The Heart of the Lost Star (Tales of the High Court Book 3)

by Megan Derr

  "You're right." Kamir nodded, took another deep breath. "Hopefully it won't matter. I'll have to endure court gossip for a time, but that's hardly new, and in a few months, we'll be living in the city."

  She patted his cheek. "Precisely. Now get dressed so you can spend some time with your children; they miss you."

  "I miss them, too," Kamir said, and went to do as she said.

  He dressed quickly in clothes that would suit going into the city, getting stuck in the court offices for hours, and then working in his own office until—and probably after—dinner.

  Smoothing down his dark gold jacket, he sat at his dressing table to fix his hair, settling on a simple braid he wrapped into a crown, securing it with jewel-studded pins.

  He started to stand, but faltered as his stomach seemed to loom at him from the mirror. He sat back down and pressed his hands against his flat belly, too many emotions to sort spinning and tumbling through him, a heavy, thorny ache spreading through his chest.

  It had been an accident, and it was the very last thing he needed right now. Whatever Velina said, Jader would probably return from Benta and promptly hate him as a conniving, scheming bastard—or at best a careless fool.

  But for all Kamir desperately wished he'd been smarter and more careful, he couldn't be entirely sorry either. He'd always wanted more children, and what was there to complain about in having a child that might have Jader's soft brown eyes and brilliant smile?

  Smiling ever so faintly himself, Kamir headed out to face his day.

  Chapter Ten

  "What was the point in giving us a schedule if they never intend to stick to it?" Jader asked around a yawn.

  Across from him, Vannia looked even more annoyed as she worked to adjust his schedule for at least the thousandth time that day alone. She'd worked hard to arrange everything, including quieter stops where they did not have to meet with people, but every hour it seemed there was another guest, another visit, and piles of apologies that amounted to nothing.

  If not for Lady Seredia playing the part of translator and facilator so perfectly, Jader might have caused several war-provoking incidents.

  He wouldn't mind as much normally, for he did enjoy socializing, but he was starting to feel like a nomad's trick-performing bird. Or, well, an Islander barbarian on display for civilized Mainlanders, but if he let that thought settle into place, his mood would so completely sour there'd be no restoring it.

  He had a job to do, and no matter how reluctant he was, he intended to see it through. Surely it could not be that difficult to convince one old woman to hand full control over to her daughter.

  Even he couldn't take that thought seriously.

  "You look exhausted," Seredia said with a faint, sympathetic smile. She looked exhausted herself, curled up on her half of the opposite bench of the large carriage, her head pillowed against her bundled shawl, cloak draped over her like a blanket to ward off the chill that slipped in despite the heavy, insulated walls.

  Jader finally succumbed to the yawn he'd been fighting, then said, "I would much rather have stayed the night in a warm bed instead of carrying on just so we can be certain to reach Lord Whoever's house on time. I'm the guest. Shouldn't all these things be done according to my wishes?"

  "Even royalty isn't always that lucky," Seredia said with a laugh. "I am sorry though. The hour was so late by the time everyone else shut up and went home, I was certain we'd be staying the night. I did my best, but Lady Krista was insistent. Something about needing to do all this before the first heavy snowfall." She frowned slightly. "Though to be honest, everyone seems to be worried about something else when they think none of us is paying attention. I cannot glean what though. They're all very careful not to tell me everything."

  "Shera and I had the same impression, but we haven't gleaned anything either," Vannia said with a frown. "He remained with the soldiers and other servants in the hopes of finally learning something, though he doesn't anticipate he'll have much luck. Whatever is going on, they don't want you knowing about it."

  "Rebels," Jader replied. "I had a talk with tel Mendi earlier. His people managed to get gossip out of soldiers in the city while the baggage was being pulled out of the hold and loaded onto the carriages and carts. They got more of it at that house we stayed in there."

  Vannia looked annoyed that tel Mendi's soldiers had succeeded where she'd failed, but only nodded.

  Jader continued, "Apparently not everyone in Benta is pleased with Desmond's presence on the throne or the way he is making nice with Harken. They're even less pleased that the High Commander of Harken is visiting not just as a guest, but as a supposed long lost child of one of their most powerful families."

