ducal Guard to take up watch out in the hall. During their trek through the castle, they’d come across no other Hestian sentries, but George was clearly not about to let his guard down.
“Please, Your Grace,” Dellathorne said, motioning to a highbacked chair next to a tea table, “be seated.”
Jax sank into the plush cushions, suppressing a blissful moan as the fluffy fabric cradled her sore limbs. Before her, the tea table was piled high with a myriad of savory and sweet treats. Her stomach growled in anticipation…but she would wait until the High Courtier sampled the confections herself before trying one. In these times of upheaval and war, one never knew if an inviting delicacy might turn out to be laced with a deadly poison.
Dellathorne’s lips twitched as her amber gaze lingered on the Duchess. “Forgive me, Your Grace.” She selected a slice of chocolate crème cake and took an elaborate bite as if she had guessed what Jax had been thinking. “Would you like me to send someone up from the kitchens to sample each item before you begin?”
Jax’s hunger didn’t have the patience for that. Instead, she opted for a raspberry custard tart. As a satisfying bite tingled her taste buds, her body relaxed. “My compliments to the chef, High Courtier.”
Dellathorne bowed her head before seizing a nearby teapot and pouring Jax a cup of hot tea. “May I offer your guardsmen a drink?” She lifted an eyebrow at George and Ziri, who stood on either side of Jax’s chair.
“Please,” Jax answered on their behalf.
After teacups had been doled out and plates of yummy-looking goodies had been filled, Dellathorne perched on a chair opposite Jax, her expression a mixture of unease and hopefulness. “Now that everyone is watered and fed, Your Grace, might you share what news you can of the north?”
Jax smiled, pleased this woman wasn’t beating around the bush. So many courtiers had been trained to talk in circles; clearly, High Courtier Dellathorne wanted to get right down to business.
She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the missive the High Courtier had sent inviting them to the palace. “I’m more inclined to ask you to share what you know, just so that I don’t repeat myself.”
Dellathorne’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Well, I’m sure you’ve learned by now that Duke Hestes made the decision to side with Qylvard Savant and his Coalition of Right in the weeks that led up to the War Council.”
“Indeed, I have.” Jax kept her tone and expression neutral. She had not informed the Hestian court that Florian had lost his life because of the sinister scheme. She had only written the Duke had simply been a victim of Savant’s declaration of war against her allies.
“Despite our protests that the Coalition had no hope of standing against Saphire and her allies,” Dellathorne continu
ed, “Duke Hestes ignored his advisors’ pleas. Duke Savant made him an offer he apparently did not have the will to refuse.”
A grim smile curled on Jax’s lips at the blatant disdain in the High Courtier’s voice. Duke Florian Hestes had been lured to Duke Savant’s side with the promise of gaining another duchy through the Code of Succession. “Are you aware of the bargaining chip Qylvard used to secure Florian’s allegiance?”
A glimmer of mischievousness flickered in the High Courtier’s amber gaze. “I am, Your Grace. Although I did not come across this information through Hestian channels.”
The woman’s self-assured confidence made Jax shift uncomfortably in her seat. What exactly was going on here? Her narrowed eyes assessed the High Courtier more closely.
“Are you aware of my heritage, Your Grace?” Dellathorne inquired.
The question, as strange as it was blunt, straightened Jax’s spine. There was little deference in Dellathorne’s intrigued stare, and a sudden chill seemed to descend on the conservatory.
George and Ziri both visibly stiffened beside Jax, sensing the shift in Dellathorne’s attitude.
Not wanting to seem uninformed, Jax summoned a vague response. “I know you have not been at Florian’s side for very long.”
“That’s right,” Dellathorne said with a nod of concession. “It took Duke Hestes quite a while to permanently fill the position after High Courtier Worlovian retired four years ago. So, it was utterly tragic when my previous successor perished during the same storm that claimed the lives of Florian’s children.”
Jax shivered at the mention of the horrific event.
“The deaths of his heirs left the Duke understandably broken. Filling the once-again vacant post of High Courtier was not atop his list of priorities at the time.” Dellathorne paused. “So, he looked to his colleagues for guidance.”
Harrowed Heir Page 4
