CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

King Sasha the Romov.

Could he still call himself a king? Sworn to a rival house, fighting enemies he'd rather embrace as friends, and marching his most loyal soldiers towards a battle in which he knew they were to be on the wrong side of the battle lines. The perversity of Fate knew no bounds, it seemed.

Sasha gave his horse an irritable tap of his heels, and the animal jostled in an equally irate mood. His place in the column of soldiers heading north faltered. Sasha tugged on the reins to step out of line, allowing the Lost Company to continue without him.

Ecclesia's levy to the Lord's Alliance consisted of the majority of the city's armed forces. Seven thousand, mostly unbloodied recruits but with the added presence of the Third Legion as well as six Pearl Knights, their dragons and crews, and a couple of Quartzes acting as forward scouts. The five hundred veterans of the Lost Company marched at their center, but the king was too preoccupied with an insubordinate horse to stay with them in formation.

"To the depths with you," Sasha muttered.

Sasha's horse, an ill-tempered and undisciplined stallion named Havoc, tossed his head and whinnied a scathing retort.

"A paladin ought to have a better relationship with his mount, young lord." Atrus Valdar reached out and gave Havoc a heavy pat between the ears. He'd been riding alongside Sasha for the past few leagues, voicing occasional opinions about the picturesque landscapes of the Protectorate they rode through.

"We've never gotten on well," Sasha replied. "Ecclessia's been lacking decent horses since the Rebellion."

Atrus nodded gravely. "Aye, it was always the Karsts that kept the finer stables if memory serves."

Sasha scoffed. "They wish. Havoc here was supposed to be the ultimate achievement of the Karst stables' pedigree. Best horses we had came from the Orthenks."

"House Orthenk..." Atrus furrowed his brow. "Remind me."

"A minor house but old," Sasha said, his demeanor growing dark. "All dead now. Their estates and stables were torched during the First Legion's assault, and the household was pillaged and put to the sword."

Atrus went quiet and didn't respond for almost a full minute.

"I imagine..." he began slowly, "there remains much resentment between our houses."

Sasha sighed and reminded himself of what his purpose within the Lord's Alliance was. "I cannot deny that, my old teacher. However, as Ecclesia's king I must set aside past grievances."

Atrus frowned. "I don't ride next to kings, boy. I only ride beside knights and paladins. Talk to me as the latter, not the former."

Sasha glanced towards the older knight before facing forward again. "I'd sooner knock your cousin's teeth in before standing across from him at council. Sadly, I don't have that luxury if I want to keep my city from burning."

"It's not us you fear would do the burning," Atrus pointed out.

Sasha turned in his saddle to give Atrus a stern and resolute look. "If all the rest of the world would do the south a favor and leave us out of their squabbles, I'd give Kadmus a fight like none other he's ever had. I would take from him every inch of ground he's stolen. And exact retribution for every Altieri who's died for Valdar ambition. By the waves and tides, your house would know the salt and ice in my veins."

Atrus leaned back and looked down his nose appraisingly. "There, finally. I was wondering when I'd get an honest word out of you."

Sasha faced ahead. "As I said, I don't have that luxury."

Atrus chuckled and clapped Sasha on the shoulder. "Well, if the rest of the world really was staying out of it, you wouldn't have dragons perched on your parapets to hold us back."

Sasha gave Atrus a sidelong glare. "Technically, the Yoras are an Ecclessian house. I gave Enfri her advent."

"Technically correct, but not actually correct, young lord." Atrus chuckled again. "But let's not argue and invite discord. Things are as they are, and I'm pleased to hear you speak your heart. Proves you're true Altieri in my estimation. I'd expect nothing less from Alzander and Istra's son, but I was hoping for it sooner from my former squire."

"A crown makes one faceless," Sasha said quietly.

"Aye, true enough. But should it?"

Sasha raised an eyebrow.

