Page 90 of The Castle & the Cloister

“A little wonder,” Nikolau said earnestly, looking down at Justus. He’d always liked children and animals, because they were straightforward and easily won over. But he’d never been the sort to do more than earn their affections and hand them off to someone else’s care.

“All babies are wonders,” Fia said. The anthara slipped sweet and herbal down her throat, reminding her of the past, and everything she’d done to survive.

“Ours more than any other,” Nikolau said. “I want to be something to her, Fia. More than a stranger, I mean. I’m not cut out for a father—not with my life being what it is, but I’d like to know her, and for her to know me as she grows.”

“You’ll be a guardian. A protector, if needed.” Fia leaned back in her chair, her gaze still trained on Nikolau. “The role will suit you well.”

Transparent pleasure crossed his face. He was as easy to read as ever, as easy to shift if she felt like moving him. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

“I swore an oath to Miriel when she was born. I promised by my mark to do everything in my power to safeguard her, and to be a support to her as she grows. Perhaps you’d like to make such an oath now?” Fia put the offer to him carelessly, as if it did not matter whether he agreed to it or not. Nikolau jumped at it—he had a flare for declarations and shows of affection.

“Of course. Anything you like, I’ll swear it for our child.”

Nikolau handed the baby back to Fia and pressed his left hand to his upper right arm, where Fia knew his goddess mark rested—a white sunburst across his lean, whip-strong bicep. It was rare for a mark to come upon someone grown, but Nikolau’s had appeared the afternoon he first pleased Fia, on a bed of leaves beneath a stand of aspens. He’d seemed bemused by it, Vesperin agnostic that he was, but he never showed anything but respect for the Beloved Three and those who followed them. Itwas not worth the risk, to offend goddesses who very well might be real. Fia had kissed his mark a hundred times if she’d done it once, and every time, he’d seemed a little more convinced of its divine origin.

“By Bright Raea, goddess of my mark, I, Nikolau Herastos, swear to protect this child,” Fia prompted.

“By Bright Raea, goddess of my mark, I, Nikolau Herastos, swear to protect this child,” Nikolau repeated. His eyes were trained on the baby in Fia’s arms, devotion kindling within them.

“To be a bulwark against harm, a loyal defender, and a support through the years to come.”

Again, Nikolau echoed Fia’s words. He was so sincere, so filled with fervent goodwill, that a fragment of her wished to relent. But only a fragment, which Fia silenced quickly enough.

“Now finish it,” she prompted.

“Should I fail in my oath, may the sun strike me dead. Let me see her again.”

Fia handed the baby to him.

“You can’t see Miriel,” she said, once Justus was settled in Nikolau’s arms. “She’s safe at the cloister, as I told you she would be. I’d never subject our child to this wretched mountain. You’ve just sworn allegiance to Justus Inver, heir to Honoria’s throne, and Raea will hold you to your oath.”

Nikolau froze in his seat, all the sun-kissed color draining from his face.

“You always had a taste for gallows humor,” he said. “And I never found it funny. Neither is this.”

“Oh, I’m in complete earnest,” Fia said, taking a sip of her anthara. Lukewarm. She set the cup aside—it was unappealing to her unless it was nearly hot enough to burn. “I need a new captain of the Honorian guard. And you need a way to fulfill the oath you’ve just made, or Raea herself will bring you to a miserable end.”

“Take the child,” Nikolau muttered through gritted teeth, “and go to hell.”

“I’ll do neither. Because I know you, Nikolau. You’re a good man. You’d never harm a helpless babe, and you’ve seen too much in Honoria not to honor a goddess-sworn oath, no matter how it was made.”

“You’veruinedme. The Honorian guard are everything I hate. The king’s pressers are drawn from the guard, and you know what theyare—they tear families apart, all to ensure the war in Vesper is kept fed with human tinder. Besides which, how long do you think I’d last at Inver court before someone discovered where I’m really from?”

“Of course I know what the pressers are,” Fia said, a warning note in her voice. “If you recall, they killed my brother.”

Nikolau had gone from dead pale to ashen gray and was livid with fury now. None of it bothered Fia—she knew him to be a man of quick and towering passions, which rose and fell in an instant.

“And you expect me to be a part of that?” Nikolau said. “Raea will have to kill me. I won’t do it, Fia. You might as well have run me through. There’s no way I’ll make good on that oath, goddess-sworn though it was.”

Fia heaved a weary sigh. “Nikolau. Listen. Do you think there’d be no opportunity to undermine the pressers’ work ascaptain of the guard? Your deserters are what, five hundred strong? Seven hundred at most?” Nikolau nodded reluctantly. “You could hide twice that number in Inverlyn alone as guard captain, and no one would be the wiser. You could outlaw the practice of pressing citizens into service altogether, if you were patient and waited until enough courtiers were in your debt. That would do more to weaken Honoria’s hold in Vesper than anything else you’ve ever accomplished. Just by accepting the position of guard captain, you’d have one power willing to back you already.”

“Who?” Nikolau asked, his eyes narrowing.

“The Priest. He’s making a bid for the regency, to hold the throne for Justus till he comes of age.”

A scornful noise escaped Nikolau. “The Priest all of Inverlyn says you’re fucking?”

“I’m not yet, though I mean to,” Fia said with undented calm. “But who I take to my bed is none of your concern. What should concern you is fulfilling the oath you’ve just sworn, and the fact that everything I’ve said is true. You can undermine the pressers a thousand times more effectively as head of the guard, and put an end to them entirely before too long. Imagine that. No more families torn apart. And far, far fewer troops on the ground in Vesper.”