The Last Warrior. Susan Grant
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rounded belly. “Reach deep for calm. Being upset isn’t good for the baby.”
Aza nodded, trying to slow her gulps of air. She took Elsabeth’s hand and briefly squeezed it in hers. Once, years ago, it would have been an overly familiar, inappropriate gesture. By now it was automatic. They were friends across classes, across cultures, Kurel and Tassagon. But would Aza feel the same if she learned her children’s tutor was a Kurel rebel with the goal of seeing her husband deposed?
“Miss Elsabeth. Pick me up!” Prince Maxim held out his chubby hands, and Elsabeth pulled him up to her hip. Drowsily, Max snuggled close, smelling of powder and milk. Little Princess Sofia climbed onto the queen’s lap, to play with a strand of enormous pearls the color of her skin. Oblivious to the danger swirling around them all, Elsabeth thought, envying the babe’s utter innocence. The maid left, but Elsabeth still could not relax.
“I didn’t know the depth of my husband’s jealousy at first,” Aza said, absently stroking Sofia’s golden hair. “One day, not long before King Orion died, Xim was in an awful rage. He told me that the king, his own father, loved Tao more. He recited a dozen incidents he thought proved it. At the funeral, he showed no grief, none at all. He seemed…” Aza’s gaze drifted away, darkening. “Victorious. It was so odd, even horrifying, as if by dying, his father had lost and Xim had won. I wept that day for Orion, and I wept for my husband. I weep every day for him, Elsabeth. Hate is rotting his soul, Uhrth help me. It’s putrefying his humanity like a dead body left out in the sun. I fear he’ll do harm to my brother, and he’ll do it without a care.”
Elsabeth crouched next to her. “Please. The baby. Go, get dressed for your party, laugh with your brother. Don’t worry about anything. Others will make sure the general is safe.”
“Others will? Who?”
Wrenching hope glowed in the queen’s anguished stare, making Elsabeth regret the words that had just spilled from her lips. She had to be careful or Markam would be executed, Tao would be captured or killed, the ghetto burned and Tassagonia would be no closer to ridding itself of its parasite king.
Elsabeth tried to keep her voice and words as neutral as possible. “Everything will work out, My Queen. You’ll see.”
Their eyes met, and a sort of understanding passed between them. Aza’s shoulders lost some tension, and she drew her daughter closer. Whatever the queen had gleaned from Elsabeth’s gaze was enough.
Elsabeth hoped the knowledge didn’t kill the woman.
“Don’t forget to come fetch me from dinner before the night nurse arrives. I want to see the children before bedtime.”
“I will,” Elsabeth promised.
The queen started to leave, then stopped. “And Elsabeth…?”
“Yes, My Queen?”
“You’re a love for listening to me.”
A pang of guilt. Everything Aza confided went straight to Markam.
The queen left to change gowns and prepare for the banquet. The children were carried away for their naps. Elsabeth remained in the classroom, pulling out a forbidden book and cracking it open to read, as she did many a quiet afternoon in the palace. After all, the children were still too young to endure long hours of learning. Often Aza would find her and ask for a lesson in reading, but always when Xim was far from her chambers. Elsabeth would fill the rest of the boring hours with her nose in storybooks, getting lost in other people’s adventures.
Can I count on you, Elsabeth?
She closed the book and flattened her hand on the cover. The memory of Markam’s request for help ended all hopes of reading. She should be living a safe life as a nice Kurel accountant’s wife, spending the afternoon curled up in a cozy cottage with a favorite book and a cup of honey-tea. Instead she was biding time in a stone fortress, at risk of getting caught in a crime that could see her executed for treason.
At least she’d give them a reason for her execution. Her parents had given them none.
Yes, you can count on me.
CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER WASHING THE ROAD dust from his skin and changing into his formal uniform, Tao arrived in the banquet hall. The bracing days of winter seemed a long way off with such intense light and heat pouring through the windows. Servants had drawn heavy drapes against the suns, blocking out the light but holding in the dense air. A veritable army of other servants perspired as they operated giant cogs and wheels to spin ornate fans overhead, creating a much-needed breeze.
Savory scents made Tao’s belly grumble and his mouth water. He’d eaten reasonably well in the encampments in the Hinterlands—plentiful game, fruits, nuts and vegetables—but it was a soldier’s diet prepared by his men or one of the female camp followers, not palace chefs who’d outdone themselves preparing a boggling array of delicacies. Snatching a piece of pastry-encased roasted meat off an offered tray, he popped it in his mouth, chewing contentedly. Aza was at his side, cheerfully filling him in on the passage of time, the children, her hobbies, yet only the barest details of her marriage, keeping her arm linked with his in the endless crush of well-wishers at the party.
“Savior of us all…”
“Thank you, good sir.”
Dancers spun close. “Warm your bed tonight, sir?” offered a dulcet voice.
“A scented-oil massage,” tempted another with a glimpse of kohl-lined dark eyes.
“I expected gratitude,” Tao confided to his sister, “but they’re treating me like a demigod, for Uhrth’s sake.”
Markam overheard and chuckled. “I told you, Tao, but you wouldn’t believe me.” With a nod at Aza, he turned to leave them. “I will see you later, Tao.”
“You can’t escape, Markam,” Tao said. “Not if I can’t.”
“Some of us still need to work for a living. You, however, are on vacation.”
“Get back here and help me through this.”
Aza pretended to be indignant. “You make my parties sound no better than going to the dentist.”
“Both are a necessary pain, my dear sister.”
Aza pushed at him playfully, her laughter sweet. It did his heart good to see her this way. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but she seemed more relaxed than earlier. “Not to worry,” he assured her. “I’m enjoying myself immensely.”
Markam nodded at Aza, his smile for her gentle, then he strode away, careful to circumvent a troupe of musicians. The singers were belting out a ballad about Tao’s exploits.
They were escorted to a table seating hundreds, Xim at the head, Aza at his right and Tao to the left. Down each side were Xim’s loyalists. The banquet commenced, a circus of food and drink, marred by shallow conversation, overly long stories and competition for the king’s favor amongst those retainers already favored enough to be seated in the hall. Platter after platter was presented, picked over and stuffed into hungry mouths. Limbs from roasted and smoked carcasses were ripped apart and slathered with gravy, and washed down with ale and wine. The pointless excess of palace life, Tao thought, while pretending to enjoy the event for his sister’s sake.
Aza was in her element, making everyone laugh, while Xim alternately tore at his food and studied Tao. Hunting for malice in every word, every action, Tao was sure. As the evening wound down and the amount of wine consumed went up, the king grew more talkative. Out of the blue, he rested his weight on his arms and leaned forward. “Tell me, Tao. You’ve accomplished at twenty-eight Uhrth years what most men haven’t at eighty. What does a man do when he reaches the zenith of his life at such a young age?”
Tao almost choked on the wine he’d just sipped. “I would hope my life is anything but over. While the days of racking up military victories are behind me, the years ahead promise much to look forward