Harrowed Heir

by Sarah E. Burr

  George saluted to the two knights guarding the entrance into the main compound and explained, “We’re heading to the bunkhouse to check on the Ducal Guard.” George had offered Ashcroft the use of his men to conduct a search of the grounds, but the Praesidio had declined.

  “This is Academy business,” Ashcroft had said. “While we value Saphire, please understand that this is my domain to protect and oversee. I cannot in good conscience relinquish her security to others.”

  George understood where the man was coming from. He would be loath to rely on others to protect Saphire if his forces were not up to the challenge. But pride could be a dangerous foe in itself…

  The Praesidio saluted and allowed them both passage out into the brilliant, if fading, afternoon sun. The sun’s rays kissed the tops of the ramparts, casting long shadows across most of the grounds.

  Ziri shook her head in wonder, marveling at the sight. “To think, a week ago we were surrounded by snow.”

  “I do enjoy visits to these coastal duchies this time of year.” George grinned. While Saphire might not be subjected to the harsh winters of the north, they saw their fair share of snowfall during the winter months.

  “I have not had the pleasure before,” Ziri commented as they walked along a winding path that led them past smaller structures containing classrooms and storehouses.

  “Did you not travel throughout the realm with the Knights of Grace?” George hated to admit it, but he still knew very little about the fabled champions of justice and virtue.

  Ziri shook her head. “I operated out of our Kwatalarian conclave for the most part. We have several outposts located across the realm, maintaining the peace in the surrounding areas.”

  George stroked his chin with bemusement. “It’s funny how similar the Knights of Grace and the Shadow Brethren actually are. The Brethren operate the same way.” The Shadow Brethren, a notorious and well-organized criminal guild, had plagued the Realm of Virtues for centuries.

  Ziri smirked. “It makes sense, given the Brethren was started by a group of rogue, disillusioned Knights.”

  “Have you had any word from Prelate Brath since we left Fort Uhstal?” George asked, feeling more at ease talking about professional matters than anything else.

  If he hadn’t been staring at her so intently, the flicker of sadness that enveloped her features would have escaped his notice completely.

  “No. No, I haven’t.”

  George’s stomach flipped nervously when she didn’t elaborate. Was Ziri beginning to regret her decision to leave the Knights of Grace behind?

  With the bunkhouse in sight, George slowed his pace, not wanting to be overheard by the soldiers inside. “Ziri…” he gnawed on his lower lip, unsure if he should broach the subject. “Why did you part ways with the Knights of Grace?”

  She stopped and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. “Because the Duquessa asked me to join her court as spymaster.”

  “Yes, but why did you decide to leave? You could have told Jax no, and she would not have held it against you.”

  Ziri’s olive skin shimmered in the rosy sunset. “I will be forever grateful for my time with the Knights. Prelate Brath will always be like family to me. But I saw the opportunity for new adventures, with new bonds to forge.” Her bronze gaze searched his face. “I knew I might not have a chance like that again, so I took it.”

  He felt somewhat let down by her confession. His reaction surprised him. I guess part of me did hope she had joined because of me. “So, you agreed to Jax’s offer because you simply wanted a new challenge.”

  She tilted her head. “You seem disappointed with my reason. Why did you think I accepted?”

  A lump as hard as a rock formed in his throat, preventing him from immediately answering. “I-I…” he warred over selecting the right words. “I wondered—hoped, really—that you might have been interested in forming a special bond…with me.”

  He steeled himself for her to double over in laughter, but instead, her expression grew distressed. “I won’t lie, I considered nurturing such a bond, Captain Solomon.”

  Her use of his formal title told him all he needed to know.

  “Any woman would be lucky to have your heart,” she continued, her voice soft and comforting. “However, it has become clear to me that someone already does.” She glanced out across the sprawling, lush grounds. “And it is not me.”

  George followed her gaze and noted that it rested on the willow tree in the distance, the bench swing swaying in the light, ocean-scented breeze.

