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And after the welcome Auberon had been given by the Rivosi court, he would take any ally luck sent his way.
He was halfway to the guest house when an elven servant approached him and dropped into a low bow, proffering a folded piece of parchment. Auberon accepted it and broke the wax seal, unfolding it to find a short note inside. It was unsigned, but the distinctly feminine cursive and overly formal (yet still somewhat condescending) tone left no doubt of its author.
I’ve secured a place for us to meet, Riona had written.When you are well, we may discuss what to do next at the Royal Theater. Let’s see just how adept you are at slipping through the cracks in the castle’s security.
Auberon studied the elven servant. Bowed as he was, the neckline of his servants’ livery dipped just enough to reveal a glimpse of a small obsidian pendant—one that looked remarkably like the eudorite necklace Riona wore. “What is your name?”
The elf did not rise. “Aeron, Your Highness.”
“I take it you’re a friend of Lady Riona’s, then?”
He stiffened. “I wouldn’t say that, Your Highness. I serve all the members of King Domhnall’s family.”
“Oh, no?” Auberon leaned in and smiled. “Then you may wish to hide the mark of her favor a little better,” he said, nodding to the pendant. As Aeron rose and tucked it back under his tunic, he continued, “Can you fetch me a quill and a pot of ink?”
Aeron nodded and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with the items he’d requested. Auberon took the quill, dipped it in the ink, and scrawled,How about tonight?
He sent the elf off with the note, and Riona’s response returned in minutes.
I’ll see you at midnight.
ChapterTwenty
The Lady
“I’ve been thinking about what you said at the banquet the other night. About the unrest in Kenter,” Riona said as she and Prince Eamon walked arm-in-arm through the public gardens. The sun was shining brightly—a rare event for Innislee—and several noble couples were out enjoying the weather, walking the gravel paths or sitting by the edge of the pond at the park’s center. “I was in Beltharos during the civil war, and after nearly losing my life because of it, I have no desire to bear witness to any more fighting. I wanted to ask if you believe that the rebels in Kenter will revolt against the Grand Duke. Or if they will tire of Kostori occupation and attempt to cast you off entirely. Do you fear that they will turn on you?”
Prince Eamon didn’t respond immediately, seeming to consider his words carefully. As they walked, a handful of Rivosi guards trailing just out of earshot, Riona gazed toward the pond. Shortly after arriving at the public gardens, they had stumbled upon Lord Winslow, who had offered them warm greetings before taking Prince Domhnall aside to discuss some matter pertaining to the negotiations. They were sitting at one of the white marble benches by the water’s edge, their heads bent in conversation.
“The Grand Duke’s court can be…volatile at times,” Eamon finally said. “As you have seen, our involvement in Kentari politics is a sore spot for Duke Valerian. He is loath to admit it, but his people have enjoyed fifteen years of peace preciselybecauseof our occupation.”
They are enjoying that peace becauseyoudecided to stop invading their land. Now, when you terrorize them, you claim it is because they are your vassal, not because they are your enemy,Riona thought, but she kept the response to herself. She knew few details about the siege fifteen years ago, but she saw a glimmer of Nicholas Comyn’s arrogance in Prince Eamon, and it left no doubt in her mind who was the villain in that particular tale. Still, she chose her words wisely. She didn’t have to like the Kostori prince, but she had to forge an alliance between their lands.
“There must be some cause for concern if your father sends you to Kenter every time the nobles demand justice for the former Grand Duke and his family,” she said lightly. “Certainly if it were only grumbling, as Duke Valerian claimed, he and his father could handle it. That was the point of them becoming a vassal, was it not? Your father didn’t annex the duchy into his kingdom.”
The prince faltered, and Riona fought to keep the smirk from her lips at the trap she’d laid. At the banquet, he had tried to harm Duke Valerian’s position in the negotiations by making the Grand Duke seem a weak and ineffective leader, unable to quell even the slightest hint of unrest without Kostori aid. Yet if he exaggerated his claims too much, he risked scaring the king into rejecting a marriage alliance with both Kenter and Kostos. Her uncle would not send her to a country bound to be mired in a years-long war, one for which he would be honor-bound to provide military aid. He had enough troubles with the war against Erduria.
“Valerian’s father does his best, but the duchy is large, and the war left his country in shambles,” Eamon finally replied. “Without my father’s troops, the Grand Duke would not be sitting on his throne today, and Valerian often chooses to forget that little fact.” Prince Eamon sniffed in disdain, dismissing the idea with a flick of his hand. “He thinks it is long past time his country reclaimed its freedom, but he fails to realize that his comfortable, luxurious life will come to a swift and violent end if it does. He is as likely to be stabbed in the back by one of his own people as he is by one of mine—ifhe and his father step out of line.”
“Hm,” Riona murmured mildly, not deigning to respond. She’d spent about as much time as she could stomach with the Kostori prince. “If you will excuse me, Your Highness, I should see how Lord Winslow is faring after Treasurer Cathal’s death. They were quite close.”
He frowned, but nodded, reluctantly releasing the hand she had slipped into the crook of his arm. “Of course, my lady. It was a pleasure speaking with you, and I hope we may do it again soon—preferablywithoutthe company of His Imperial Highness,” he said with a sharp look at Drystan’s back.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
She curtsied and quickly joined Drystan and Winslow where they sat on the marble bench. “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation,” she breathed when she reached them, “but I was hoping, Lord Winslow, that you wouldn’t mind entertaining the Kostori prince for a few minutes.”
“You mean you want me to spare you his charming company?” Winslow quipped knowingly. “Prince Drystan here told me His Highness practically attached himself to your side the moment you stepped out of the carriage.”
“To my great misfortune.”
“Then of course I will come to your rescue, my lady.” The lord rose and bowed. “I shall take my leave of you, Your Highness. Lady Riona.”
He started toward Prince Eamon, and Drystan gestured for Riona to take the spot on the bench that Winslow had vacated. “Finally managed to extricate yourself from Eamon’s grasp, I see,” he said as Riona sat, the marble cool through the silk of her skirt. A crooked grin, so like his brother’s, tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I should have warned you that he would attempt to steal you away at the first opportunity.”
“He’s very…determined.”
Drystan laughed, a warm, rich sound. “Not exactly the word I would have chosen for him, and most definitely not the one Auberon would have chosen.”
