CHAPTER 24 #2
“I’m glad you agree,” he says, “Now, can you explain to me how Shivaria came to the conclusion that you and I are sharing a bed?”
The female tenses, paling notably when she says, “I’m sure I never meant to give her that impression.”
The general’s lips tease the lobe of my ear, and he whispers just loud enough for her to hear, “Do you believe her?”
Is he really asking me? I turn my head and meet his eyes. But he already knows the answer. I didn’t believe him because of her and what she said to me.
He kisses the bridge of my nose and says softly, “Neither do I.”
“Kishek,” the general calls.
The male must have been waiting for the summons as he’s in the room before I’ve even seen him coming through the door.
“Are there any empty cells in the barracks?” the general asks.
“Many,” Kishek says with an all too eager smile.
“You can’t be serious,” Siserie scoffs, “It was a harmless prank. I am no spy. I didn’t even read it!” She points at the folded paper, discarded by the general.
“You misunderstand me completely,” the general assures her.
She lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Xeyvian.”
“I’m not sending you to the barracks for the missive you stole,” he says, “Despite the fact that it is the property of the crown. I’m sending you there because you robbed me of two days I will never get back with mi’ajna.”
What is happening?
Even Kishek looks shocked, his eyes bulging at the declaration.
“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Siserie,” the general lowers his tone in warning, “If you ever break into my chambers again, I will send you to Brax. And if you ever interfere with Shivaria again, in any way that she or I find distasteful, I will have Riesh bind your gift and ship you off to La’tari. ”
She pales at the last and even I find it a little harsh.
I have no doubt it would be a death sentence in either case.
Kishek claps his hand around her arm and drags her out of the room, the thick wood of the door he closes behind them muffling her protests.
I puff out a breath, rolling my shoulders.
At least now I know the male isn’t in league with her family.
It could have proved a difficult complication considering all I learned at their estate.
The general turns me to face him, tucking a stray curl behind my ear when he says, “I’ll leave the duration of her punishment up to you.”
My brows shoot up and I briefly debate refusing the offer, before thinking better of it.
He is making me a gift of her punishment, for the way that she treated me.
It won’t kill her to stay in a cell for a few days, though I’m not entirely sure whether she will be serving the general’s sentence or my own.
He meets my eyes with a gentle but determined stare. “There is no one else. I swear it.”
I break his gaze, my eyes falling to the floor thoughtfully and perhaps under the weight of a small amount of shame.
I tell myself that he has given me plenty of reason not to trust him, then remind myself that none of it matters.
My excuses are gone, and he is a direct line to the king, to fulfilling my mission.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks.
I find my body tense as I reconsider his offer, unsure of exactly what it is he is asking for, and still entirely unsure how much I’m willing to give the male.
“I have no expectations of you,” he assures me, and I wonder when I became so easy for him to read. “I’d just like to have you to myself for a little while.”
“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” I snark, “The La’tari ship—”
“I can make arrangements with Awri if you’d rather not sleep here again.” He sounds like he regrets the words even as they slide off his tongue, and I can’t help but wonder if he could have made those same arrangements last night.
“Just sleep?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m not asking for more.”
The thwack of knuckles against the tall panels of the door draws his attention from me.
“Just, consider it, please,” he says, before reluctantly removing me from between his thighs and moving toward the door.
Awri sweeps in, offering me a cheerful smile, and my eyes snag on her leathers.
Not just the leather pants she’d acquired from the stables for our hunt, but a tall pair of leather boots, the same as my own, are laced tightly around her calves.
Over the top of her cobalt dress, she wears a dark cuirass.
Her hair is braided and wound into a tidy spiral on the back of her head, enhancing the sharp lines of her features and the pointed tips of her ears. She looks fit for battle.
She giggles after a thorough examination of my face and waves a young man in.
He offers me a stack of folded leather and my toes curl in delight, bunching up the thick furs beneath my feet.
It’s a reaction I don’t take time to consider when I push my nose against them and breathe in the scent of home, of me.
