Blood of the Fold (Sword of Truth 3)

Richard shot to his feet. “I’ll get you some tea that’s hot.”

“No, please, I don’t want to inconvenience you. And just a sip is all I need, really.”

Richard snatched up the mug and offered it to her.

He watched her lips mold around the rim. He glanced to the tray, striving to put his mind back to business. “What is it you wished to see me about, Duchess?”

After she had taken a sip, she set the mug down, turning the handle back around before him the way it had been. There was a hint of a red print from her lips left on the rim. “Those responsibilities I spoke of. You see, the queen was on her deathbed when prince Fyren was killed, and died herself soon after. The Prince, though he had uncounted bastard offspring, was not married and so had no issue of standing.”

Richard had never seen eyes of such a soft brown. “I’m not an expert on matters of royalty, Duchess. I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Well, what I’m trying to say is that with the queen and her only descendant dead, Kelton is without a monarch. Being the next in the line of succession—the daughter of the queen’s deceased brother—I will succeed to queen of Kelton. There is no one I need turn to, to seek direction in the matter of our surrender.”

Richard struggled to keep his mind on her words and not her lips. “You mean that you have the power to surrender Kelton?”

She nodded. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

He felt his ears redden at the title she had given him. He picked up the mug, seeking to hide as much of his coloring face as possible. Richard realized he had put his lips where hers had been when he tasted the piquant print left on the rim. He let the mug linger as he felt the smooth honey-sweet warmth slide across his tongue. With a shaking hand, he set the mug on the silver tray.

Richard rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. “Duchess, you heard what I had to say. We fight for freedom. If you surrender to us, you will not be losing something, but gaining. Under our rule, for example, it will be a crime for a man to harm his wife, the same as it would be were he to harm a stranger on the street.”

Her smile had a hint of merry scolding to it. “Lord Rahl, I’m not sure even you will ever have enough power to proclaim such to be law. In some places in the Midlands it is only a token fine for a man to kill his wife should she provoke him with any of a list of misdeeds. Freedom would only give men everywhere the same license.”

Richard ran a finger around the rim of his mug. “Harming an innocent, whoever they be, is wrong. Freedom is not a sanction for wrongdoing. People in some lands shouldn’t have to suffer acts that in a neighboring land are a crime. When we are united, there will be no such injustices. All people will have the same freedoms, and the same responsibilities, to live by a just law.”

“But surely you cannot expect that by proclaiming such tolerated customs outlawed, they will stop.”

“Morality comes from the top, such as parent to child. The first step, then, is to set down just laws and show that all of us must live by its maxims. You can never stop all wrongdoing, but if you don’t punish it, then it proliferates until anarchy wears the robes of tolerance and understanding.”

She brushed her fingers through the delicate hollow at the base of her neck. “Lord Rahl, the things you say fill me with a rush of hope for the future. I pray to the good spirits that you succeed.”

“Then will you join with us? Will you surrender Kelton?”

Her soft brown eyes came up in supplication. “There is a condition.”

Richard swallowed. “I have sworn no conditions. Everyone will be treated the same, as I have told you. How could I vow equity if I didn’t live by my word and rule?”

She wet her lips again as fear visited her eyes. “I understand,” she said in a whisper almost lost in the quiet. “Forgive me for thinking to selfishly gain something for myself. A man of honor such as yourself could not understand how a mere woman such as I could sink to such a level.”

Richard wanted to thrust his knife into his chest for allowing fear to haunt her.

“What is your condition?”

Her gaze settled in her lap along with her nested hands. “After your speech, my husband and I were almost home, and…” She grimaced as she swallowed. “We were almost safely home when we were attacked by that monster. I never even saw it coming. I was holding my husband’s arm. There was a flash of steel.” A moan escaped her throat. Richard had to force himself to stay in his seat. “My husband’s insides spilled down the front of me.” She gasped back a cry. “The knife that killed him put three slices in my sleeve as it passed.”

