Soul of the Fire (Sword of Truth 5)

No one was going to think her “prissy.” They were going to think she was proclaiming herself available to invitation.

“Teresa, you can wear another. The red one with the V neck. You can still see… see enough of your cleavage. The red one is hardly prissy.”

She showed him her back, folding her arms in a pout. “I suppose you will be happy to have me to wear a homely dress, and have every other woman there whispering behind my back at how I dress like the wife of a lowly assistant to a magistrate. The red dress was what I wore when you were a nobody. I thought you would be happy to see me in my new dress, to see how your wife can fit in with the fashion of the important women here.

“But now I’ll never fit in around here. I’ll be the stuffy wife of the Minister’s aide. No one will even want to talk to me. I’ll never have any friends.”

Dalton drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He watched her dab a knuckle at her nose. “Tess, is this really what the other women will be wearing at the feast?”

She spun around, beaming up at him. It occurred to him that it was not so unlike the way the Haken girl, down in the kitchen, had beamed at his invitation to meet the Minister of Culture.

“Of course it’s like what the other women are wearing. Except that I’m not as bold as they, so it shows less. Oh, Dalton, you’ll see. You’ll be proud of me. I want to be a proper wife of the Minister’s aide. I want you to be proud. I’m proud of you. Only you, Dalton.

“A wife is crucial to a man as important as you. I protect your station when you aren’t there. You don’t know what women can be like—petty, jealous, ambitious, scheming, treacherous, traitorous. One clever nasty word to their husband, and soon it’s on every tongue. I make sure that if there is a nasty word, it dies quickly, that none dare repeat it.”

He nodded; he knew full well that women brought their husbands information and gossip. “I suppose.”

“You always said we were partners. You know how I protect you. You know how hard I work to make sure you fit in at each new place we go. You know I would never do anything to jeopardize what you’ve worked so hard to gain for us. You always told me how you would take me to the best places, and I would be accepted as the equal of any woman.

“You’ve done as you promised, my husband. I always knew you would; that was why I agreed to marry you. Even though I always loved you, I would never have married you had I not believed in your future. We have only each other, Dalton.

“Have I ever made a misstep when we went to a new place?”

“No, Tess, you never have.”

“Do you think I would recklessly do so, now, at a place as important as this? When you stand on the brink of true greatness?”

Teresa was the only one in whom he confided his audacious ambitions, his boldest plans. She knew what he intended, and she never derided him for it. She believed him.

“No, Tess, you wouldn’t jeopardize all that. I know you wouldn’t.” He wiped a hand over his face as he sighed. “Wear the dress, if you think it proper. I will trust your judgment.”

The matter settled, she shoved him toward the dressing room. “Come on, now, change your clothes. Get ready. You will be the most handsome one there, I just know it. If there is any cause for jealously, it is I who will have it, for all the other wives will be green with envy that I have the prize of the household, and it is you who will get the whispered invitations.”

He turned her around and grasped her by the shoulders, waiting until she looked up into his eyes. “You just stay away from a man named Stein—Bertrand’s guest of honor. Keep your… your new dress out of his face. Understand?”

She nodded. “How will I know him?”

He released her shoulders and straightened. “It won’t be hard. He wears a cape of human scalps.”

Teresa gasped. “No.” She leaned closer. “The one you told me about, come from beyond the wilds to the south? From the Old World? Come to discuss our future allegiance?”

“Yes. Stay away from him.”

She blinked again at such startling news. “How stimulating. I don’t know that anyone here has ever met such an interesting foreigner. He must be very important.”

“He is an important man, a man with whom we will be discussing business, so I’d like not to have to slice him into little pieces for trying to force you to his bed. It would waste valuable time, waiting for the emperor to send another representative from the Old World.”

It was no idle boast, and she knew it. He studied the sword as intently as he studied the law. Dalton could behead a flea on a peach without disturbing the fuzz.

Teresa smirked. “He need not look my way, and he’ll not sleep alone tonight, either. There will be women fighting over the chance to be with so outrageous a man. Human scalps…” She shook her head at so astounding a notion. “The woman who wins his bed will be at the head of every invitation for months to come.”

“Maybe they would like to invite a Haken girl to tell them how exciting and grand it was,” Dalton snapped.

“Haken girl?” Teresa grunted dismissively at such whimsy. “I think not. Haken girls don’t count to those women.”

She turned once more to the important part of his news. “So, no decision has yet been made? We still don’t know if Anderith will stick with the Midlands, or if we will break and join with Emperor Jagang from the Old World?”

“No, we don’t yet know how it will go. The Directors are divided. Stein only just arrived to speak his piece.”

She stretched up on her toes to give him a peck. “I will stay away from the man. While you help decide the fate of Anderith, I will watch your back, as always, and keep my ears open.”

She took a step toward the bedroom, but spun back to him. “If the man has come to speak his side of matters…” Sudden realization stole into her dark eyes. “Dalton, the Sovereign is going to be here tonight, isn’t he? The Sovereign himself will be at the feast.”

Dalton took her chin in his fingertips. “A smart wife is the best ally a man can have.”

Smiling, he let her seize him by his little fingers and tug, pulling him into the dressing room. “I’ve only seen the man from afar. Oh, Dalton, you are a marvel, bringing me to such a place as I would get to break bread with the Sovereign himself.”

“You just remember what I said and stay away from Stein, unless I’m with you. For that matter, the same goes for Bertrand, though I doubt he’d dare to cross me. If you’re good, I’ll introduce you to the Sovereign.”

She was struck speechless for only a moment. “When we retire to bed tonight, you will find out just how good I can be. The spirits preserve me,” she added in a whisper, “I hope I can wait that long. The Sovereign. Oh, Dalton, you are a marvel.”

.

While she sat before a mirror on her dressing table, checking her face to see what damage he had wrought with his kisses, Dalton pulled open the tall wardrobe. “So, Tess, what gossip have you heard?”

He peered into the wardrobe, looking through his shirts, looking for the one with the collar he liked best. Since her dress was a golden color, he changed his plans and decided to wear his red coat. Best, anyway, if he was to put forth an assured appearance.

As Teresa leaned toward the mirror, dabbing her cheeks with a small sponge she had dragged across a silver container of rose-colored powder, she rambled on about the gossip of the house. None of it sounded important to Dalton. His thoughts wandered to the real concerns with which he had to deal, to the Directors he had yet to convince, and about how to handle Bertrand Chanboor.

The Minister was a cunning man, a man Dalton understood. The Minister shared Dalton’s ambition, if in a larger, more public sense. Bertrand Chanboor was a man who wanted everything—everything from a Haken girl who caught his eye to the seat of Sovereign. If Dalton had any say, and he did, Bertrand Chanboor would get what Bertrand Chanboor wanted.

And Dalton would have the power and authority he wanted. He didn’t need to be Sovereign. Minister

of Culture would do.

The Minister of Culture was the true power in the land of Anderith, making most laws and appointing magistrates to see them carried through. The Minister of Culture’s influence and authority touched every business, every person in the land. He held sway over commerce, arts, institutions, and beliefs. He oversaw the army and all public projects. He was the embodiment of religion, as well. The Sovereign was all ceremony and pomp, jewels and exquisite dress, parties and affairs.

No, Dalton would “settle” for Minister of Culture. With a Sovereign who danced on the cobweb Dalton thrummed.

“I had your good boots polished,” Teresa said. She pointed to the other side of the wardrobe. He bent to retrieve them.