Atrus grinned, showing teeth that had yellowed with age. Two or three were broken from past battles. "I can't recall a squire more eager to prove himself. You had the expectations of your royal father, the standards you placed on yourself because you needed to know you were worthy of his throne. Not to mention that troublesome habit of yours to show off for all the other squire boys catching your fancy."

Sasha rolled his eyes. "First two were accurate, but I never showed off."

"Right..."

"I couldn't. I was never the soldier others were."

"Of course not."

Sasha glowered. "You're starting to irritate me."

Atrus threw his head back and laughed. "Aye, well, you can't fault an old knight his entertainment. Speaking plainly, young lord, you were always too hard on yourself. You might not've been the equal of the Karst boys in swordplay, but you had your mind. The Menscs could outride you, that oafish Urdov could outrun you, and even the common recruits could raise their shields in a line a touch better. Just about the only field you had an advantage as a paladin-in-training was your spellcraft, but it takes more than a quick somatic to make a hand knight great. It takes cunning. It takes perception. Most importantly of all, it takes courage. In those crucial traits, I never trained a better paladin."

Sasha felt warmed by the praise, but the part of him that remembered his situation returned his blood to ice. His gaze drifted towards the head of the column where the Highlord led the way north.

"Not even my cousin," Atrus said, his tone gone low. The old knight's eyes followed Sasha's. "Kadmus could have been the man to reunite Altier Nashal, but it takes a king to lead a kingdom. Our illustrious Highlord claims there's no need for such things anymore, but those are foolish words leaving his mouth." He leaned away and spat on the ground. "All he's done is bring us under one banner. If this alliance is to ever be more than just marching in the same direction, we need..."

"Atrus," Sasha interjected.

Their eyes met, and Atrus continued. "We need a man who doesn't profess he's one thing while acting like another. That's not our way. That's not the Altieri way. It lacks salt and ice."

"We can't speak of these things," Sasha whispered. "I can't listen to them."

"Altieri are more like fey than we care to admit," Atrus said. "We can only be what we are."

Sasha's eyes flickered up and down Atrus. "And what are we?"

He smirked. "We're the Continent's fist."

"And the Continent is under siege," Sasha said. "Is that your meaning? Foreign jackals from the desert, honorless madmen from even farther? Floundering Teulites? And yet here we are, making our way to join our forces with theirs to attack the Highest King."

Atrus grinned and nodded.

Sasha faced forward, preparing to continue onward and retake his place in the column. "The Continent will have to look after itself. My concern is Ecclesia. Anything else will have to come after."

Atrus reached out to put his hand on Havoc's reins. "You think I'm trying to get you to reveal your true intentions to my cousin? Prove you're a fangblade prowling in our goat pen? I'd hoped I had earned more of your respect than that. Kastus led a coup against your city, and Kadmus usurps your birthright. But not all Valdars have forgotten what honor tastes like. Not all in the east have forgotten our allegiance belongs to the Sea Throne." He let go of Havok's reins and sat straight in his saddle. "Think on what I said. Don't just speak your heart. Act on it. True Altieri will follow where you lead."

"Then they will follow me to the Spired City," Sasha said. "And burn it. In gratitude for your lessons, I will not repeat this to the Highlord. I suggest you don't let it come up again."

Atrus' lip curled. "I thought better of you, Sasha. I thought your friendships with proven traitors wouldn't have shaken your resolve."

"They haven't," Sasha said. "They've given it to me. I owe Ecclesia's survival to the Dragon... to the imperial princess. To maintain that friendship, that which saved my city, I will even follow a man I hate."

"Then follow him," Atrus snapped. "Follow until we're all kneeling to floundering Tiger Lords. When that time comes, remember what I said and that I offered a way that didn't lead to ruin."

Atrus gave his horse his heels and rode on, leaving Sasha to watch his former teacher's back.

If only I could, my teacher, Sasha thought. Unfortunately, I can't trust anyone. Not with what I have to do. Forgive me.

