Page 8

“ W hat are they doing here?” Caleb practically chokes on his own words as I pull him back behind a farmer’s cart, which is piled high with enough fruits and vegetables to tide anyone from the First House over until the next full market day.

“I don’t know, but what do I do now?” I glance quickly from the oncoming men to Caleb’s face. “Should I go out and greet him? I have no standing in this house. I’m not part of?—”

“Oh, blight,” Caleb interrupts me, peering up toward the doorway of the First House. “Someone’s told Fortiss. Here—onto my back. Get up to the first-level balcony, and act like you’ve been there this whole time.”

“But—”

“They’re all looking up there, you’re over here, and we have this cart as protection. Come on!”

He drags me over to the wall of the First House and braces his legs wide, muttering a stream of curses as I step up onto his thigh, then his shoulder, then latch onto the thin stone columns of the balustrade and drag myself up.

Caleb grabs one of my flailing feet and shoves it high, the extra push giving me the momentum I need to shove my way through the columns and onto the first-story balcony.

I crouch in sudden panic as Fortiss calls out over the courtyard.

“Lord Lemille, well met. You honor the First House with your return.” His voice is calm, strong, and maddeningly sure—like nothing could rattle him, not even the unexpected return of the man who gave me away like a bargaining chip…

and then lobbied for my death. I should be grateful for Fortiss’s steadiness.

I am grateful. But it also makes me feel like I’m three steps behind, and I hate that.

“Lord Protector Fortiss.” My father sounds far haler and heartier than the last time I saw him.

I swallow my rising hysteria as I crouch walk to the far edge of the balcony.

This late in the day, the area is hung with shadows, and I slowly work my way to a standing position, smoothing down my clothes.

Bits and pieces of weevish gunk still hang from various creases, but I don’t intend to get close enough to my father for him to judge my attire.

I draw in an unsteady breath as he keeps talking. “The Tenth House is secure with your men, and I thank you for it, but there is more work to be done. I have returned to offer my aid.”

All this is shouted loud enough to be heard all the way to Trilion, but I understand the posturing for what it is. The men of the Protectorate shout when they could speak, fight when they could debate, and choke off their enemies when they could simply let them breathe and be.

Fortiss strides down a few steps, and only then do I realize he’s not alone. My heart spasms so hard in my chest I nearly black out.

Tennet also stands at the top of the stairs.

Of course he’s beside Fortiss. Where else would he be?

The two of them create the perfect picture of twinned power—one bold and brash, the other nuanced and mysterious.

And now with my father to complete the trifecta of bristling authority, I think seriously about slinking back over the side of the First House, finding my horse, and fleeing to freedom.

I don’t move, of course. But I think about it.

“And we welcome that aid!” Fortiss proclaims loudly. “It has been a good day for warriors giving their troth to the First House and the Protectorate. All are welcome here. Lady Talia, step forth.”

Hearing my name so unexpectedly, I can do little more than stride forward to the edge of the banister. Fortiss raises his fist to his chest and bows over it to me, his gaze meeting mine.

The bow is formal. The grin isn’t. And the look in his eyes…that’s not for anyone to see but me. A whisper in the chaos swirling around me, reminding that he’s with me.

He’s with me.

I swallow down my confusion, glad I’m far enough away that my father can’t see the blood rushing to my cheeks at this overt display of camaraderie.

Fortiss is acknowledging me as a worthy member of his company, and his smirk deepens as I look up at him, as if he somehow knows how I managed to get up onto this empty plaza without going through any doors.

For just a moment our eyes meet, and I really do wonder how he knew where I’m standing. Through everything we endured in the tournament and the weeks since, Fortiss and I have forged a strange and unique bond, but it’s a bond that was quickly wrought and remains untested.

I want to test that bond, though—need to. So, I manage an uncertain smile in return.

Then he has to ruin it.

“Lady Talia has also brought a new warrior to our house today; one I think you’ll be glad to welcome as well. Lord Tennet of the Twelfth.”

He turns with a flourish as Tennet descends the staircase from the doorway of the First to stand beside them.

From my vantage point, I can pick out every difference between the two warriors.

As I suspected, Tennet is nearly of a height with Fortiss, but his burly shoulders and thick chest make him seem bigger, coarser, while his wind-weathered face and thick brown hair are a striking contrast to Fortiss’s smooth black locks and bronzed skin.

Tennet looks like he could pummel rocks into submission, while Fortiss’s body is built for speed and stealth.

Both would be dangerous adversaries, but right now they’re even more dangerous allies.

