HONOVI
The residential building that housed the E’ridian ambassador’s rooms was located several streets over from the embassy itself. The cluster of buildings surrounded an inner courtyard that past attendants had tended to with cuttings from E’ridia. The garden that bloomed there reminded Honovi of home, especially during summer.
He could see it from his bedroom. What he couldn’t see was the street and the trouble that drove up that evening close to midnight. Honovi was abed reading a book for pleasure rather than work when the steward knocked on his bedroom door.
“There’s someone here who is demanding to speak with you,” Milas said through the door.
Honovi lifted his gaze from the book with a frown, glancing at the clock ticking away on the nightstand. “Who?”
“A Clan Storm member asking for aid.”
Honovi immediately set the book aside and climbed out of bed. The sleeping pants he wore hung low on his hips, and he didn’t bother with a shirt. When he opened the door, Milas frowned at him, more for his state of undress than anything else, Honovi assumed. The steward was a member of Clan Sun, the smallest clan in E’ridia, and they were always a stickler for propriety.
“Where are they?” Honovi demanded as he strode down the hallway barefoot.
“The receiving room.”
Honovi made his way to the room on the first floor located near the building’s front door. The receiving room was exactly what it sounded like, decorated with historical objects and E’ridian artwork. Honovi saw none of it when he arrived, all his attention focused on Blaine.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Blaine said tiredly in E’ridian.
Something hot unfurled in Honovi’s chest as he caught sight of the bruises around Blaine’s throat and the rips in his clothes that didn’t come from snagging on a nail or screw. Honovi had so many questions, chief of which was who had harmed his husband and where were they so Honovi could mete out his own form of punishment.
Swallowing back his concern, Honovi glanced at the entrance to the receiving room, where the steward waited in the doorway. “Leave us, please.”
Milas nodded. “I’ll stay awake if you need anything,jarl.”
He stepped back into the hallway and closed the door. The sound of his footsteps faded after a moment. When Honovi knew they were alone, he strode across the room to pull his husband close, cradling Blaine’s face in both hands.
“What happened?” Honovi demanded.
Blaine settled his hands on Honovi’s waist. “I have two cogs in a motor carriage a street over. I need you to take them home while I dispose of the motor carriage. It’s stolen.”
“Blaine.”
“One of them is my duty, and she’s hurt. I need to get her to safety, but I need to hide our trail, and the only person I trust to take my place right now is you.”
Blaine’s voice cracked on the words, and Honovi leaned down to rest his forehead against his husband’s, staring into those tired hazel eyes he’d missed so. “What were you doing that put her at risk?”
“One of her cogs brought information about an apothecary being used as a front by Daijal. We were told debt slaves were being brought in but never coming out. We went to investigate.”
“What did you find?”
Blaine shifted on his feet, and Honovi pulled his hands away, settling them on his husband’s upper arms instead. “We scouted the apothecary and were going to stake it out overnight. But there was a man and a woman in the back room. They somehow knew we were wearing veils, and the woman turned out to be a Blade.”
Honovi’s grip tightened, realizing how close he’d come to losing Blaine that night. “How did you escape?”
Blaine licked his lips, gaze shuttered. “Starfire. But that’s not the worst of it. The Blade was Eimarille’s lady-in-waiting. I’m assuming she didn’t hide her face because she had every intention of killing us.”
An icy knot settled in Honovi’s gut. “You are certain it was her?”
“I’d know her face anywhere.”
“What interest does the crown princess of Daijal have for an apothecary that she would send her closest attendant to it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, and none of them are good.”
Honovi blew out a breath. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll drive your duty home.”