"My king?" Trent appeared at Sasha's side, on foot and with his young squire Veronika at his back. He cast a suspicious eye after Atrus' diminishing figure up the column. "Be there a problem?"

"No, Captain," Sasha sighed. His hands tensed on the reins. "Just... a fool horse and his fool rider." He cocked his head to indicate for Trent to walk alongside him as he set Havoc into a slow pace. "Report."

"Quartz Knight came with word," Trent said, matching Havoc's gate. "Althandi border forts be manned as we feared, but they be a tenth the column's number. Easy pickings with Pearl support."

Sasha clutched at his stomach, feeling a sickening roil deep in his core. "Does the Highlord mean to attack the forts?"

"Nay, my king," Trent said. "Our numbers be too great to invite attack, and our aerial support be more than enough to keep Althandi armsmen penned inside their walls. Highlord Kadmus curses the delay but orders we march off the roads and avoid conflict until we be reaching the Spired City."

"Good," Sasha murmured. "Good. Any word from my sister? Has Pacifica given sendings?"

Trent shook his head. "Nay, my king."

"Or from home?"

"Messengers only," Trent replied. "No word from the queen as of late."

"She must be showing by now," Sasha said softly.

"And caring for your heir to be, my king. There be no doubt of it."

Sasha smiled wanly and wondered how Trent would react to the idea that the child growing within the queen was of Merik blood, not Romov. Regardless, Sasha would love Deimi and Crispin's child and claim them as his own. In all but name, the Romov line of kings would end with him.

For the best, probably, he thought. Let Ban be the one to continue the elder bloodline. Let historians wonder why Romovs stopped getting marked for the next thousand years.

Trent observed Sasha's inexplicable melancholy with an inscrutable raised eyebrow. "My king? Be there anything you need?"

"Not as of now," Sasha said, "save except for a little hope, maybe."

Trent turned his head and spat through the clef in his upper lip. "There be less and less of that the further north we be marching."

Sasha raised his head, looking to the horizon. His eyes traced higher, taking in the distant blur of mist far, far ahead of them. Even from this distance, like thin twigs caught in a budding cotton plant, the spires of the distant capital were just coming into sight.

"It sometimes feels like that, doesn't it?" Sasha patted Havoc's neck and gave him a gentle tap of his heels. "But sometimes, I let myself dream that we're getting closer to its source."

oOo

Inaz parried the spear thrust and sidestepped his opponent. His heels ground into the dirt of the dueling arena's floor, and he spun to keep the attacker in front of him.

"Do not overcommit," he said. "Your thrust was good, but now I control your momentum."

The imperial princess corrected her stance and assumed her guard. Impeccable balance, unusual for a novice. The marshal's instructions had not been lacking.

Enfri wore her flight uniform. She often did now. Inaz couldn't recall her wearing a gown since she surrendered her throne. Her hair tied back into a vertical trio of tails, goggles worn up above her hairline, but bandoliers empty of her arsenal of spells. She'd come to train in the spear, not in spellcraft.

Her next thrust was more measured than the last, her grip on the haft firm but malleable. She was already good. She was getting better. Inaz was forced back for three steps before he found an opening in her guard.

Enfri dropped to one knee after Inaz struck her on the inside of her leg, throwing her stance off kilter.

"Again," Enfri said. She pushed off of the ground and returned to her stance.

"Once more," Inaz agreed. "Only once more."

"Once is all I'll need," she promised.

Inaz furrowed his brow. He'd normally take such confidence as unearned, but something in her demeanor made him reconsider. She was determined, and Enfri did not lack skill.

"First, though," she said through her panting. "What was my mistake in that series?"

"None," Inaz said. "Your form was perfect throughout the kata."

Enfri balked and straightened her posture. "But you got me."

"Yes."

She lowered her spear. "So..."

"One can do everything perfectly and still lose." Inaz pointed towards her feet with his blade. "Narrow your stance. Remember to correct the bad habits."

Enfri complied. "If I executed it right... I must've had a better choice that I didn't take."

