Page 14 of The Sundered Blade

“Conscriptions?” Leisa sounded almost shocked, and it was only the slight edge of untruth that told Karreya she was acting for the merchant’s benefit. “Has it come to that, then? The rumors of war must be true. But who does Garimore intend to fight? That business with Farhall seemed resolved and Garimore has always been on good terms with her neighbors.”

The man shrugged. “I’ve not heard anything official, but rumors say ’twas the Empire behind Her Majesty’s death. Perhaps ’tis an effort to prepare should those rumors turn out to be true.”

“Well, we thank you for the warning.” Senaya offered the man a friendly nod. “We should be on our way, but we wish you well, and perhaps one day, when we return, we will yet taste that fish stew of yours for ourselves.”

“Many thanks for the news, and may your skies be clear and your sails full,” the merchant returned, shifting his reins and clucking to his horses as he continued on down the road.

“If the gates are already closed, we may be too late,” Senaya said softly as the brightly painted wagon disappeared around the next bend.

“You will not dissuade me,” Leisa said fiercely. “War has not yet begun, therefore we still have a chance—a chance to buy time for Farhall, for Eddris, and for Iria. A chance to spare Katal entirely. Gates or no gates, I am seeing this through.”

“And if he is already prepared to strike? Hastening his move will only ensure the end of your friends’ hopes!”

“Then we will make a new plan,” Karreya interjected flatly, feeling rather perplexed by her aunt’s faintness of heart. “You are fond of reminding me of the Enclave’s teachings, and they certainly do not teach us to give up simply because a mission’s parameters have changed. We adapt.”

“And if you adapt your way right into a trap?” Senaya insisted. “I accompanied you here because I hoped to protect you, but I will not watch someone I love march tamely to their death. Not again!”

Leisa’s face went white as she turned her horse towards her mother, blue eyes meeting golden brown while an angry current sparked between them. Her mount blew anxiously through its nose and tossed its head, as if sensing the tension in the air.

“Again?” she asked in a dangerously quiet tone.

Senaya went stubbornly silent.

“Tell me,” Leisa demanded.

Senaya’s face turned to granite.

“Tell me!” Leisa shouted. “Tell me something that will help me make sense of this! Tell me why you left me with Soren. Tell me why you sent my uncle instead of coming yourself and…” Her teeth clenched for a moment before she forced the next words from her lips. “Tell me how my father died.”

CHAPTER5

Oakhaven—the Eddrisian capital—was far closer by wyvern than by horse, but still farther than Vaniell would have preferred under the circumstances.

After flying through the night fighting a steady headwind, Kyrion did not pause outside the city as Vaniell had anticipated. Instead, he landed only a few paces from the front door of the royal palace and changed forms in the space of a breath. He was clearly weary from the journey, but his cold gray eyes still assessed their surroundings with an alertness that promised death to any who threatened them.

And Vaniell—who had done nothing but sit on the wyvern’s back over those many long miles—felt as if his knees might give out beneath him at any moment. His weakness was almost as embarrassing as his torn and rumpled clothing, the scruff on his chin, and the filthy tangles of his hair. Indeed, it would be a miracle if anyone at the Eddrisian court recognized him.

Then again, perhaps anonymity was for the best. After all, he really had no idea how Allera would be feeling towards him in the wake of a Garimoran assassin making a nearly successful attempt on her life.

“Good day.” Vaniell glanced up at the half dozen guards who strode forward to greet them. Each wore a black sash over his or her green uniform and carried both sword and bow as they stood sentry on what Vaniell could only call a veranda.

That might sound odd when applied to a palace, but the residence of the Eddrisian royal family was not at all what anyone raised in a more formal Throne might have been led to expect.

It was a graceful structure of only two levels, constructed of wood and rough stone, without a single wall or tower or battlement to be seen. More like a large, rambling country home than a royal residence, it seemed built for comfort rather than intimidation, and its front doors opened onto one of the main streets of Oakhaven.

“What brings you here, Lord Kyrion?” Interestingly enough, none of the guards had drawn their weapons. Even their wolf companions seemed content to sit on their haunches and regard the newcomers with complacence, which suggested they were not at all perturbed by the sight of a night elf—or at least this particular night elf—on their front stoop.

“News that dare not be delayed,” Kyrion returned briefly. “I would ask to be granted an immediate audience, so that we might be on our way as quickly as possible.”

“We?” Most of the guards immediately glanced at Vaniell, though none of their eyes lit with recognition.

The question was, how much would Kyrion choose to reveal?

Only a very few people were aware of Vaniell’s part in the rebellion against Melger’s rule, and he had no way of knowing whether Allera was among them. Most still believed him a careless hedonist, with no thought in his head but for women, fashion, and parties. If Allera was yet one of their number, she might lock him up first and ask questions later, and Vaniell wasn’t certain Kyrion would be quick to speak up on his behalf. The night elf might be amused enough by the idea of the wastrel prince in a cell to simply leave him there until their errand was concluded.

Kyrion turned to Vaniell, one eyebrow arched, and gave him a long look from head to toe. “This one is something of a nuisance, but he is no threat to you. And for the moment, my business requires his presence.”

Vaniell’s lips twitched. Absolute truth mixed with insult. He rather wanted to applaud, but given that Kyrion seemed to think anonymity was the safest course, he would likely do well to remain silent and unremarkable for as long as possible.

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