Chapter 30
Quentin hated everything about Idrix.
He hated the odorous marshes to the scraggly trees dripping with clinging moss. He even hated the heavy humidity that made his red hair stick uncomfortably to his forehead and the back of his neck.
“For being on a diplomatic mission, you all certainly do travel quite armed.”
Oh, that’s right. Most of all, Quentin hated the hooded bastards who’d managed to surprise them on the trail.
First the rebels in Kreah, and now these Idrixians. Quentin was off his game, and he hated that, too.
He bared his teeth at the Idrixian sitting before them in a simple chair. The canvas tent was worn but well-made, the remaining I similar. Not much was known of the Idrixians, but it had become quickly apparent that these marsh dwellers were nomadic.
“Maybe we travel armed in case foreign fucks try ambushing us on the road—” A hard kick to his shin caught the rest of Quentin’s words in his throat. He met Delaynie’s hard blue glare and could almost hear her words in his head.
Shut your mouth, before you make this worse.
Quentin didn’t really care about making it better. Or, at least, he wouldn’t, if it had just been him and Sebastian. But with Ciana and Delaynie there…
He ground his teeth, releasing his breath in a hiss as he glanced at the worn rugs covering the ground.
The Idrixian chuckled, a sound that scraped against Quentin’s skin.
“Perhaps if you knew the marshes better, Onitan, we wouldn’t have been able to disarm you so easily.” He leaned back, the chair creaking, a contemplative look crossing his bearded face. His moss-green eyes surveyed their group—at their weapons piled beside him.
“I am curious, though,” the Idrixian drawled. His accent was different from the one in Kreah; a little coarser, less melodic. “Why does the Queen of Onita now suddenly want a diplomatic relationship with her neighbors? Except for restricted trade, those borders have been closed for centuries.”
“What our queen does is no one’s business but her own.” Sebastian’s answer was clear as he lifted his chin. Ever the dutiful captain.
Delaynie rolled her eyes, and Quentin had to stifle his grin.
The Idrixian chuckled again. “That may be so,” he said. “But if you won’t share your intentions, then I’m not particularly inclined to help you.”
“What’s your name?” Ciana blurted. All eyes swung to her, and a bright red stain spread across her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I-I only mean, perhaps we should all introduce ourselves. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here.”
The Idrixian stared at Ciana before nodding slowly. “Perhaps you have a point.” He shifted again in his chair. “After all, we have no quarrels with Onita. Maybe we should start over.”
Ciana nodded emphatically. “Yes. I agree.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m Ciana Visseau, one of the Queen’s Ladies. This”—she rested her other hand on Sebastian’s forearm— “is Sebastian. Captain of the Queen’s Armature.”
The Idrixian sat forward, intrigued. “A member of the Armature?” His gaze turned scrutinizing before humor flashed. “Perhaps I expected more.”
Quentin ground his teeth again.
The Idrixian swung his attention to him. “And you? Another Armature, or just an under-fed guard dog?”
This fucker.
Before he could retort with something extremely regrettable, Delaynie curled her soft fingers around his arm.
“Quentin is another of the Queen’s Armature,” she said, her voice cool.
“And I’m Delaynie, another of the Queen’s Ladies.
While we wish to explore diplomacy with you and Idrix, we also don’t appreciate the disrespect.
We speak with the authority of our queen; whatever attitude you would show to her is what we expect for us. ”
The tent fell into tense silence. The Idrixian raised a dark brow. Quentin held his breath, eyes darting between the seated man and his baldric lying in the weapon’s pile at his feet.
Could he get there fast enough? Before the other guards in the room could react?
The corner of the Idrixian’s mouth kicked up in a grin.
“I like you,” he said. “You speak direct and true. I appreciate that.” He stood, crossing his arms behind his back. “I am Sunil, Captain of the Tumala Tribe Rangers. I also speak with the authority of my neta.”
What? Quentin shared a confused glance with his companions.
Sunil frowned and sighed. “The leader of our tribe,” he said, “is our neta. We in Idrix do not follow a singular king or queen like you do in Onita or in Vatha.” His lip curled.