"Yes," Inaz said. "It was the wrong kata."

Her imperial cheeks puffed out in a sullen pout.

"Majesty?"

"Highness, Inaz. It's Highness now."

Inaz nodded his apology for the breach in protocol.

Enfri stepped back from him and stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, a signal for a reprieve from the bout. "It was the kata you told me to use. Why would that be the wrong kata?"

"It started as the right choice, but then I began to fall back."

"So I should've gone more aggressive and seized the momentum," Enfri sighed.

Inaz nodded. "Yes."

She appraised Inaz through lidded eyes. "And overcommit?"

"Commit," Inaz said. "Not overcommit."

"This is all too blustering complicated."

"It is much to keep in your head at once, but not impossible."

"Clearly," Enfri groused. She took her stance and raised her spear. "Again."

"As you say, Highness." Inaz assumed second stance and advanced.

They exchanged blows. Inaz found another opening and struck again with the flat of his blade.

He met air and overswung.

The butt of Enfri's spear smacked against Inaz's midsection, then the haft cracked down on his right shoulder. The strike forced Inaz to his knee with the surprising power behind the blow. He hadn't seen a single step of the attack.

Inaz blinked before accepting the hand Enfri offered to help him to his feet.

Confidence, in Enfri's case, was wholly earned.

"Well struck, Highness," Inaz said.

"After thirty-odd exchanges, I was due for one." Enfri tried to keep her tone measured and calm, but Inaz didn't miss how she stood with her chin a little higher now.

That was good. A small victory now and then in the face of a string of defeats was more precious than water in the desert. The imperial princess wasn't the kind to get a big head over it, and it would prove to her that her efforts could bear fruit.

Still, Inaz was curious how she managed it. It wasn't as if he'd been going easy on her. He was under Her Highness' direct command to never go easy on her.

Enfri averted her eyes from Inaz's gentle scrutiny. She even blushed for some reason. "I... err... noticed you favor a lateral strike at the leg when you see that particular opening. I thought I'd try going the opposite direction of what you taught me."

"Putting you where I didn't expect. Well conceived, Highness. Executed better."

"Feels like it was a dirty trick."

"Fighting is dirty. Pretending otherwise causes mistakes. Better to avoid preconceptions entirely. Just win."

"Again?"

"Once more only, I said." Inaz sheathed his sword. "Use the time until tomorrow to think and reflect."

"And get ready to lose the next thirty-odd matches?"

"It is likely, Highness. Aim to win every twenty-odd matches next. Eventually, I will be losing more often than I win. Then you can find a better opponent to train with."

The princess looked incredulous. "Does such a person exist?"

"I know of at least twenty fighters I cannot defeat regularly."

"In Shan Alee?" Enfri inquired.

"Six," Inaz amended.

"Who aren't dragons?"

"One."

"Or Ban."

"None, Highness. I will make inquiries."

She raised a palm while she wiped sweat from her brow with her spear arm. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. For now, I'll be content to maintain this one win in thirty thing. I'll try to make sure it wasn't a fluke."

"It wasn't," Inaz assured her. "If it was, I would tell you." He looked around. "I doubt any of them would."

Enfri spared a glance for the audience for her training session.

Upwards of twenty nobles, guildmasters, and officers had taken to their feet to applaud Enfri's victory. They were almost loud enough to make it difficult for Enfri and Inaz to hear each other even while they stood face to face. Inaz heard several proclaiming the imperial princess to be the greatest spear fighter in the world.

Nonsense, all of it. Thankfully, Her Highness was wise enough to cling to her indelible sense of humility. She knew herself. She knew her limits. That was more than most could claim. If anything, Enfri would be the most resistant to the idea that she was at all better with a spear than the rawest recruit. That, unfortunately, could be more of a hurdle than overconfidence, but Enfri didn't appear to be falling into that trap either. She owned her victories as well as her losses. Inaz had a high opinion of both her potential and the strides she'd already made..