  “I don’t fault you for being in love with her.” Ziri turned her attention back to him. “Virtues, I find myself wondering if she’s cast some spell on me, for I sometimes feel the same way. She is a bright light, a beacon of hope. I cannot and do not wish to compete with her for your affection. I know I will not win.”

  George felt the blood drain from his face, only to be replaced by burning shame. Ziri could see the truth inside him that he had refused to acknowledge himself. He had not let go of the hope that Jax would somehow find her way back to him. In his heart he knew he could never love someone else as they deserved as long as he still held onto his desperate love for her. It wouldn’t be fair. But how was he ever supposed to let her go? He had been trying and trying for so long. Why couldn’t he be rid of his desire to love her?

  Ziri must have seen the war going on behind his eyes. “I pray that one day you will be able to find happiness. You are a good man. You deserve it.”

  “I don’t feel like a good man most of the time.” George could not forget the stabbing jealousy that radiated through him when he first spotted Perry in the Academy entrance hall.

  Ziri’s palm rested on his shoulder. “You give yourself far less credit. I do not know of any man alive who would risk his own life to save the husband of the woman he truly loved.”

  “I couldn’t let him die,” George whispered, the scene on the battlefield when he’d found Perry impaled by an arrow replaying in his mind. “It would have destroyed her to lose him.”

  “I hope the Duquessa knows just how lucky she is to have you watching over her, protecting her happiness at the expense of your own.”

  George’s gaze narrowed, not exactly liking her implication that he was some kind of selfless martyr. In his mind, if Perry had died during the battle—after a respectable time of mourning and grief, of course—he imagined that perhaps he and Jax would have found their way back to each other to begin the life Jax had offered him so very long ago.

  No. He banished the traitorous thought away. It did him no good to dwell on what might have been. Dwelling on the past was what had gotten him into this sad state of affairs in the first place. His first chance in a long time at finding happiness with an intelligent, attractive woman…and he had destroyed it before anything had really even begun between him and Ziri.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, staring sheepishly at the ground. “I hope I haven’t irrevocably damaged the friendship that has grown between us by bringing up such a topic.”

  Ziri smiled softly. “Certainly not. It has been one of the highest honors of my life to be called a friend by the Captain of the Saphire Ducal Guard.” She reached for his forearm and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  And just like that, the pressure in his neck disappeared. He would have thought disappointment and regret might have lingered inside his chest, but instead, he deflated with relief. Relief that Ziri had not thrown away her chance at being Prelate of the Knights of Grace over the possibility of a romance with him. Relief that they could be friends and close confidantes. Relief that she had not belittled him about his feelings for Jax. It had been a long time since he’d had a friend at his side who was just…a friend. He was heartened he had not lost that bond.

  “Now,” Ziri said, resuming their stroll toward the bunkhouse, “with that off of your mind, perhaps we can focus on bringing this mysterious thief to justice so that we may return to Lamartre quickly.”

  George
chuckled. “And why exactly are you so anxious to return to Lamartre?”

  Ziri’s cheeks darkened. “Oh, no particular reason.”

  “I hope you are able to lie more convincingly if you should ever be interrogated by an enemy.”

  Ziri’s nose wrinkled with feigned irritation. “We’re all allowed our secrets, Captain.”

  “Considering I just bared my soul to you, couldn’t you at least return the favor?” George raised a playful eyebrow. “Who back in Lamartre has you so eager to return?”

  Ziri rolled her eyes, sighing with defeat. “If you must know…I’m interested in getting to know Lady Sabine a little bit better.”

  George’s mouth dropped open.

  “The Duquessa’s companions were barely in the city a full day before she whisked us away on this little sojourn.” Ziri shrugged with her typical nonchalance. “But I certainly enjoyed what little time I spent with her.”

  George had wondered why Ziri’s frequent flirting ceased shortly after their arrival in Lamartre. He thought he had done something to anger her. Now he understood. She hadn’t been annoyed with him. She’d simply found someone else more worthy of her attentions.

