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When the torchlight struck his face, he saw recognition spark on their faces. A couple of the guards cracked grins at his disheveled appearance, and one gestured for the gate to be opened. “Did you enjoy your night, Your Highness?”
“With a strong drink and good company, how could I not?” Auberon took another swig of whiskey, savoring the way the world had begun to grow fuzzy around the edges. He leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll find my way into the arms of a beautiful noblewoman.”
“Perhaps you will, Your Highness.”
Auberon bade them farewell, then sauntered up the cobblestone path with his guards in tow, humming an old Kentari drinking song. He maintained the charade until the guest house appeared before them.
“There’s an elven prostitute missing from one of the cheap brothels in the southern sector of the city.The Bear and the Maiden,” he said to one of his men as he approached the house. The storm had been too violent to make out the sign, but he’d gathered the name of the brothel from the rather graphic artwork he’d passed in the hall. “Her name is Faylen. Send some men to search for her, but be quiet about it. If you find her, set her up with a room in a tavern and send for me.”
The guard nodded, and Auberon slipped into the house and crept up the stairs to his room, trying not to awaken Drystan or the slumbering guards. Once he had shut the door, he set the whiskey on the table, shucked off his wet clothes, and climbed into bed.
Minutes passed. He lay there wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. The heat in his shoulder pulsed like a brand under his chilled flesh, reminding him of his conversation with the duke. By the Creator, Auberon had no idea what to make of Valerian. They weren’t enemies. The Duchy of Kenter was a vassal to Kostos, and—personal grievances aside—Kostos and Erduria were neutral toward each other. Thanks to the Kostori control over the duchy, Valerian and his father were little more than figureheads. The duke was nothing to him.
And yet, Valerian had healed him and asked only for discretion in exchange.
AfterAuberon threatened to kill him.
He could continue to pressure the duke into revealing what he had done, but it would be wiser not to risk his and Drystan’s places in Innislee. If King Domhnall discovered that Auberon had threatened one of the suitors within his walls, he and Drystan would immediately be cast out of Rivosa. Prince Eamon would win Riona’s hand.
Although the alliance was shaky, he believed that Valerian was sincere about wanting to prevent Eamon from marrying Riona. He could trust that the duke wouldn’t say a word about Auberon’s threat. He could overlook Valerian’s strange ability for now. Frankly, he had so much on his mind that uncovering what the duke had done to him was theleastof his concerns.
He closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but his thoughts kept drifting to Riona. He hadn’t gone to the theater intending to antagonize her, but as soon as he walked through the archway and heard the song she was playing, he hadn’t been able to stop the flood of memories that had overcome him. He had spent so many nights in his mother’s music room back home, lulled gently to sleep by the very same melody Riona had been playing. He could still picture her dark, wavy hair falling over her shoulder as she swayed in time with the music. Those nights felt like a lifetime ago. The boy he had been then would not recognize the man he had become. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel pride or shame about that.
He had been harsher than he should have been with Riona, but he hadn’t been able to bear the grief in her eyes, nor the pang of sorrow and longing that had lodged in his heart. Nothing would bring Riona’s mother back. Nothing would return him to those nights of falling asleep in his mother’s music room. It was time they each accepted that.
Auberon closed his eyes and splayed a hand over his heart, exactly where Riona had placed the tip of his dagger. Although she had never been trained to fight, there was something fierce and unforgiving about her. It was entrancing.
That night, he fell asleep with the scent of Riona’s perfume in his nose and the sound of her laughter filling his ears. Just as the darkness swept over him, he sent a silent entreaty to Drystan:
Please, forgive me.
ChapterTwenty-Four
The Lady
The sound of ringing steel greeted Riona when she arrived at the castle’s main garden the next morning. In the center of the grass, Prince Domhnall and Prince Eamon were slashing at each other with blunted practice swords, to the delight of the courtiers and council members gathered around them. Eamon twisted a second too late, and her cousin landed a blow to the prince’s upper arm, earning a smattering of applause from the onlookers.
Riona scanned the garden. A few yards away, Duke Valerian stood watching the match and sipping from a goblet of wine, an unreadable expression on his face. Despite the early winter chill in the air, he wore only a simple tunic, the loose neckline revealing a swath of suntanned skin shiny with perspiration. His stare never strayed from the Kostori prince. When Eamon disarmed Prince Domhnall and leveled the edge of his practice blade at the Crown Prince’s throat, Valerian’s lips turned downward in distaste.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Riona said as she approached him. She gestured toward her cousin and Prince Eamon. “From the look on your face, one might think you were wishing the blades were real. Hoping to repay Prince Eamon for his comments about your country’s political turmoil, are you?”
“That, and everything else he and his father have done to Kenter,” he muttered. “I would not be surprised if he spent the entirety of your outing yesterday regaling you with stories of my father’s failings.”
“Oh, not the entirety, but a good portion,” Riona responded lightly. “Not to worry—I take everything he says with a grain of salt. As I do with all of you suitors.”
Duke Valerian laughed. “Good. If you took him at his word, I would seriously question your judgment. And my own in trying to win your hand.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry we’ve not had much time to speak since your arrival. I trust that your meeting with His Majesty went well yesterday?”
“There’s no need to apologize, my lady. Considering everything that has happened, I was amazed the king still insisted on speaking with me at all. Your uncle is a strong man.”
“Yes, he is,” Riona responded, recalling the sight of him kneeling before the altar in the private chapel, tears streaming down his cheeks. She had arrived at the court dinner not one hour later, and if she hadn’t seen him in mourning, she might have thought him perfectly unruffled by the events of the last week. “What are you asking for in addition to my hand? Trade? Resources?”
“An army.”
Riona’s brows rose. She was surprised that the duke would state it so plainly, when Prince Eamon had danced so carefully around the topic of war. “Truly?”
“Yes. I will not deny it.” His expression hardened with resolve as he glanced back at Eamon and Domhnall, their blades slicing through the air with undeniable skill. “The Kostori have controlled my country for almost as long as I’ve been alive. I will not watch them bleed us dry any longer.”