  "Supposed," Seredia repeated with a snort, and beside her Vannia rolled her eyes. "It doesn't take more than looking at you and Her Ladyship to realize there's no supposition involved. But I suppose they'd find that even worse." Her brows drew down even further. "I had heard whispers of malcontents, but I thought it was a matter of a few grumbling nobles and others who don't have the same favor with King Desmond that they did with his late father."

  "That's definitely all my extensive reports had to say on the matter. Apparently those who know better have not seen fit to share the information with the rest of the continent. That will certainly be going in my reports, along with a few strong words for my spy masters. In the meantime, do try to overhear as much as you can, but have a care. I would not want you to come to harm."

  "I learned a thing or two about caution in Treya Mencee. Trust me, I've no desire to play the foolish hero. I'll leave the real spying and soldiering to the experts. Certainly Captain tel Mendi seems to have it well in hand."

  Jader smiled briefly. "Yes, he does. The more time I spend with him and Shattered Wind, the more I like them. And you, dear ladies. Getting to know all of you is definitely the highlight of this trip."

  "I'm honored, my lord, and the sentiment is returned full measure." They exchanged more smiles, then Seredia glanced out the window. "Using the weather isn't a bad lie. For all I'm happy for this assignment, I wish you could have gotten into this tangle in the summer."

  "Agreed." Snow was not something Jader had ever experienced, not even when he got dragged into Cartha to deal with one problem or another. It fell occasionally in some parts of Harken, or so he was told, but so rarely no one could remember when it had last happened. Certainly not the ten plus years he'd lived there. "I hope that means we're almost finished, but I dread looking at the schedule because I swear it grows by twenty names every time I do."

  Seredia made a noise that might have been giggling if she hadn't been half-asleep. "I'm not looking either, not until morning and after I've had coffee. But for what it's worth, Commander—my lord—you are doing splendidly, especially given you've never received any but the most basic diplomatic training."

  "Thank you," Jader replied. He tried to settle more comfortably on his own side of the carriage, but it was going to be a long, miserable night. It wasn't the confining space that bothered him, but the uneven motion, the occasional hard jerk as they hit a rock or some other stubborn obstacle.

  Krista had tried to insist they share a carriage, but Jader had flat out refused. He needed space and rest, to be able to relax properly. If she'd shared the carriage with him, she would have insisted on a stilted conversation and he'd have gotten next to no sleep.

  He didn't know how the rest of them did this sort of thing for a living. He'd stayed awake three days straight through battles and catastrophes, and he swore even facing the aftereffects of a devastating hurricane had not left him this thoroughly worn out.

  Seredia snored softly as she finally drifted off. Jader hoped he developed her skills soon, or he might end this entire trip with murder charges. He sighed and scrubbed at his face, wishing at the very least for some light to read by.

  Instead he ran through the letters he'd been mentally composing, one for Allen to keep him apprised of the trip on the chance th
ere was anything he needed to advise on or caution against—and of course Jader needed to tell them about the rebels. They weren't, so far as tel Mendi had been able to discern, much of a threat yet, but they had the potential to become a threat if they weren't stopped soon, and Jader's presence wasn't helping.

  But when he was thinking about that unpleasant letter and the equally unpleasant reply he would receive, he happily pondered the other letter he wanted to send. That one would be going to Kamir, more relaxed and casual, with humorous bits of his own awkwardness and observations on customs that seemed so strange to him.

  Like the horrible blandness of Bentan food, save for breakfast and dessert, which both tended toward far too sweet. He would give anything for a good bowl of creamy, spicy soup thick with potatoes and carrots and chicken. Or fragrant saffron rice, a spicy seafood curry, flatbread and chutney. His mother's lobster chowder or fish kebabs so spicy his eyes watered.

  Thinking about food certainly wasn't going to help him sleep. Honestly, would one night in comfortable beds have hurt anything? Ugh.

  Positive thoughts. What good things could he write about to Kamir? The country itself was beautiful. More austere and less colorful than Harken, but definitely beautiful in its own way. The buildings were heavier, darker, with fewer windows and doors, but they also seemed to suffer more cold than Harken. Even right then, he was practically freezing, bundled up in his best winter cloak. He was starting to appreciate why the Bentans had constantly clucked and fussed over them.

  He had a feeling the first thing he'd be doing the moment they stopped long enough would be buying more suitable clothes. Or maybe he'd just try to come up with a good reason he wasn't able to leave his nice warm bed until spring.

  Oh, if only it were that easy.

