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“But Father,” she said with wide eyes.
“No one should see you.”
She scowled. “Who is here? Are we under attack?”
Kerrigan saw a warrior in her yet. Constantine might be trying to protect her at all costs, but it only made her more stubborn. More like him.
“We’re not under attack,” he said, smoothing over his irritation. His eyes flickered to Kerrigan and back to his daughter.
Huh. Was he lying to her? He couldn’t lie to his daughter. Of course, he knew that.
Danae pursed her lips. “Then, what is going on? I will not leave without an explanation.”
His hands clenched into fists. “You will do as you’re told. I am the kurios, and you are my daughter.”
“You were kurios,” she snarled angrily. “And I am not a little girl anymore.”
The past tense clearly wounded him. Even though it was accurate, it had to be hard to walk away from being a king.
“Tarcus.” He finally spat the word as if he could barely stomach it. “Our scouts recognized him on the horizon. He should be here within the hour.”
Danae blanched. She turned to Kerrigan. “Is he here for you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
She’d thought that she had slipped free of Tarcus. She hadn’t considered his reaction to her slipping out from under him and into the hands of his enemy. It made a slow, cruel smile crawl onto her face. Oh, this was going to be interesting.
“We haven’t spoken to him, but I don’t want him to see you, Day,” Constantine said firmly. “Felicity will stay here with me. My men will wait at the gates, and we will see what trouble he tries to bring to our doorstep.”
“Could he force himself inside?” Kerrigan asked curiously.
“Sure,” Constantine said. “But he won’t. I’ll invite him in.”
She startled. “Playing nice with the enemy.”
“Keeping everyone in here alive,” he barked back at her. He turned to one of the guards on duty. “Jovil, take Danae to her rooms and don’t let her leave.”
Danae protested. “I don’t have to be under guard!”
Constantine just nodded at Jovil, who gestured for Danae to leave. Danae looked prepared to scream bloody murder, but at her father’s concerned stare, she settled for an indignant glare, ripping her arm from Jovil’s grasp and stalking down the hall.
“And me?” Kerrigan asked. “What is my part in this?”
“We’ll find out presently, won’t we?”
Kerrigan followed him out onto the rampart overlooking the grounds beyond Constantine’s fortress. She could distinctly see the cloud on the horizon that indicated Tarcus’s approach. It was larger than a single horse could possibly make. Surely, he wasn’t planning to attack Constantine.
The wait was interminable. It took about an hour for Tarcus to reach the final stretch of land that led to the portcullis. By now, Kerrigan could see that he’d come in some kind of chariot, wearing a red head plume and looking utterly ridiculous. He’d brought roughly twenty men with him. Not enough to take the estate, but enough to look formidable. She could feel his eyes on her as soon as he was within range. She shuddered with disgust. Time had not tempered her distaste for the man.
“Constantine Pallas,” a man yelled out, holding a banner of a three-headed lion that swung in the breeze. “I bring tidings from Senator Tarcus Valerii and request safe passage into your home.”
“What is Tarcus Valerii’s business within my home?” Constantine’s voice boomed back to the man.
Tarcus bristled at the question. Perhaps it was rude to ask about his business before being allowed inside. Kerrigan thought it practical.
“His business is his own. By rights of the Domaran Senate, you will open your doors and provide safe passage and hospitality for the senator.”
“I have every intention of following the protocol of the Domaran Senate,” Constantine said jovially. “Though I ask, why am I being honored this day by a great senator, such as Tarcus Valerii?”
The venom was almost not present in his voice. Kerrigan was impressed. If she hadn’t known his distaste for Tarcus, she wouldn’t have even heard it.
The man looked to Tarcus, as if to ask him how he wanted to proceed. Because of the red-plumed hat on Tarcus’s head, Kerrigan couldn’t make out his facial expressions. She only knew that he was fixated on her.
“The senator has requested passage to discuss negotiations for falsely acquired property,” the man said delicately. “And under Domaran law …”
“Yes, yes, Domaran law.” Constantine waved the formalities aside. “The senator is allowed within my home. His men may rest upon the grounds and stable their horses on the provided post.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but Constantine just continued, “Domaran law only requires that the senator be accompanied by his steward unless an act of war has been issued.”
The silence that lingered between them at the insinuation was heavy. He wouldn’t go to war over something so small. They were banking on Constantine not understanding protocol because he was Andine. But Constantine had not been kurios for no reason. He knew how to protect his home and men. He wouldn’t be caught off guard by any protocol they threw his way.