“In fact, it is the very reason we rebelled against the Vathan king over one thousand years ago. We now live as a free people organized into independent tribes and enjoy a much more peaceful and simpler existence.”
That explained the tents.
Delaynie took a small step forward, hands folding together. Quentin straightened his spine. “Then it is an honor to meet you, Sunil.” She dipped her head, the picture of courtly grace.
Sunil, though, only snorted. “Please, don’t get all proper on me now. Where’s that fire, Lady?” His mossy eyes glinted. “You still haven’t explained why Queen Ryenne suddenly wants to reopen the borders. What has changed from the prior centuries?”
Quentin blinked. Ryenne?
The realization struck him like a brick. Much of Onita still didn’t know they had a new queen. How would a neighboring kingdom, one who hadn’t had direct contact with Onita in over three hundred years, know that either?
He shared a wide-eyed glance with Sebastian. How were they going to explain this?
“Queen Ryenne is dead.”
Quentin swallowed. Like that, he supposed.
Sunil narrowed his eyes on Delaynie, who only held her head proudly.
“Ryenne is dead?”
Delaynie nodded solemnly. “Yes. Onita has a new queen. We serve Mariah Salis, Eleventh Queen of Onita. She is fully ascended, crowned, and carries all the authority to treat with the people of Idrix.”
Sunil rocked back on his heels, tapping a finger against his arm. Something passed across his expression, an unreadable look that made the hair on the back of Quentin’s neck stand on end.
“Interesting,” he finally said. “What is it, exactly, that this new queen hopes to gain from Idrix?” He glanced down at the pile of weapons at his feet, then at both Quentin and Sebastian.
“Expanding her territory, perhaps? Maybe she sent you four here to learn more about Idrix and its defenses. Maybe if I let you go, I’ll have an Onitan army marching on my tribe by the next cycle of the moons. ”
“You have to be delusional if you think Mariah would want anything to do with these ass-stenched swamps,” Quentin snarled through his teeth. His fingers twitched, really missing the weight of his baldric across his chest. Sebastian hissed something at him, but he wasn’t listening.
What he wouldn’t give to slice into this fucker right here—
Sunil took a step closer to Quentin. His yellow-green cloak, made in the same colors as the marshes, swirled around his feet. He surveyed Quentin’s face before giving him a wide grin.
“Even more interesting,” Sunil said, “that you speak of your queen so informally.”
“We all do, Sunil,” Delaynie interjected sharply. Sunil turned to face her with a lifted brow. “Mariah doesn’t think herself superior to her court. We obey when we must, but we work together.”
Sunil held her glare for a moment. He shrugged, stepping away from Quentin. “What do I know? We haven’t had any direct contact with the Onitan court in so long. I’m simply looking out for my people—you understand.”
“Yes. I understand.” Quentin turned his head at Delaynie’s quiet, deadly tone. “I understand how secluded from our country your people have been. But not secluded enough, it seems, to not do secret trades with the queen’s enemies.”
Sunil narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Delaynie’s chin lifted further. The cool demeanor of the perfect, polished Lady fell away, replaced by something wilder. Fiercer. Dangerous.
Quentin would be lying if he denied that his blood heated at the way her blue eyes flashed, at the way her auburn hair caught the firelight.
“Have you ever heard of the drug called uxosil, Sunil?”
Sunil stiffened. His jaw went slack. “How do you know of uxosil, Lady?”
Delaynie’s lip lifted, just the barest hint of a snarl.
“Let’s just say my queen once told me a story about a rare drug that was sold to her enemies from an Idrixian supplier.
A drug that was used on her to try to get her to break.
” The set of her shoulders was rigid. “It’s good for us all that Mariah is stronger than anything weak men throw at her. ”
Sunil didn’t even try to hide the stunned horror on his face. He ran a hand over his beard, swallowing thickly. “They…your queen was drugged with uxosil?”
“She was. Her enemies told her themselves, the idiots.”
“That is—” Sunil swallowed again. “That’s impossible.”
“Impossible or not, Sunil, it happened. And with the help of one of your countrymen.”
Sunil took a staggered step back, collapsing into his chair. His guards around the room exchanged glances, their nervousness and shock clear beneath their masks.
