Allegiance (River of Souls 3)

So bland, so controlled.

What did I expect?

No, better if she did not pursue that question.

“I would be pleased to,” she said.

“Thank you. Let us meet in the stables.”

He glanced at her, offered the barest of smiles. That unnerved her more than his absent tone, or the way his attention veered back to the window. With a curtsy and a polite reply to his order—because it was an order, however gently phrased—she exited the office and returned to her rooms. Her maids had already laid out the new riding costume, delivered by the seamstresses the day before.

He expected me to submit. How dare he?

He dared because he held the advantage. So her father and grandfather would have instructed her. With a shudder, Valara gave herself over to her maids’ attentions. They must have read her mood from her face, because they gave silence for silence and worked even more quickly than usual.

Dressed anew, she exited her rooms to find a runner waiting—an older man, with the marks of knives hidden beneath his livery. She followed him in double-time to the stables, where Miro already waited. He, too, had changed his clothing, from the elegant blue silks of his morning costume to plain black trousers and shirt, armed with swords and knives and leather guards reinforced with steel. The duke had vanished, replaced by the soldier.

A stable boy assisted her to mount. They had given her a sweet-tempered mare with slim black legs and a coat of burnished bronze. Karasek mounted a gray stallion, evidently fresh and in a troublesome mood. Karasek even smiled as he brought the horse under control. He exchanged a laughing comment with the stable boy. Valara took the hint and smiled down at her own attendant.

It was just like Morennioù, she thought. We play our parts for the audience. We reserve the truth for our private moments, and that only seldom.

She wondered if today would be such a moment.

“Cousin,” Miro said.

His voice was cool and contained. She matched her reply.

“My lord duke.”

They crossed the stable courtyard and passed through the gates to the outer grounds. From there, Miro chose a path into the rising hills to the n

orth. By now the sun shone almost directly overhead, and the air was bright and heavy with its warmth. Once they entered the forest, however, Valara felt a chill. She drew a deep breath of cool air, laden with damp and the sharp scent of pines.

At last they gained the ridge overlooking the valley. Miro reined his horse to a walk. Here the path widened, and Valara brought her mount next to his.

“You have news,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Skoch received two messengers last night after we spoke. My own patrols reported the presence of strangers camped in the hills. Don’t worry,” he said, when she exclaimed. “They were spotted in the southern range, not here. They attempted to stop your companion from leaving, but they were not successful.”

It took her a moment to parse what he said.

“Then Ilse—”

“Has gone, yes. I sent Bela to guard her.”

She pressed a hand against her forehead. Too much, too fast. She was not used to so much information given so freely. “Tell me again what happened. Please.”

It was a short account. Lord Raul Kosenmark had survived the attack on Hallau Island. With Lir’s jewels returned to the magical plane, Ilse wished to return home. He had intended to send Ilse home by ship from Lenov, but Skoch’s arrival had overturned those plans. Ilse herself had not depended on Miro and had set off alone.

“I suspected she might. I sent Bela Sovic with money and gear. We have no guarantee they will make the border, but I wanted to give her every chance.”

For a moment, she heard nothing beyond the echo of her blood within her ears. He had betrayed her. He had let this woman go, in spite of knowing Valara’s need to have a witness, a companion, when she returned to Morennioù.

“You lied to me,” she said softly. “You betrayed your kingdom. She will tell her king of the jewels, that Károví has no defense. You cannot pretend—”

“I pretend nothing.” His voice was sharp and short. “Veraene—” He released an audible breath, and when he continued, it was in a softer voice. “I cannot tell if there will be war between us. I do know that long ago, I captured a princess of Károví and executed her at Leos Dzavek’s command. She was bound for Veraene with an emissary from the emperor. He and she hoped to negotiate a peace. This time, for my honor and for Károví’s, I must not stand in her way.”

His face was averted, as though he spoke to a larger audience than just her. Or perhaps to the gods. She shivered. She wanted nothing more to do with the gods.