As she was, Inaz would match Enfri against any armsmen in Shan Alee and be confident that she would make a good showing of herself.

"I believe this is where they expect you to revel in your win, Highness," Inaz said.

"Blustering..." Enfri faced the largest group of sycophants and bowed with a smile on her face. The cheers and applause redoubled, but Enfri wasn't of a mind to bask in their approval for much longer than that. Not in the slightest.

"Enough of that," she grumbled. "Escort me back to the palace? I could use a bath."

"Of course, Highness." Inaz saluted and fell into step on her right. Within moments of Enfri returning her spear to its place outside the roped-off arena floor, Mevek the Guardian left her place outside the ring to join them.

With Enfri's withdrawal from the venue, the audience began to slowly disperse. Some may have thought to approach the imperial princess, but the presence of the Guardian tended to keep their type at bay. For whatever reason, people were intimidated by Mevek. Inaz couldn't fathom why. She seemed perfectly personable to him.

"This is improper," Mevek said. "You should not train where everyone can see."

Enfri kept silent, but Inaz grunted his agreement.

"An empress... or a princess... shouldn't be made into a spectacle." Mevek's tone grew angry. "Your aunt wants you humbled. She wants everyone to see you lose."

"She wants them to see I've lost," Enfri corrected. "Elise is reminding me and everyone else who the empress is."

"It's improper," Mevek said again.

"I'm not arguing that, my Guardian," Enfri said. "But it's how it is. The Dragon Empress tells me my place and I'll keep to my place. That's how I'll keep our people safe from her whims. Better she keeps herself amused by tormenting me than someone else. I can handle it. I'm used to it."

"It hasn't even been a full week, Majesty," Mevek snarled. "You shouldn't have to be used to anything."

"Highness," Enfri said firmly. "Don't let your tongue slip where anyone else can hear or we'll both pay for it. Half the palace staff is probably Gray Lotus or demon thralls now."

"Little difference between the two." Mevek lowered her eyes. "Forgive me... Your Highness."

Enfri sighed. "It's alright. Honestly, I'd be happy if she'd just let me leave the palace entirely. Go back to being a sky woman. But no." She tilted her head from side to side sarcastically. "I'm the heir. Blustering nonsense. As if I even wanted to be empress to begin with. I'd've let her have the title months ago if she wasn't such a blustering loon."

Inaz pressed his lips together to suppress an amused snort.

"They're talking to her again," Enfri said quietly.

"Who is?" Mevek asked.

"The spooks. Sorry. The 'honored ancestors'. Naturally, she's being insufferable about it."

Mevek rumbled a low growl deep in her throat. She wasn't pleased by that information. To be frank, Inaz had his own misgivings. But at the very least, that meant the spooks were focusing less of their attention on Enfri. That could only be a good thing.

"I don't like that subject," Enfri said suddenly. "I shouldn't have brought it up, so back to the last one. I don't mind taking my lumps in front of a pack of mouth-breathing ham and eggers."

Inaz stopped all pretense of stoicism and laughed openly.

"This way," Enfri continued brightly, "when I do start giving Inaz his drubbings with more regularity, everyone and their blustering uncles will know I come by it honestly. I'll be able to just glare at them, and it'll scare them out of their smallclothes."

"Ham and eggers?" Inaz wheezed. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know!" Enfri protested. "I heard Obuu call someone that. I liked the sound of it."

Inaz was having a fit, and it earned him an appalled glare from his Guardian. One shouldn't laugh at the empress. Rather, the imperial princess. It was still near to impossible for Inaz to think of her as that.

Enfri beamed at Inaz, plainly pleased with herself for cracking him up.

Ham and eggers. Inaz would have to remember that one.

The laughter died on Inaz's lips as he pulled steel. The man approaching to within three paces pulled up short. Lord Darian's attention was now fully on Inaz's sword rather than his charge.

"Lord Champion," Darian said carefully.