“Lord Lemille,” Tennet calls out, and it’s a testament to his bulk that he doesn’t even have to raise his voice for it to careen off the courtyard walls.

“Well met. I confess I was expecting to see you under much simpler circumstances than these, but the Light clearly blesses us both. Perhaps now—at last—the contract?—”

Outrage spikes through me at what I know— know !—Tennet is going to say, but for once my father’s arrogance works in my favor.

“Lord Tennet of the Twelfth?” he drawls, cutting Tennet off. “Well met, indeed. It would seem we have much to discuss.”

His tone implies that he plans to do most of the talking, He throws back his cloak and kicks his right foot free of its stirrup, then swings his leg around and dismounts smoothly. He shucks his gloves and hands them to another man, then mounts the stairs to where Tennet and Fortiss stand.

Through all this, he spares me only the slightest, dismissive glance, and I’m keenly aware of my position on this lower balcony as the three of them meet on the landing.

Tennet bows to him with only the barest amount of deference and then surprises me by turning to Fortiss with a bright, easy smile.

“What other house lords are here, Lord Protector Fortiss? Or shall we continue directly to your council chambers to talk further?”

“Only Lady Talia,” Fortiss shoots right back, and because I am looking straight at them, I can see the irritation this response generates across my father’s face.

Tennet, however, only deepens his grin. “Oh, by all means she should join us—eventually. I’m sure she’ll have much to say. She and I have already had such interesting conversation over the hours we’ve ridden together today.”

His words teeter somewhere between insolent and mocking, and I barely keep from curving my hands into fists. I don’t know what game he’s playing at, but it’s serving to antagonize everyone.

Which is undoubtedly his intention.

Fortiss nods curtly, then shoots me a glance with such barely controlled fury it practically scorches me into the stone wall. I manage not to flinch, but give him back my brightest smile. He blinks, then collects himself.

“Then it’s agreed,” he announces. “We’ll get Lemille and you settled, Tennet, then we all can meet—but there’s no rush. We’ll allow you some time to shake the dust of your travels off. My stewards will fetch you in due course from your rooms.”

He waves and two men I hadn’t seen before emerge at the top of the stairs, trotting down halfway as Fortiss beckons the two lords to follow them. Tennet and Lemille willingly comply, and Fortiss waits until they’re almost through the doorway before turning to me.

“Lady Talia? I’ll summon you first. Be ready.”

There’s no doubt that the men at the top of the stairs hear him, but they stoically press on, their momentum carrying them into the First House and blessedly out of my sight. I press my lips together, struggling not to laugh as I nod formally to Fortiss.

This time, he doesn’t seem to share my amusement. With little more than a scowl, he turns and continues into the First House.

I glance down at the courtyard, but Caleb, the traitor, is nowhere to be seen.

I trudge up the stairs to the First House, but I have no interest in returning to my rooms right away.

I can’t slow down—and certainly can’t stop.

I stomp down one corridor, then another, my mind churning.

Why has my father returned to the First House, mere weeks after he left?

Is there any trouble at the borders? Has he decided he needs more support from the First, whether in men or supplies?

And what in the Light must he be thinking about Tennet’s claims… if he even believes him?

Maybe the two of them can spend the night yelling at each other, leaving the rest of us to dine in peace.

Every possibility assaults me, and none of them make me feel any better.

I wind my way through the First House, my path finally taking me toward one of the manor house’s impressive overlooks.

I could use some fresh air, that’s for sure.

Who knows how long it’ll take Fortiss to summon everyone to meet?

I’ll take these precious moments where freedom and possibility are still mine to command.

In this new world of lies and shadow, the only thing a warrior can truly command…is herself.

“Gent,” I whisper as I reach the long corridor near the top of the castle and see the sunshine pouring in through the doors at the far end.

I’ve been thinking about my gorgeous Divh since I saw Marsh hurl Caleb far up into the sun-warmed air.

He’s the only thing that feels right these days. “ Gent .”

In my mind, he howls back, sending a surge of joy through me. I pick up the pace, angling for the wide overlook at the end of the corridor, a short leap away from the open sky. He’ll appear the moment I call him into this plane, I think. He’ll appear, and I will?—

A hand snakes out from the shadows, wrapping around my right arm like a vice, jerking me off my feet. No sooner do I draw breath to scream, than a second hand clamps over my mouth, dragging my head ruthlessly to the side.

“Quiet!” a voice hisses in my ear.

A warrior makes her opponent her weapon.