“I think she should have been a warrior, Xey,” Awri says and laughs.
“I’m quite sure she already is,” he replies.
A tingle of unease rushes down my spine as my gaze snaps to his. I shrug off the shiver, relieved when I see the jest in his eyes.
“I’d like Awri to begin training with you in the mornings,” he says, “At least until we solve the riddle of the abandoned ship on the eastern shore.”
He ushers me toward the washroom with a hand on my lower back. “You told me you had a fighting instructor back home, and I’d like to keep those skills of yours sharp.”
A sickening sheen of guilt coats the excitement budding inside me.
I want this. I need this. I am a well-made tool with a single purpose, and any tool can become dull if left discarded and untended for too long.
But the general has no idea of the blade he is honing or the purpose for which it was made.
Like Awri’s trust in me, this will be yet another moment they will come to look back on with regret.
By the time I dress in the black leathers and the dark dress that had been tucked between them, my mood has soured completely.
I flip the long braid over my shoulder when I emerge from the washroom and see Awri waiting patiently by the door.
The muffled voices in the war room tell me the general has resumed his earlier discussions with Riesh and Kishek.
It’s easy to assume they will remain there for the duration of the day, discussing the implications of the ship and the possibility of war.
Awri tips her head toward the door and my brow draws down. “The general said I can’t leave the room.”
“I’m sure he feels you are safe enough with me.” She smiles. “Unless you’d like to train here.” She scans the space, poking at a delicate vase until it tips back on the table, nearly falling over.
“I might,” I huff, “If only to show the male what he’s earned for his demands.”
She laughs and leads me to the sparring ring by the stables.
The grounds feel a little smaller than usual.
By my count, the general must have tripled the exterior guard.
I wonder if the La’tari even considered the difficulties they would add to my mission by all but declaring war.
No doubt they expected to have more time before they were discovered.
The ring is well groomed with a deep layer of fresh sand and a wooden fence around the border.
“Why don’t you show me what you learned from your instructor, and we can start from there,” Awri says.
Careful.
As much as my blood heats, responding to the challenge, today will be a dangerous game of convincing them of my story without becoming a threat. The art of war is something you never stop learning, and the female in front of me has no doubt been training in the art since before I was born.
I tie the panels of my gown below my hip and take up my stance, relieved she hasn’t offered me a weapon.
An armed proficiency would be much harder to hide.
It seems reasonable that a lady in a war-torn country would have at least been trained in the art of self-defense.
So, I widen my stance and give her a nod.
She lunges forward, leaving herself open to a defensive strike, obviously unconcerned with my abilities.
The combination I return is simple, something I learned as a child, and I expect her to dodge it with ease.
I block the strike she throws to my face and continue my thrust with the same arm, landing a blow on her jaw. She staggers back.
“Oh hisht. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
My face contorts and I issue a relieved sigh when she begins to laugh, rubbing the knot in her jaw.
“Well, my brother will be pleased to learn that he was correct in his assessment of your skill,” she says.
I cringe. Riesh has been far too interested in my capabilities since I’d bruised the general’s face.
“Again,” she says, retaking her stance and waving me into the center.
She feigns right, but I’m not watching her feet and the blow is easy enough to dodge. She leaves herself open. This time, I don’t take the opportunity to strike.
“Now you’re holding back.” She doesn’t attempt to hide her annoyance.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
In answer, she whips her fist out again, and this time she makes no effort to pull the punch.
I barely dodge the throw with a twist to the right.
She hooks my ankle with her foot, trying to throw me off balance.
Against my better judgment, and despite everything I told myself when I entered the ring, my reflexes take over.
I grab her arm, twist myself out of the crook of her ankle, and use the momentum from her strike to throw a knee to her abdomen.
She falls to one knee, gasping for the air I’ve expelled from her lungs.
A small group of guards gathers to watch, and a tall fair-skinned female in a soldier’s uniform studies me closely with her ice-blue eyes.
I offer my friend a hand, whispering under my breath, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”