“How far away, then, are they now?” Fortiss asks.
My father shrugs. “From the Tenth House, I’d say two days. Add to that another two to get here, if they ride hard, four if they don’t.”
He smiles, and his expression is hard, but expectant. “So don’t waste too much time on snakes from the west, Lord Protector Fortiss. You have barely more than a week to get your story straight about Rihad. And you’ll need that same week to pull together what fighting men you can, in case the Imperium decides that theydocovet what they see once they get here.”
Chapter 8
We break up shortly after that to return to our own chambers until the great dinner feast. After so muchhonestyin such tight quarters, I’m not especially hungry. Still, I know from experience that, no matter how dire the news, warriors of the realm caneat.
By the time I stalk out of my sleeping chamber and into the sitting room allocated to me, Nazar’s not only waiting for me, but Caleb is, too. I instantly detect a trap, and they don’t wait long to spring it.
Caleb speaks first, waving his right hand at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No. Go back and try again.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about, but that doesn’t make his censure any more tolerable. If Fortiss’s honesty spell doesn’t wear off soon, there’s going to be bloodshed. “I’m the lord of my own house, Caleb. I am not going to show up at a banquet of warriors wearing a dress! No one else is, why should I?”
Caleb folds his arms in a huff, but the most telling response is, as always, the silence that billows around Nazar like an unfurling cloud. I pivot on my heel to glare at him. “What?”
Even when he’s judging me, it’s reassuring just to stand in the presence of the priest of the Tenth House. One day, hopefully, he’ll serve as the priest of the Thirteenth House, should we ever have two stones to build upon each other. For now, however, I’m grateful that he decided to remain behind with me at the First, versus returning with my father to the Tenth. It might have been an easy decision for the itinerant priest, but it’s one that may have lasting repercussions.
Nazar, for his part, puffs on his pipe, a whisp of sweet-smelling smoke curling up to accompany my rebuke. “You’re a woman, Lady Talia,” he informs me, not even trying to hide his amusement. “No amount of warrior clothing will change that.”
“I know I’m a woman!” I grouse. “But where is it written that women may only wear dresses and gowns, while men may wear breeches when it pleases them and robes when it doesn’t? Why could I not show up in a cowl and feathered headdress if it made me happy to do so? I don’t need to wear a gown.”
“You don’t,” Nazar agrees, with such easy capitulation that I already know I’m trapped for all that I cannot see the snare. “Who is in the feasting hall will be put in his place if you come out in the vestments of a man?”
“Well, Tennet for one. Since he is vying to ensure I return to the Twelfth House as his bride, he’s sorely in need of being put in his place.”
“And you would trust a bolt of cloth to do that work in your place?”
“That’s not thepoint, Nazar—” I begin, but he holds up a hand to silence me.
“Who else? The lord protector? Your own men? Would they treat you with greater dignity and respect if you were wearing armor, and diminish and demean you if you stood before them in a gown and jewels if you wished to do so?”
“I don’t wish to do so.”
His hand descends in an easy wave. “That wasn’t the question.”
I scowl at him. “My men know that I’m a woman. And they have seen me fight.”
“They’ve seen you call your Divh.” He nods. “And command a battalion of no less than thirty others, who cleaved to you simply because you called them. What were you wearing when you did so?”
“Blood, mostly,” Caleb puts in helpfully when I don’t respond quickly enough.
“And then a heavy robe, no? Wincing from your injuries, standing beside Fortiss after you awoke for the first time when all the fighting was done.”
“Fair enough. They’ve seen me in something other than battle gear, but this isn’t battle gear. This is simply more comfortable and as formal as Fortiss will be—Tennet too, unless I miss my mark. I’m their equal.”
“You’re their equal whether you show up covered in gold or blood, I agree,” Nazar says. “Who else will take their cues from your attire?”
I wave that off. “Nobody else that I care about.”
“Are there any from the Savasci that remain behind?”
I snort. The rogue band of women fighters who had come to the Tournament of Gold to harry its competitors and steal what they might had become my adopted sisters, but the bulk of their party had returned to the Western Realms to see to their families and extended people and learn what they might about the threat that lay beyond the borders. Still, Nazar’s right. A small group of women have remained, training with me in the hopes they will one day become banded warriors in their own right. “They’ll be at the banquet, for sure. They like to eat.”
“And what will they be wearing?”
“Whatever they want.” I cross my arms defiantly. “They have dressed in gowns or breeches depending on their mood. Gowns allow them to blend.”