  “And you think Sabine might feel the same?” In all the time George had known her, Sabine had only ever expressed interest in the guardsmen surrounding her. He’d never known her to show an interest in the same sex, but then again, it wasn’t as if he’d ever asked her.

  Ziri’s smile had a silly, girlish quality to it that almost made him tease her, but he held his tongue. “Yes. I think she was surprised by it, but there is certainly something there. I can feel it.”

  “Then I am happy for you.”

  Ziri’s eyes pinched with unbridled worry. “Really? I know such relationships are forbidden in my homeland of Kwatalar…”

  “That’s one of the first things I suspect Jax will change, once the throne is hers. For love has no rules or restrictions. It is a will of its own.”

  Bronze eyes swimming with hope, Ziri’s beaming smile threatened to crack her face in two.

  Chapter Twelve

  Feeling much more refreshed after a long, dreamless nap, Jax assessed herself in the vanity mirror, hoping that even without her crown, she looked the part of a Duchess. While Ezarath had given no indication that dinner would be a formal affair, Jax deemed it best that she radiate power and authority. If there was a thief among them, perhaps being in the presence of the realm’s most formidable and respected leader might put them off balance and force their hand.

  While she tucked in the last tendrils of loose curls into the elegant twist, Jax searched the mirror’s reflection for any sign that her neutral mask might be cracking. The stress from her battle with Perry still festered below the surface, and his precarious health did little to ease her pile of worries. She knew George had not been completely forthright with her earlier about Perry’s condition and had sent for Master Yokudran as soon as she awakened from her nap.

  “Duke Pettraud needs rest more than anything,” the healer had instructed. “His body has not had ample time to recuperate from his substantial injuries. He is pushing himself too hard, not to mention, utterly hopeless when it comes to dressing his own wounds. I’m quite astonished the laceration wasn’t more infected than it was.”

  “Infected?” Jax’s heart skipped a beat.

  Yokudran nodded. “I’ve taken care of the infection for now, Duchess, of that you can be certain. However, it is up to Duke Pettraud to allow himself the time and patience to fully recover from his injuries. I’ve given him a sedative that will keep him in bed for the night. A solid night’s sleep is one of the world’s oldest cures.”

  Yokudran’s assurances did little to alleviate Jax’s concern for her husband’s condition, but she couldn’t help but feel a little relieved she would not have to face him this evening. While readying herself for dinner, she had replayed the conversation she and Perry had had earlier about Pettraud’s future, the hurt and anger resurfacing, wounding her like a physical blow. Even now, looking at herself in the mirror, she was haunted by the tense exchange. Her husband had taken a stand, and it was not to be at her side.

  A knock on her door startled her from her thoughts, and she turned to greet George, Carriena, and Ziri as they entered the room.

  “You’re looking much better, Duquessa.” Ziri smiled in greeting, dressed in a shimmering black tunic and silk breeches for the evening.

  “I feel much better, thank you.”

  George’s armor gleamed in the dying sunlight that seeped in from a nearby window. “Your note is on its way to Adelaide. Do you have the others ready? I can send them by kestrel on our way down to dinner.”

  Jax balled a fist in frustration. In her concern for Perry, she had completely forgotten to pen letters to Jaquobie and Vyanti seeking information about the Academy’s newest professors.

  George sensed her anguish. “It’s nothing that can’t wait until after dinner. For all we know, Ashcroft has ferreted out the thief by now.”

  She appreciated him for trying to make her feel better, but as Duchess, she should have been able to expertly juggle more concerns at once. It seemed she was having trouble getting anything done at all these days.

  “How is Perry doing? Will he be joining us?” Carriena looked around the room, as if she thought Perry might be hiding.

  Jax shook her head. “I summoned Master Yokudran here for an update. He’s given Perry a sleeping draft that will keep him in bed for the rest of the night. He’s in desperate need of rest.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Ziri raised a wry eyebrow.

