Page 37 of The Duke and the Disciple

“Drazhan.” Brita cleared her throat. Her hands brushed down the sides of her untouched mug of ale. “We await only your word.”

Fezzan nodded, his head swinging animatedly. “My men can be armored and ready within the hour. Two at most.”

“Mine as well.”

Drazhan dipped his chin onto his fingers, over and over, the final one nearly a slam. “And the stewardess? What does she think?” His eyes flicked Imryll’s way, but his face was still.

Imryll glanced around the long table. Drazhan valued her counsel, seeing her as a balancing agent to his natural impetuosity. If anyone in the room was expected to advocate against war, it was her. But her heart was too heavy, too uneven, for rationalizing. Aesylt would recover, but the damage was done. There was no longer any question of how far the Barynovs were willing to go. “Ah...” She spread her hands along the deep grooves of the wood. “I’ve never known war. You all have. So I’ll not advise for or against something I cannot understand.” She breathed in, but there was no steadying her nerves. Her pure, raw anger. “But if I had a sword in my hand right now, Drazhan, I would run it through the man myself.”

He nodded, glancing briefly her way. He was still nodding when he said, low and strained, “I want Esker Barynov here, tonight. Alone.”

“You expect the man to accept an invitation to his own execution?” Brita dipped her chin in disbelief.

“I’m not going to execute him,” Drazhan drawled, taking his time with each word. He remained fixed on the fire. “I’m going to give him a choice.”

“A choice?” Imryll asked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to read him.

“A simple one. He can renounce his words against my sister, publicly, and submit his son for tribunal, or the Barynov name dies with him.”

Fezzan dropped forward over the table. “An apology?”

Imryll moved her hands under the table, clenching through her growing unease. “He’ll never agree to it, Draz. Hismenare gathered at the bottom of our hill. He’s already made his choice.”

Drazhan lowered his hands to the table. The daze in his eyes cleared as he turned his attention her way. “He has until dawn to respond.” He shoved back from the table, casting a long, broad shadow over the council. “Adrahn, at ease. I know my sister. She was always going to find a way. It’s my own fault for forgetting that.”

Rahn nodded, but there was no relief in the man’s expression. “I don’t intend to transfer responsibility from my own shoulders to anyone’s.” His jaw rippled with tension and something else, something Imryll prayed her husband hadn’t also noticed. “I do, however, have a suggestion, but I’m not certain you’ll approve.”

Drazhan held his hands out, waiting.

“If you want to lock her away, she needs something to do. Her mind is restless.Sheis restless.” Rahn’s throat jumped. He stared at the table, looking at no one. “She’s taken a keen interest in the observatory?—”

“Fuck no,” Drazhan barked with a snort.

“Draz,” Imryll whispered. She reached for one of his hands. “Hear him out.”

“She needssomething to occupy her, or...” Rahn shook his head. “Send us up there with as many guards as you want. But let her work. Allow her some sense of purpose and control in this unfortunate situation. Otherwise, I think we can expect another night like tonight.” His mouth pressed tight. “Or worse.”

“Mm.” Drazhan glanced at Imryll. “You think this is wise?”

Imryll nodded, knowing she could lay her fears bare with him, that he would treat them with care. “We almost lost her tonight. She’s been accused of something untenable, and she’s desperate to clear her name, no matter what the cost to herself, so do we really have a choice? Whatever danger there may be in them traveling up the mountain, it cannot be half of what she faced tonight... and will continue to face if Val and the accusations are all her mind has to focus on.”

Drazhan’s tongue darted across his lips. “Fine. I can spare some of our guard to take them up.” He rapped his knuckles against his thigh. “But I reserve the right to recall my choice at any time.”

Rahn’s eyes closed briefly in relief. “Hvala.”

Drazhan turned away. “Brit, you’ll carry word to the Barynov scout about my offer?”

Brita shoved back from the table. “Right away.”

“Fez, have some of your men come to Fanghelm now. Back road, to the north. Quietly.”

“You know it.”

Imryll could barely meet Drazhan’s eyes when he leaned in to kiss her goodbye. He didn’t bother with reassurances.

She flagged Rahn to stay and waited for the others to leave.

He returned to his seat, watching her. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I had a better idea.”

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