He’d survived yet another assassination attempt, but it could have been so much worse if Soren hadn’t been there.
Vanya searched for the warden, finding Soren standing outside the circle of people hovering around him, worried about Vanya the emperor, not the man beneath the crown. Soren caught his gaze, held it, before giving a slow nod of acknowledgment.
And then he left, slipping away, as if he knew he didn’t belong in the epicenter of Solaria’s government even if he’d long since burrowed his way into Vanya’s heart.
Eight
SOREN
The day after Vanya survived yet another attempted assassination, Soren woke with the dawn in his room at the Ashionen embassy at the center of the city. The embassy hadn’t been opened in quite some time, as the advance team of diplomatic aides and royal servants had discovered while the rest of them were at the Imperial estate. The room Soren had been given when they finally arrived was far more comfortable than the barracks on the Warden’s Island, aired out or otherwise.
Still, the bed had felt empty after having Vanya within reach yesterday, and Soren didn’t think anyone would blame him for wanting to return to the Imperial estate. The Royal Guards who had flown with them to Solaria didn’t seem keen on him leaving alone, but Soren was adamant about going without an escort.
The lieutenant who blocked his velocycle didn’t know a word of Solarian, but Soren could still see her stubbornness. She pointed insistently at the black motor carriage with the Ashionen flag painted on its side, clearly wanting him to be driven in that rather than drive himself.
Soren very deliberately started the engine on his velocycle and pointed at the closed gate. “Open it.”
He spoke in the trade tongue, hoping she understood him. Judging by the way she planted her fists on her hips, she probably hadn’t.
“What is going on?” Dariush asked brusquely from the porch, speaking in Solarian, which was a relief to Soren.
“I’m leaving for the Imperial estate,” Soren said in the same language, not looking away from the lieutenant. “She’s in my way. Tell her to move and for the others to open the gate.”
“It’s early, Your Royal Highness.”
“The Solarians will let me in.”
The sun might barely be above the horizon, but he knew the Imperial estate would be bustling with people already. Raiah always woke early during the summer months, intent on packing so many activities into the hours of the day, to say nothing of Vanya’s schedule. Soren only wanted to get there before Vanya was tied up in government work. He wanted to know that Vanya was all right after everything that had happened. Soren had wanted so badly to stay yesterday, but he knew he hadn’t the right to.
Soren turned his head to look at Dariush, seeing the ambassador wasn’t dressed for the day yet and had merely thrown on a dressing gown before stepping outside in his house slippers to address what was going on in the forecourt. He squinted against the bright morning sunlight, the day warm already, a precursor for the humid heat that would arrive before noon. After a moment, Dariush said something in Ashionen, his tone firm, which left the lieutenant looking displeased when she snapped something back.
“I presume the Royal Guard will not be able to follow where you go within the Imperial estate?” Dariush finally said to Soren, switching to Solarian.
“There is a reception room they would be confined to. Aside from that, I know this city better than they do. If they try to follow me, I’ll lose them in the streets,” Soren warned.
“No need to make their jobs more difficult. I’ve asked them to remain, but please do let us know if you will return tonight or not. The queen made it clear that you are leading the delegation this time, but we want to make sure you are safe while doing so.”
“I’ll ring you.”
With that decided, Soren kicked up the stand and revved the engine, not caring if he woke up anyone sleeping inside the embassy. The lieutenant stepped out of his way, a pinched expression on her face. Soren left them all behind in favor of the Solarian streets.
The coastal city came alive as the sun crept into the sky, salt lingering in the early morning breeze. It was a nice ride, truth be told, but not nice enough to settle his nerves. By the time Soren pulled up in front of the closed gates of the Imperial estate, the tightness in his gut had gotten worse. For all his words to the Ashionens, he wasn’t sure if Vanya would want to see him after yesterday.
But thepraetorialegionnaires standing guard at the gold-painted gates still opened the way for him. Letting out a soft breath, Soren drove into the forecourt and parked his velocycle beneath one of the trees lining the arcade. He’d left the embassy only carrying his weapons and travel antidote kit, the leather bag slung over one shoulder and banging against his hip as he walked. He wasn’t sure if Vanya would need it, but Soren wasn’t taking any chances.
Caelum met him at the entrance into the estate, the Chief Minister dressed for the day in his robes of office and eyeing Soren with an unreadable expression. “It is early.”
Soren gestured vaguely at his kit. “I know your magician saw to Vanya yesterday. I brought my kit in case he needed further attending to.”
“His Imperial Majesty is in the bathhouse at the moment, on orders from Intira. He is not expecting you.”
“May I see him?”
He had no right to ask, not after he’d finally given up the vow, but Soren asked anyway. Standing there in the shadow of the porch, in a world he had no right to walk through anymore, all Soren could hope was that Caelum would let him pass.
After a moment, Caelum inclined his head and stepped aside, gesturing at the open door. “I assume you know the way?”
Soren had lived in Oeiras for weeks at a time in the past, back when he’d gone to where Vanya was after his duty to the borders was done. “I do.”