"Lord Darian," Enfri said in cool greeting. Her tone shifted to one of bare tolerance. "You're back."

The prince in exile wore his Nadian knight's uniform, more openly than he would ever dare while Shan Alee was allied with Althandor. He kept a small side sword on his hip but had no other weapons, certainly none at hand. He posed no threat to the princess.

Not a physical threat, at least.

Darian's eyes flickered from Inaz returning the sword to its scabbard to Enfri. "I didn't mean to startle anyone. Especially not someone as... dedicated... as your champion. I hoped to talk with you. If that's agreeable."

Enfri let out a soft moan of displeasure. "If it's important." She gestured for Darian to join her for the walk back to the palace.

Inaz and Mevek hung back for a step to allow Darian to walk beside Enfri. Darian offered her his arm, which she blithely ignored.

"I observed your training," Darian said. "If you don't mind my saying, I didn't expect your lessons to be so advanced. You don't give the impression of being a skilled fighter."

Enfri glared sidelong.

"I... um... That came out wrong."

She sighed. "No, it's fine. Normally, I'd take that as a compliment."

"Your armor suits you."

"I'll never take that as one."

"I only meant... Stones, I'm not doing well, am I?"

"Try to avoid drawing attention to an outfit I feel on display in."

"Really?" Darian asked, bemused. "Highness, I've seen you in clothes that would make Gaulatians blush. Bare leg, bare midriff, cleavage for days."

"Digging deeper..."

If Darian could bite his tongue off, he might have made a go of it. "Stones take me... You're very difficult to make small talk with."

Mevek and Inaz shared a look and rolled their eyes in unison.

"Try digging up," Enfri suggested.

"I don't know what to say," Darian mumbled. "I always know what to say, but you don't follow the same social graces every other noblewoman follows."

Enfri shrugged with one shoulder. "You're doing better. A little. I guess."

"I mean it. Things that should be compliments are insults and insults are taken as threats and threats are greeted with smiles. I don't... I don't get you!"

Enfri wrinkled her nose as she finally looked his way. "You've threatened me?"

"No! I meant..." He exhaled sharply and looked away. It looked a little petulant to Inaz's eye. "I'm just trying to say you're... different. Not in a bad way, really. Just in a way I've never seen before."

"You probably don't talk with many former sky women," Enfri said, facing forward again.

"You'd be surprised," Darian said. "Goodfolk, noblewomen, crafters and crofters of all kinds. I've spoken and spoken well with people of all walks of life. You're just not a normal woman."

"Oh? Do tell."

"You're..." Darian appeared at a loss for words unlike any that Inaz or anyone he'd spoken to had ever observed in the exile. "You're... fascinating."

"Alright, I think that's enough." Enfri hurried her pace as she ascended the steps up to the main palace entrance. Darian slowed for half a breath before rushing to catch back up with her.

"I yield," he said. "No more paltry attempts at small talk. Clearly, it doesn't help my standing."

"The first true statement you've said to me today."

"Come off it. I wasn't wrong about your usual attire."

Enfri walked faster.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry!" Darian ran to get in front of her and bar her path into the palace.

Inaz put his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Darian either missed or chose to ignore Inaz's sword hand. He remained in place and held up his palms to Enfri until she stopped trying to sidestep him and resigned herself to the confrontation.

"Speak your piece then take it elsewhere," Enfri said, fuming. "I really am not in the mood for dealing with joyboys."

"Joyboy?" Darian gasped. "You all keep calling me that, but what... What does that even mean?"

Enfri balled up a fist.

"No!" Darian stopped shying back and stood his ground. "You can't bully me into submission like..." He balked at what he'd been about to say and started again. "No, that'd be an unworthy thing to say. You don't try to bully people, but you do expect obedience when it isn't always deserved. I'm sorry, but it isn't a stretch of the imagination to think it's what you intend, even though I know it's not. It simply comes off that way sometimes. Regardless, I won't sit back and take it just because you think I should. I've done nothing to deserve your hatred. If you don't like me or how I behave, fine. That's one thing. But you've no right to needle and threaten after I've done everything in my power to help you."

