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Ria let out a cry bordering so much on a scream that multiple footsteps pounded their way within moments. “Your Majesty!”
“She just collapsed,” Ria said, her voice warbling as though she was holding back tears. “You, you’re nearest. Could you lift her, please? I’ve summoned Mery to Ryssa’s room, but we’ll need to get her upstairs.”
This promised to be the toughest part—not reacting when someone touched her. Tes forced her breathing to remain steady and her muscles lax as an arm slipped beneath her knees and then another under her back. Inside, she couldn’t help but recoil, though the guard lifted her with the utmost care and respect.
For once, the most miserable moments of her life came in handy. As she’d done countless times at more court functions than she could recall, Tes stifled her disgust at being handled by a stranger.This isn’t the same, anyway.And it wasn’t. The guard’s gentle hold was far removed from wandering hands on the dance floor or forced embraces where no one had been able to see. Although those bold interlopers had stopped before going too far, she’d come to loathe even the softest unexpected brush.
Only Ber had ever gotten close enough for her to let down her defenses andenjoybeing touched. Another thing that would no doubt be over. No matter what Toren believed, there had to be a deeper, darker reason behind Ber’s actions. Even if he reiterated his claims of innocence to her face, it would be impossible to believe him. The trust between them was gone, and that meant the joy of his touch would be, too.
Ah, well. She had bigger problems to worry about, didn’t she?
After an uncomfortable eternity, the guard lowered her carefully onto a soft surface and then was gone. Tes held in a sigh of relief and resisted the urge to burrow into the familiar embrace of her bed. If she wasn’t careful, she might fall asleep.
“What could it be?” Ria asked from somewhere nearby. “She was clutching her stomach.”
“It should be well past the time for childbirth-related illnesses, but you never know,” Mery replied. “Once the guards leave, I’ll examine her.”
More footsteps, though these were more shuffling than pounding this time. Then the soft click of the door closing. “They’re gone,” Ria said.
Instantly, Tes sat up. “Continue discussing the illness while I prepare,” she whispered.
Both women nodded, and as Tes slipped silently from the bed and padded toward her dressing room, they made occasional comments as though Mery was in the process of an examination. Tes eased through the door—she’d been certain to oil the hinges—and pulled off her dress. In short order, she’d donned a simple, well-fitted tunic and pants, then covered those with a gown more common amongst the merchant classes.
She wasn’t taking a portal straight to the castle, after all. She had a couple of allies in the city surrounding the Centoi palace, and she intended to request their help without qualm.Best of all? She was fairly certain that not even Ber knew she’d befriended them to such an extent. But if he did, it didn’t matter.
With luck, she would be in the palace before he realized she’d returned.
Most mornings,Ber made a point of training in the practice field frequented by officers and nobles, though he could have insisted on a private sparring partner because of his rank. But he’d been doing this nearly from the beginning, and after so many centuries, no one gave it much thought. It made for a handy place to hear and observe, and he’d earned a few of his strongest allies over sword practice for the effort.
Like Sir Owein, whom he’d just trounced at a practice match. As the fifth son of an earl with only moderate influence, Owein had chosen to enter the guard, and he’d managed to earn a high rank even before befriending Ber. It was both the man’s talent with the sword and his friendship with Ber that had caught the king’s eye enough to advance him to the inner circle.
A fact that brought Ber no small amount of guilt, considering the awful nature of that circle.
“Good match, Your Highness,” Owein said as he placed his sword on the rack.
“Yes, indeed,” Ber agreed. “You might have won if you’d guarded your left side as well as your right.”
The man snorted. “Sure. Even after spending a few years training in Llyalia, I can’t figure out what you do differently.”
Truthfully, there was no great secret, though Owein had suggested more than once that there must be one. Ber simply excelled at anything physical. Where his brother was passable,Ber succeeded beyond expectations. He liked to think it was the gods’ recompense for giving Toren nearly all the magic.
As Ber stored his own blade, Lord Ilduin stepped up beside them. “An excellent match to watch. I would enjoy a chance to spar soon myself, Your Highness.”
“Is that so?” Ber asked. Of course, he was well aware that it wasn’t true. Ilduin’s training was lackluster and sporadic at best. “I would offer to do so now, but I’m afraid my father will be expecting me for breakfast soon.”
Ilduin’s lip curled with the same disdain Ber felt at calling the king father. “That’s too bad. But perhaps you have time for a brief word?”
Ber eyed the amount of people around them. Noting their relative isolation, he nodded. “What is it?”
“Last night…” The lord seemed to consider Owein for a moment, but he must have decided the other man was safe enough to include, since he continued without comment. “After we left you at dinner, he suggested you marry your niece, didn’t he?”
At the perceptive question, Ber went still, his every muscle and nerve preparing for action. It was a bold thing to ask, and that temerity could have only two causes. Either Ilduin was testing Ber’s loyalty to Ryenil, or he was signaling that he was willing to form some kind of alliance. Really, it could be either. The man had long been an enigma, his reactions vacillating between support for and dislike of the king's orders.
“You know I can’t reveal what happened in a private conference with the king,” Ber said. “That would be treason.”
Of course, treason was rather a habit of his, but Ilduin hopefully didn’t know that.
“I suppose confirmation doesn’t matter,” the lord said, waving his hand. “Nor do I need to tell you how many are hoping to take your place. I only speak of this now because of myconcern for Centoi. Duke Aony will make a claim for the throne, and he will no doubt try to solidify his power through marriage. He’ll be thinking of your niece even if King Ryenil is not.”
