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“My name is Duke Valerian, and I have come from Kenter to bid for Lady Riona’s hand in marriage,” he said, his voice clear and confident. “I hope these gifts will ease the burden the war with Erduria has placed on your shoulders, and remind you that the Kentari people stand with you. Please, take what you need.”
As Riona watched, the wariness on the people’s faces eased, and they began to line up in front of the Kentari guards. Many were haggard-looking women in long, worn dresses, young children clinging to their skirts. Valerian’s expression softened as he watched a little girl hesitantly accept a loaf of bread from a guard and rush back to her mother’s side.
“I remember standing beside my father after the Kostori siege ended,” he murmured, “and watching a line of merchants file into the city. The gates had been closed for more than a year. People lined the streets, shouting and cheering. Someone in the square below brought out an old lute and began to play, and I realized then that it was the first time I had heard music since the siege began. I was only five years old, but I remember that moment as if it were yesterday. We finally had hope again. I am glad to give hope to these people, even if it is only for a short while.”
Riona nodded, surveying the gaunt faces around them. “The war has been difficult for us all, but it hits this part of the city the worst. The factory owners can’t afford to pay their workers after the Erdurians sink their trading ships, and many of the men are forced to join the navy to support their families. Few come back alive.”
Valerian turned to her. “If we marry, my father and I will help. Our navy is small compared to your uncle’s, but if he will provide ships, we can send food and goods to be distributed to those most affected by the war.”
“You have enough to spare?”
He nodded. “Kostos demands most of our resources, but I’ve been building stockpiles in Glenkeld and some of the other major cities. Once we reestablish our independence, I’ll be able to divert some of those supplies to Rivosa.”
Riona smiled, touched by his generosity. She watched the people move from guard to guard, collecting everything from bowls of soup to swaths of fabric to leather shoe soles. Every single one of them bowed or curtsied to her and Valerian once they’d finished, tears in their eyes as they stumbled over words of gratitude. Riona smiled and bade them farewell, but inside, her stomach knotted. If her uncle sent Prince Drystan away without a treaty, how long would the war with Erduria continue? How long could these people endure the fighting?
“If my uncle chooses one of the other suitors,” Riona began when they had a moment alone, “would you still provide aid to my people? If you and I were to secure the army you need another way, would you help us?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I can’t promise that King Tamriel and Mercy would pledge you troops, but I do have some good will in Beltharos from my time there. I could write to them.” She had fought to restore the rightful king’s throne, and she knew that Tamriel was grateful to her and Percival for their aid. If she wrote to him, he would at leastconsiderproviding Valerian the men he needed.
“Do you have such little faith in my negotiating abilities, my lady?” the duke asked, a wry smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “I know Eamon and Drystan have more to offer your uncle, but I don’t think I should give up hopethisearly.”
“No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t want you to have a better standing in the court.” She nodded to the crates of goods at the guards’ feet, trying not to betray how much she wanted Valerian to secure troops from Beltharos. That would leave her with only Kostos and Erduria to contend with as the negotiations progressed. “Still, I thought you should be aware that Beltharan aid is an option. Even if we are not married at the end of the negotiations, I hope that you will be able to reclaim your country’s independence.”
“Thank you, my lady. I appreciate your help, but there is no need to write to King Tamriel just yet, with the negotiations only just beginning.”
They turned as a young, weary-looking mother approached them to give her thanks, a pair of round-faced little boys clinging to her skirt. While Riona spoke with their mother, Valerian knelt and dazzled them with the flash of a gold Kentari coin, whispering something about them bringing good luck as he passed one to each child. Their mother curtsied and thanked him profusely before herding her boys down the street, a basket of food swinging from one arm.
They remained there into the evening, handing out food and goods and speaking with the people of the sector. By the time Riona returned to her father’s estate, her cheeks ached from smiling. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop. After a while, she had even forgotten that she had organized the display to aid Duke Valerian. It had simply been nice to leave the confines of the castle and spend time amongst her people.
She climbed the stairs and started toward her room. As she passed one of the open doorways, Amaris poked her head out and called, “I heard about your little outing. Did you enjoy your time with the duke?”
“Yes,” Riona answered. “I truly did.”
Without waiting for a response, she slipped into her bedroom and closed the door, then sat at her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink. After lighting the candelabra, she picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and began her letter to King Tamriel Myrellis.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
The Liar
Auberon was still fuming about the negotiations when he arrived at the Royal Theater that night. Riona was already there, dressed in the same dark, fitted clothing she had worn the night before. Her long braids were twisted into a knot atop her head, and every strand sparkled with gold beads. She stood among the skeletal trees atop the stage, hacking at a wooden costume mannequin with a prop sword she must have found among the theater’s stores. She was clearly untrained, but her movements held a dancer’s natural grace—that much was undeniable. As was the spark of desire that flared within Auberon as he watched her fight her inanimate opponent.
“I think you’ve killed him,” he said as he bounded up the steps. “Despite doing just about everything wrong.”
Riona frowned at him over her shoulder. “I wasn’t doingeverythingwrong. I know which side of the sword to hold.” She lifted the weapon in emphasis, then sent it sweeping toward the mannequin. “And I know where to hit.”
“Oh, aye. A stunning maneuver. Mannequins everywhere are quaking.”
She spun and lunged toward him, the sword slicing through the air. Auberon stepped to the side and, with a raised brow, grabbed the blade with his bare hand. It was metal, but dulled to a blunt edge. “First lesson: use a proper weapon.”
He yanked it sharply, pitching her off balance. Riona stumbled forward, and he caught her, an arm slipping around her waist. Auberon heard her breath hitch when she realized that they stood chest-to-chest, her soft curves pressed against the hard planes of his torso. His gaze roved from the thick lashes framing her blue eyes to her high cheekbones, then down to her full, perfect lips. For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
“You see?” he breathed, his heart pounding. “Now I’ve disarmed you.”
“Only because I let you get so close,” she huffed, looking down at where his fingers were still wrapped around the dull blade. “I’m doing my best. Some of us didn’t grow up with the luxury of a private swordplay tutor.”
His smile faded. “I should think the greater luxury is not having to grow up with one at all.”