Enfri seethed, but she lowered her fist.

"You don't have to say we're friends, but I think I've done enough to prove I'm not your enemy."

Enfri scowled, but she averted her eyes and nodded. "You... aren't completely off your nut." Her scowl deepened. "That maybe hit closer to the target than I like."

Darian untensed, but he didn't quite relax. "I admit, I persisted with you when I should've altered course a long time ago. I truly apologize, Highness. It was never my intent to make you uncomfortable. The exact opposite, in fact. From the start, I only wanted to endear myself to you. My methods were flawed, and I'm sorry for that."

Enfri looked anywhere else but towards Darian. "I... am sorry, too. I may have harbored preconceptions and refused to reconsider them. You've helped me, and I shouldn't have made you feel as unwelcome as I have."

Darian's right hand went from an upraised palm to an extended hand. "Truce?"

Enfri eyed his hand like it was an invested dizzyball ready to pop. Then, she placed her own hand into it. "Truce."

Deftly, Darian tucked Enfri's arm under his and walked her through the palace threshold. "I won't abuse it, Highness. My word on that."

Enfri frowned at how she ended up arm in arm with Darian despite her earlier refusal. "As you say..."

Mevek made a quiet sound of distaste and joined Inaz in following the pair towards the Southwest Wing of the palace. Inaz remained silent and watched the exile like a hawk. Any repeat of the infamous knee-touching incident would invite swift reprisal.

Ahead, Darian pursed his lips and looked uncomfortable. "That... that makes what I should have told you sooner that much harder to admit."

Enfri furrowed her brow. "Admit what?" she asked with the utmost suspicion.

"It's no secret your aunt has been accepting declarations of intent on your behalf," Darian said reluctantly.

"Bah!" Enfri exclaimed. "Declarations of intent, indeed. Just hang a 'for sale' sign around my neck like a common megarach, why don't you? No, it is certainly not a secret. It's been Elise's favorite subject since taking the throne."

"So don't break our truce just yet, but..." He trailed off.

Enfri remained confused for all of three seconds before her eyes widened, incensed. "You mean to tell me..."

"I submitted my intent to the Dragon Empress to court you as well."

"You pompous..." Enfri tugged her arm away from him.

"Don't mistake me, Enfri," Darian said sharply. "Yes, I think you're gorgeous. You're beautiful, intelligent, and powerful. As nobles go, you're the most perfect candidate for a Nadian queen I could ask for."

"If you think for one second..."

Darian didn't let her finish that sentence either. "I still want you for my queen, even if I'd feel the need to keep my misthios on standby anytime we walked the same hallway. But we don't have to be friends to be married."

"Do you have any comprehension of how wrong that is?" Enfri demanded.

"Keenly!" Darian said, raising his voice. "But the crown makes one faceless. You know better than anyone, don't you? Men and women in our position don't get to marry for love. We can only marry for position, prestige, or alliance. If we're lucky we get more than one of those."

"Winds take the last three if you can have the first," Enfri said, her voice threatening to buckle.

"That would be... the dream, wouldn't it?" Darian scoffed and tried to maintain a weak smile. He ran a hand through his hair. "I know you tried. Stones take me if I get why you chose who you did, but I'll be a damned liar if I said I didn't understand why you tried."

Enfri held herself away from him but stopped trying to escape. "You sound like someone who tried, too."

Darian looked away and nodded.

"Reyn," Enfri whispered. "Winds take me, but you did love her, didn't you? It wasn't just... joyboy antics."

He didn't deny it. "I still do, to be honest. I probably always will in some way."

"You miss her, even if you're not meant to be together."

Darian nodded. "I was angry when you surrendered to the Jades, Highness. I'll admit it. Because I knew right away what it would mean for her. She left as I knew she had to, and she'd go somewhere I can't follow." His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I'd give anything to make things like they were a month ago. I'd even take having your former betrothed around if it meant Reyn was here. She and I aren't for each other. I recognize that, but..."

