“Why?”
“For a number of reasons.” She shrugs. “The rarest stone on Terr, taken straight from the king’s hoard, one that can easily end the life of a feyn, on the hand of a mortal.” She whistles at the implications. “The general certainly wants to make a statement to anyone that might find you…”
“Durah,” I supply, clearly annoyed.
She rolls her eyes. “Vulnerable, was the word I was looking for.”
My brow draws down thoughtfully when I ask, “Why would the king give him the ring, only so that he could give it to me?”
“You would have to ask the king that question. I’m not sure how it is in La’tari, but in A’kori, the king does what he wants,” she teases.
Maybe Iwillask him. Maybe. There will be plenty to occupy my conversation with her sovereign and though I am truly curious about his motivations as they pertain to the ring, I know we will both be far too preoccupied with the topic of my life.
I glance at my leathers once more before puffing out my frustration. “If we aren’t sparring, what do you intend to do all day?”
I decidedly hate chess. How Riah ever thought this would distract me from our usual morning routine I cannot fathom.
“Again?” she asks gleefully, as she swipes my king off the board.
“No,” I say flatly, “Thank you.”
The sun finally crests the eastern sea and even I have to admit that the staggering number of patrols set upon the grounds seems excessive.
“He’s worried,” I say absently, surveying the uniformed soldiers sweeping the grounds.
“Tonightwouldbe the night,” Riah says, confirming my unspoken fear, and I’m sure everyone else’s, “if the Vatruke want to make trouble.”
“I didn’t get the feeling it was trouble they were after,” I say.
Leaning back in her chair, she shrugs. “They gave up the element of surprise when they revealed themselves to us. No doubt they thought a single feyn escorting her lady would be an easy enough mark.”
“They must be incredibly powerful if they’re willing to risk that kind of mistake,” I say as I reset the board.
She nods, “They are,” then frowns as she considers. “The Vatrukehavegrown comfortable in their power, but they are not foolish. I do not think they will risk revealing themselves among the powerful allies attending this evening.”
What she says makes sense. But then I recall a single moment of their failed ambush that nags at my mind before the memory can fade.
“Why was Kezik looking for the barracks?” I wonder aloud.
It is something I should not have overlooked. I chastise myself for being so wrapped up in the tangled web of my own life that I had not asked myself the question until now. I can tell by the look on her face that she failed to ask herself the same. There is a moment that her eyes drift off in thought, and when her eyes snap up to mine, it is a moment I wish to never relive. The full weight of her own dread fills me as she pushes up from her seat, rushing into the hall without a word.
Before I know where my feet are taking me, I’m standing in the center of the general’s room watching the door latch shut behind her. It is more than the look upon her face that prickles the hair on the back of my neck. Whatever conclusion she’d drawn is concerning enough that she abandoned her post to report it. I’m alone for the first time since the assassin broke into the general’s chambers.
I wait in the quiet stillness of my room, my fists bunching at my sides. Clearly, it’s been too long since I’ve been alone. I struggle to stop the fraying of my nerves as the minutes pass by. With greater effort than I’d like to admit, I collect myself, deciding that the best use of my time is in factnotstaring at the tall wooden doors, waiting for my companion to return.
I remind myself that it is not cowardice to be cautious as I gather my feynstone blades, keeping them nearby as I bathe. I’m opening a tall window in the washroom, letting the steam out into the late morning airwhen the door of the main chamber clicks shut. The hair raises on my arms. Well aware that it is unreasonable to be concerned, I snatch one of my blades and settle it behind my back. Pinching the sharp tip between my fingers I round the door into the main room. Better to catch an intruder off guard than allow myself to be cornered.
I tell myself that no one coming to end my life would use the door off the main hall. Still, my blood sings,caution. Arm tensed to throw the dagger, I puff out a relieved sigh at the sight of Riah.
Pausing in the entry, her eyebrow lifts as I drop the blade to my side. It’s a look I return. What does she expect?
“I’ll be sure to announce myself next time,” she teases.
“Not a bad idea,” I quip.
While I’m certainly curious about the thoughts that took her from the room, I don’t ask. She might not tell me, and even if she were to, I’m sure her king would not look favorably on a human with knowledge of their secrets. I likely already know too much, and the more he finds within my mind to displease him, the more certain my fate will be.
I head back to the washroom when Riah turns to answer a knock at the door. I’m tying a robe at the waist, heading back toward my companion, when my eyes catch on the fresh bundle of dark glossy flowers sitting on the heavy stone slab under the mirror. They are bundled with a pliant vine, and I recognize them at once by their smell.