  Jax’s keen gaze slid to George, his brow furrowing slightly at the mention of Perry. George had always worn a brave face when it came to her relationship with Perry, but now she wondered if it was beginning to get the better of him. Due to Perry’s role as Duke, the two of them had been kept apart from each other of late. It had been a long while since George had to deal with seeing her and Perry together without the threat of the War Council hanging over all their heads. She prayed it wouldn’t break him. There might have been a time when she was strong enough to let her best friend go, but now, she couldn’t imagine the challenges ahead without him by her side, especially since Perry had chosen to protect the legacy of Pettraud over providing a new and bright future for the people of the realm.

  “Shall we head down?” George cleared his throat and motioned toward the door. “I recall Headmaster Ezarath not appreciating tardiness at dinner.”

  “Indeed. Yes, we best make haste. I’d hate to be sent to eat in the stables.” Jax smirked at what had been the headmaster’s preferred choice of punishment when she attended the school.

  Ziri chuckled. “It would put a damper on our plans to gather intelligence about our fellow guests, for certain.”

  “Unless one of the horses stole into the archives and ate the providence documents for a snack,” Carriena pointed out with a snort.

  Minutes later, Jax, Carriena, George, and Ziri halted just outside the doorway of the dining hall. The door had been left open a crack, allowing the heated voices from within to boil out.

  “I never expected you to sink so low, Kareem. Not after everything the headmaster has done for you.”

  Jax’s wide-eyed gaze met her friends’ stunned expressions at the tension in Master Casimeer’s voice.

  “And what has the headmaster exactly done for me?” Kareem snapped back. “I rose to this position purely on my own merits. Ezarath never supported me, not once.” The deputy headmaster growled. “I refuse to be kept at arm’s length any longer, especially now. Ezarath is up to something, and I plan to put an end to it.”

  “My caelum,” Casimeer cooed, a term of endearment Jax was unfamiliar with, “a vendetta does not suit you. We must leave the headmaster’s fate in the hands of the gods. We have other things to focus on if we are to succeed.”

  In the hands of the gods? Curiosity vaulted through her. Master Casimeer was a practitioner of the Ancient F
aith, then. With his Zaltorian roots, that wasn’t entirely surprising, as Zaltor was home to a large population of the religious sect. She was more intrigued by the vehemence in Kareem Daghir’s voice when speaking about Ezarath. What had Casimeer been referring to when he called out Kareem?

  Another voice sounded out from the recesses of the dining hall. “Ah, Deputy Headmaster,” a vaguely familiar voice said in greeting. “Since you are here, will you make the wine selection for the evening? The headmaster was too busy writing letters earlier when I went to ask him, and never gave me his recommendation.” Chef Peregane must have entered the room from a service door.

  Jax took that distraction as the opportune moment to glide into the dining hall. Daghir and Casimeer, both standing in the corner nearest to the entrance, turned in her direction, a momentary expression of panic flickering across Daghir’s face before his features smoothed into handsome ease. “Ah, why not allow the Duchess of Saphire to make tonight’s wine selection, Chef?” the deputy headmaster suggested.

  Jax bowed her head. “I thank you for the honor, Deputy Daghir.” She let her smile drift toward the portly man standing in the service pantry doorway opposite Daghir and Casimeer. “Chef Peregane, it is good to see you looking well.”

  “Your Grace!” He removed his white cap and bowed. “My, it has been some time since you terrorized these halls.”

  Jax laughed, enjoying the looks of mild horror on Casimeer and Daghir’s faces. Since they had not been at the Academy during her formative years, she couldn’t blame them for being shocked by the familiarity the jovial chef displayed. “I hope you have secured your storeroom cupboards, sir.”

  “Indeed.” Chef Peregane winked. “The minute I heard you’d arrived, I made sure all the pastries and cakes were locked up tight.”

  “Ah, Peregane, there you are,” a gruff voice came from behind Jax, signaling Ezarath’s arrival. “I forgot to ask for the Perigoux to be uncorked. I think that will pair nicely with the meal.”

  “An excellent choice, Headmaster.” Jax smiled, relieved of her duties to make a selection.