Page 13

Just as I decide that no answer is in the offing, she surprises me.

“Yes,” she finally says. “I do think you are making the right choice. I understand why all of these clothes would not be your first choice. They’re heavy and awkward and they make it difficult for a woman to move.

Doubtless that was the intention of whoever designed a gown so bulky it takes two men to carry it.

But you look like who you are, Lady Talia.

Just as you looked like a young man determined to win the Tournament of Gold when you first came to the First House and were singled out by Lord Protector Rihad—former lord protector, I mean. ”

I wince. “You were there for that? At the banquet? I’m surprised you remember me.”

“You were kind—to your soldier knight.” At my startled glance, Alis steps back, her face reddening.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed. What I mean, though, is—you fully looked like you belonged that night, but wearing this gown tonight, after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve proven on the battlefield, and given how much Lord Protector Fortiss already values your insights, and how much the council already whispers about you in their closed chambers, you dressing like this, boldly and assured, is the best thing you can possibly do.

As a boy warrior, you deserved a place at Rihad’s table.

But as the lady of your own house, you should dress like you own the table. ”

She meets my gaze with wide eyes as if she’s surprised at her own candor, then wheels around to scurry out the door ahead of me.

I stare for a moment longer, carefully cataloguing everything she’s said—it’s too much to understand now, but there was much in her little speech of vital importance—and not just the business of what I should be wearing.

Why has the council been talking about me? And does Fortiss know about it?

And who else is talking, whether here or throughout the Protectorate?

The faintest thread of concern unspools, embroidering the edges of my thoughts.

I no sooner clip it off in one place then it spins up in another.

There’s something important in Alis’s casual comment…

even if it’s only the offhanded nature of it.

Of course the council would be discussing me.

I’m nothing like anything they’ve experienced in the Protectorate—nothing like anyone has experienced.

There’s definitely a danger here.

I leave my inner chambers far more slowly than I entered them, careful not to overbalance myself, but if Caleb’s startled huff of admiration when I step back into the sitting room is any indication, Alis has the right of it.

“Good?” I ask, and he grins, bobbing his head up and down.

“Absolutely good,” he agrees, and he knows me well enough to say no more.

Nazar is nowhere to be seen, though I could use his counsel before I proceed into the banquet hall like a stuffed doll.

I force Caleb to carry an extra two blades for me just to ease my mind.

He strides down the halls to my left, chattering the whole way about who’s still remaining at the First House, who’s left just today, and how much he’s looking forward to getting all the gossip he can about the Twelfth House from their retainers—the moment he gets them drunk.

Which, from his keen eye, won’t take long.

His words serve me the way they always do, easing my tension at least during the long walk. Still, by the time we reach the great hall, my resolve has all but deserted me.

“Caleb…” I mutter, and he reaches out and grabs my arm at the elbow, just below my warrior band.

“Let me tell you what else Nazar wanted you to know, before you walk in there. He was as surprised as you were that Tennet existed. There’s absolutely no record of him in any of the official Protectorate records, nor in the First House annals of the Twelfth House.

Much like your situation, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that he’s who he says he is, the firstborn unacknowledged son of Lord Orlof.

But it’s also possible that he was sent here on a mission to deceive, to set himself up as the son of a dead lord, a man at arms for a boy who is in no position to rule a house.

A boy who could use someone like you to help him rule his house. ”

“Well, he’s going to be waiting a long time for that to happen,” I say, and Caleb squeezes my elbow.

“I agree, but it would explain a lot of things. Nazar says there’s no way Tennet’s an agent of the Imperium. He’s not some forerunner of the army that’s supposedly coming.”

I glance at him sharply. “Nazar told you about that?” Honesty in this house certainly is proving useful.

“He did, and he’s about chewed off the end of his pipe thinking about what it could mean.

But no matter that he’s not Imperium, Tennet may not be who he says he is.

If, in truth, he’s just a soldier who’s been sent here to drag you off by your hair to force you to honor the marriage contract to Orlof’s actual heir, I mean… that does make more sense.”

“It does…” I wonder if Fortiss has put Tennet to the question already, while the effects of his spell are still in place. I would have.

Caleb waggles his brows at me. “I will say, we need to find a way to get his Divh to show up. That would be instructive don’t you think, if he is actually Orlof’s son?

A Divh of a mountain holding should be large, but not too large, but if he’s the Divh of a first-blooded and firstborn son, they usually grow them bigger for that.

That said, I can’t see a giant on the scale of Gent stamping around the mountains and not being noticed.

We need to see that Divh, tournament or no tournament.

And we can’t wait till we actually have a genuine battle.

I’m back at the coliseum tonight training, and some of the Divhs of the soldiers are impressive.

What if Tennet’s Divh is the size of an overfed cow? ”

I snort. I’d pay good coin to see that. Maybe then I’d stop noticing the way Tennet’s voice curls around my name like it still belongs to him. “I can’t tell you how happy that would make me, I’m not going to lie.”

“You say that now, but we’ve had four weeks of holding our breath, waiting for Rihad’s books to catch on fire in Fortiss’s inner chambers.

They haven’t done that, but even Nazar is saying that Fortiss doesn’t seem quite right, that there’s some strange energy in the halls of the First House.

That’s bad. That has to be bad, right? That feels bad. ”

“All of this feels bad,” I mutter. But I lift my chin up and sail into the room.