But there was a princess?
Yes, child, a princess. Just like you. A princess strong and brave who visited the stars, and from there she saw a different world and imagined new ones yet to be.
—The Last Testaments of Gaudrel
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
RAFE
“Your Majesty, where is your head?” Sven whispered between clenched teeth.
He knew where it was. The same place it had drifted to countless times these last months, but she had her duties and I had mine.
“Yes, go on, Lord Gandry,” I said, sitting a little straighter in my chair.
I returned my attention to the Barons of the Assembly, where it belonged.
Sven had taken to heart my last words to him back in Morrighan. Words I thought he couldn’t hear, and probably not the last words Gwyneth had in mind. Wake up, you old coot! You’re not dismissed from your duties yet. Wake up, or I’m going to go dump you in a water trough. Do you hear me, Sven? I still need you.
Whenever we argued over some matter now, he reminded me of my confession—that I needed him. It was true. I did. And not just as an adviser.
The Morrighese had kindly deposited him back on our doorstep as soon as he was able to travel. I kept his days short. He still tired easily, but it was a miracle he was alive at all.
After the battle in Sentinel Valley, the long ride back to Dalbreck had given General Draeger and me plenty of opportunities to talk. He told me he was having second thoughts about the betrothal. His daughter was young and bright and creative, and the weight of such a contract might hamper her growth and dampen her spirit. She was only fourteen, after all. With the defeat of the Komizar and my return to Dalbreck assured, the betrothal would prove a distraction to the work ahead of us, and the good of the kingdom was all that mattered, and would I find it mutually agreeable to dissolve the contract?
I had mulled it over, for about five seconds, and agreed.
When the assembly adjourned at last, I returned to my office. Commerce was brisk once again, and the coffers were healthy, in part due to an arrangement with Morrighan, no doubt strongly suggested to them by the queen of Venda. The port of Piadro was granted to Dalbreck in return for ten percent of our profits. It was a beneficial arrangement for both of us.
“Another message has arrived from the Keep of Venda.”
Lia’s right-hand man. Kaden. No doubt he was asking for another escort, more supplies, more of something. But I knew they needed it and wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. Lending a helping hand to their resettlement benefited all the kingdoms.
“Give him whatever he wants.”
“She wants, you mean.”
Yes, she. I knew the requests ultimately came from Lia. But she called equally on the other kingdoms for help too, and we knew the Lesser Kingdoms followed the leads of Morrighan and Dalbreck. We spoke only in messages through our emissaries. It made it easier for both of us. But I heard the reports. Venda was thriving under her reign. I wasn’t surprised. One of their farming settlements was being established just beyond our borders. It made some citizens nervous, but I worked to reassure them. Venda was not the Venda it used to be.
“The Keep has included something with this message. You might want to take a look at it.”
“Whatever it is—”
“Take a look.”
He laid a small package on my desk that was wrapped in cloth and tied up with string, then shoved the message into my hand.
Wagons.
Grain.
Escorts.
The list went on and on. The usual requests.
But at the end, a note from the Keep:
I found this stuffed behind a manger in Berdi’s loft. I think it belongs to you.