“Duchess, I understand, there’s no need to…”

She held up a trembling hand, imploring silence so she could finish. She pulled up the silken sleeve of her dress to reveal three slices across the flesh of her forearm. Richard recognized the three cuts of a mriswith blade. He had never wished that he knew how to use his gift to heal as much as at that moment. He would have done anything to take the angry red cuts from her arm.

She drew the sleeve down, seeming to read the concern on his face. “It’s nothing. A few days and it will be healed.” She tapped her chest, between her breasts. “It’s what they did to me in here that will not heal. My husband was an expert swordsman, but he had no more chance than would I against those creatures. I will never forget the feel of his warm blood down the front of me. I’m embarrassed to admit that I screamed inconsolably until I could tear that dress off my body and wash the blood from my naked flesh. For fear I’ll wake and think I’m still in that dress, I’ve since had to sleep without any bedclothes.”

Richard wished she had used words that hadn’t put such an explicit picture in his head. He watched the rise and fall of her silken dress. He forced himself to take a drink of tea, only to be confronted unexpectedly with her lip print. He wiped a bead of sweat from behind his ear.

“You were speaking of a condition?”

“Forgive me, Lord Rahl. I wanted you to understand my fear, so you might consider my condition. I was so frightened.” She hugged her arms to herself, causing the dress to fold between her breasts as they pressed together.

Richard looked down at his tray of dinner as he rubbed his fingertips on his forehead. “I understand. The condition?”

She stiffened with courage. “I will surrender Kelton if you will offer me your personal protection.”

Richard looked up. “What?”

“You killed those creatures out front. It’s said that none but you can kill them. I’m terrified of those monsters. If I side with you, then the Order may send them after me. If you will allow me to stay here under your protection until the danger is over, then Kelton is yours.”

Richard leaned forward. “You just want to feel safe?”

She nodded with a slight wince, as if she feared he would lop off her head for what she was to say next. “I must be given a room near yours, so that if I scream, you will be close enough to come to my aid.”

“And…”

She finally gathered the courage to meet his eyes.

“And… nothing. That’s the condition.”

Richard laughed. The anxiety released its constriction of his chest. “You just want to be protected, much as my guards protect me? Duchess, that’s not a condition, that’s merely a simple favor—a perfectly reasonable and proper desire for shelter from our merciless enemies. Granted.” He pointed. “I’m staying in the guest rooms, off that way. They’re all empty. As one who sides with us, you’re an honored guest, and may have your choice. You can have one right beside mine, if you would feel safer.”

She had not even smiled before, in comparison with the radiance that came to her face now. Her hands crossed over her breasts. She let out a huge sigh as if liberated from the greatest of dreads. “Oh, Lord Rahl, thank you.”

Richard brushed his hair back from his forehead. “First thing tomorrow, a delegation, escorted by our troops, will leave for Kelton. Your forces must be brought under our command.”

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“Brought under… yes, of course. Tomorrow. They will have a personal letter from me, and the names of all our officials to be informed. Kelton is hereby a part of D’Hara.” She bowed her head, her dark curls slipping across her rosy cheeks. “We are honored to be the first to join. All Kelton will fight for freedom.”

Richard let out a huge sigh of his own. “Thank you, Duchess… or should I call you Queen Lumholtz?”

She sat back, her wrists draped on the arms of the chair, her hands pendent. “Neither.” One leg slid upward as she crossed it over the other. “You should call me Cathryn, Lord Rahl.”

“Cathryn, then, and please, call me Richard. Quite frankly, I’m getting tired of everyone calling me…” As he stared into her eyes, he forget what he was going to say.

With a coy smile, she leaned forward, one breast slipping past the table’s brink. Richard realized he was sitting on the edge of his chair again as he watched her twist a ringlet of black hair around a finger. He focused on the tray of food before himself in an attempt to control his roving eyes.

“Richard, then.” She giggled, a sound not in the least bit girlish, but both husky and womanly at the same time, and not at all ladylike. He held his breath, lest he sigh out loud. “I don’t know if I can get used to addressing such a great man as the Master of all D’hara so intimately.”

Richard smiled. “Perhaps it will simply take practice, Cathryn.”