“Luckily for you,” Delaynie said, forging on, “our queen is willing to forgive the injustices of the past. Only so long as we—her court—are allowed to pass freely through Idrix. We won’t stay long; we’re looking for something, but as soon as we know it’s not here, we’ll leave.
And our passage will be safe and uninterrupted. ”
The silence in the tent was broken only by the crackling hearth.
Quentin still watched Delaynie, but she never once tore her stare from the seated Idrixian captain.
He was confused about what she’d said—he’d never heard of this uxosil, or whatever horrible thing Mariah had told Delaynie about her imprisonment in Khento—and while he planned to ask later, he was also a bit out of words.
Because Delaynie was remarkable.
“Uxosil is supposed to be an Idrixian secret.” Sunil’s soft words pulled Quentin’s gaze from the Lady beside him.
“A ritual herb that we keep in small supplies, only to be used under the supervision of a neta. For one of our own to sell it past our borders…” He shook his head.
“This is as much an affront to our culture and way of life as it was an attack on your queen.” He met Delaynie’s gaze unflinchingly.
“I cannot speak for all Idrix, but on behalf of the Tumala Tribe and my neta, your queen has our sincerest apologies. If this traitor came from within our own ranks, I promise that we will do all we can to root them out.”
Delaynie dipped her head. “That means a great deal to us.”
Sunil nodded in return, still visibly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat. “You also mentioned looking for something? Here, in Idrix?”
“Yes.” Ciana stepped forward, shoulder brushing Delaynie’s. “Information, mostly. From the time of the First War.”
“The First War?” Sunil chuckled. “You won’t find anything that old in Idrix. We keep no permanent libraries. Our only knowledge is kept in our connection to the earth and the marshes, and the compounds passed down through generations.”
“You mean poisons.” Delaynie’s tone was biting.
Sunil smiled sheepishly. “Yes, Lady. I mean poisons.” He turned back to Ciana. “If knowledge that old is what you’re after, the Vathan library is where you’ll need to go. But—”
“I know,” Ciana said abruptly. “We plan to approach the Vathan King with terms he cannot refuse.”
Quentin cut his gaze sharply to the golden-haired Lady. What was she talking about? He knew of no such terms.
He shared a look with Sebastian. The other man didn’t know, either. Though the stern line of Sebastian’s brow and the purse to his lips told Quentin that Sebastian would be finding out what, exactly, the girls had been keeping from them.
Sunil shrugged. “That’s your gamble. I certainly won’t try to dissuade you.” He swept his gaze across the group. “Besides knowledge, what else do you need while in Idrix?”
Delaynie hesitated, the first sign of uncertainty she’d shown the entire conversation. Quentin opened his mouth but closed it after a moment. His skin pricked under the watchful gaze of the captain’s guards. His previous anger had cooled, but he knew his words still rang in the air.
Perhaps he wasn’t the best at this diplomacy business.
Thankfully, they had Sebastian with them. “We would be much appreciative of a place to rest and get clean from the road. Just for the night—we won’t overstay our welcome.”
Sunil nodded. “Then it’s done.” He waved to a guard who slipped silently out of the tent. “I will also arrange an escort to accompany you to the Vathan border. They will keep you from encountering any more trouble with other rangers or tribes.”
“Thank you, Sunil.” Delaynie smiled, a trace of her hidden warmth slipping back into her features.
Quentin dragged his stare from her face, landing on the pile of weapons still on the floor by Sunil’s feet. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he lifted his gaze, catching the captain’s attention, and raised a brow.
Sunil chuckled. “All right, Armature. You can have your weapons back.” Quentin nearly lunged for the pile, running his hands over his worn leather baldric. He slipped it back over his chest as Sebastian collected his sword at a more leisurely pace.
“Perhaps there are things the tribes of the marshes can teach you,” Sunil said, amusement in his voice. “Once your journey is over and your queen has what she needs, maybe you can return so we can share the knowledge we do have.”
“That’s very generous,” Sebastian said, nodding respectfully. Quentin only grumbled.
Sure, he wanted to learn how they moved so silently over the soft, wet ground. He’d thought he was good at blending in, but after the incident in Desva, and now this…
“Maybe,” Quentin finally said, so soft his voice was almost inaudible.