"But you can't change who you care for," Enfri said to complete the hanging thought.

"As you say."

Enfri's steps slowed until she stopped in place. "Reyn would look grand as a queen."

"Wouldn't she?" Darian laughed.

"She would, but let's be honest."

"She looks much better where she is, wherever that is." Darian sighed. "I'm glad she's found Lady Nolaas. Dreadful woman, scary as Hell, but I will be grateful to her for the rest of my days for making Reyn happy."

Inaz noted what looked like a passing fancy in Enfri's eye, like she considered revealing a relevant tidbit of information. She apparently decided against twisting any proverbial knives and kept it to herself.

"So..." Enfri said, "I'm your second choice, am I?"

Darian stood straight and faced her directly. "If you'd consent, yes."

"This," Enfri said, pointing at Darian. "This, what you're doing now, is infinitely more palatable than everything I've gotten from you before."

He bowed his head. "Understood. You appreciate forthright honesty above everything else. Including the niceties and pleasantries I've been trained to use. That much about you, I get now."

Enfri nodded firmly. "Good. Let me give you the same. I have suspicions. I think my aunt wants you to... blustering Hell... to claim me."

Darian avoided her eyes. "That was my impression, yes."

"For whatever reason, the Glorious Emperor likes the idea of a Teranor back in Drok Moran. As his loyal subject, I'm obliged to agree. I'd have agreed on that even before moving down a notch on the line of succession, because I'm really not that fond of King Fen Algara."

"Of course not. Poisoned tea. I'd be cross, too, if I were you."

"But marrying you? It goes against everything I've believed in my entire life. Political marriage has no appeal for me."

Darian adjusted his weight on his feet, doing his best not to look too disappointed. "If it would please you," he said, "I will withdraw my intent."

Enfri crossed her arms and tapped a foot against the floor. "How many others put their names forward?"

"For courting you? Dozens, at least."

"Blustering... And in your experience, if I were to appear like I favored one candidate over anyone else?"

Darian furrowed his brow and frowned. "It would only be proper for the others to step aside and withdraw their intent, also. Why?"

"Right about now, there's nothing I want less than a bunch of buzzards nibbling at the corpse of my betrothal. It's very annoying, and it makes me sick just to think it's happening. I'm positive my aunt thinks it's hilarious."

Darian nodded slowly. "I've heard of marriages of convenience, but... a courtship of convenience?"

"Consider," Enfri said. "I get a break from the buzzards, and you..."

"Receive the benefit of allying with the empire. Protection from Althandor. Consideration for my bid to retake Drok Moran. In effect, more than you get for this... charade?"

"Don't underestimate how annoying buzzards are."

Darian chuckled. "Fair enough. Well, this suddenly became awkward. Courting but not courting, is it?"

"It's not everything you want, but you strike me as someone who can adapt to not getting everything he's after." Enfri took Darian's arm and gestured for him to continue walking her towards her chambers. "I assume you'd know how to spread the word if I were to suddenly be... unavailable?"

"Highness, I've been plotting how to do that since I first talked to your aunt about the matter."

"Oh, that doesn't help your bid for my hand in the slightest."

Darian laughed. "Understood, but it's the proper way of going about it."

"Blustering nobles and royals," Enfri groused. "Everything's backwards with you people."

"What do you mean 'you people'? You're one of 'you people' now, like it or not."

"I don't have to like it."

Darian patted her hand on his arm, and Inaz wondered if that was cause enough to filet the man. None of this conversation was sitting right with him, even if he couldn't put a finger on exactly why. Xira might know, so Inaz made a mental note to bring it up with her.

"You realize you're only escorting me to my chambers," Enfri said. "Not into them."

"Perish the thought," Darian assured her.

"Good."

"That comes later."

Enfri swatted Darian, and it bothered Inaz that it got them both laughing.