  But if he was going to be in the city buying clothes, he could also start buying gifts. Wine, brandy, beer, but also baubles and trinkets. The jewelry he'd so far seen certainly looked worthwhile, and he could obtain a piece or three for Kamir. His family would probably appreciate some pottery or wind chimes, other such things for their cabins if he could find them.

  He thought wistfully of his rooms in Harkenesten, how much he'd enjoyed seeing them through Kamir's eyes. How much he'd liked seeing Kamir in his bed.

  He lightly thumped the back of his head against the jacket he'd turned into a pillow. If they were going to keep traveling like this, he was going to demand they at least provide proper bedding; it was ridiculous they had not done so to begin with. He made a note to have Vannia take care of that once they reached their destination.

  Ugh, he just wanted to sleep. Why could he sleep on cold, hard ground in a crowded camp, or through a hurricane, but not in one stupid carriage?

  His thoughts bounced back to the bed he sorely missed, and the memory of Kamir fast asleep in it, his purple hair spread across the pillow and partially covering his face, the blankets tangled around his legs, leaving most of him bare.

  Jader was still bitter he'd not had time for one more night with Kamir before he left. But hopefully Kamir would still be interested in continuing their dalliance when he returned. That was a lot to expect, though, of a man he'd known only for weeks and then promptly had to leave for months—possibly most of a year.

  Argh, none of this was helping him sleep. Jader gave up on meandering thoughts and tried to focus on mindlessly counting pebbles as they dropped, dropped, dropped in a bucket.

  *~*~*

  It must have worked, because he jerked awake when they stopped moving. He winced at the sunlight jabbing into his eyes through a crack between the carriage door and frame. Jader shifted and pushed away his cloak—then immediately regretted it as the Pantheon-reviled cold washed over. Mercy on his balls, why was it so cold?

  Resisting the urge to return to huddling in the meagre warmth of his discarded cloak, he scooped it up and climbed out of the carriage—and swore colorfully as he got his woefully inadequate cloak over his shoulders.

  Piles of white were everywhere, smothering everything. An icy wind cut through all his layers. Jader bit back a whimper, but could do nothing to control his shivering. He finally took notice of the people, envying the lush, heavy furs the Bentan natives were wearing. Behind them stood a handsome, dark and austere house, the windows shuttered, even the door shut, though people were clustered on the stairs and landing leading to it.

  A tall, fat man with gray hair and beard approached, a dark scarlet cloak whirling around him, trimmed in gray fur and lined in some unknown, heavy black fabric. In thickly-accented Harken that was a jarring mix of formal and informal, the man said, "Welcome to Nettle, my humble home. It's an honor to have you Lord Star, and your fine retinue. Lady Hanalar, Captain tel Mendi."

  "Lady Seredia is fine, please, my lord."

  "Captain Tsarana, too, please," Tsarana said. "Formality is unnecessary."

  "You're most gracious. I am Lord Wessel Kane—Wessel, please." He bowed over Lady Seredia's hand, then gave a deep nod to Vannia, Shera, and Captain Tsarana tel Mendi as he and a handful of his soldiers formed a loose half circle around Jader. He motioned to a woman dressed in livery who stood several paces back. Taking the large bundles she carried, he handed one each to Jader, Seredia, and Tsarana. "I thought you might appreciate a more practical welcome gift, though our custom is usually for lavish presents. Please."

  Jader dutifully unfolded the large, heavy bundle, not remotely disappointed to see the beautiful blue and gray fabric was in fact a heavier cloak like the Bentans wore—including a hood that immediately repelled the cold as he pulled it up. He barely bit back a whimper of relief. "Your generosity is appreciated. I did not realize just how cold it could get. I've never seen…" He swept his arm to indicate the landscape, "this."

  Wessel laughed, his large body shaking with it. "Snow? This is barely a dusting, I promise. Soon the first real snow of winter will fall, and up in your family home it will be as deep as you." He clapped Jader on the shoulder and drew him close to lead him into the house. "We need to get some meat on your delicate bones or you'll freeze like a tree branch, my lord."

  "I wish I could disagree with you," Jader said, not bothering to say that his actual family back in Shahira had tried to fatten him up for years before finally accepting he was always going to be twig-thin.

  Still laughing, Wessel all but dragged him into the house, where servants promptly came to take the cloaks they'd just been given and the ones they no longer needed. They also took their shoes, a custom Jader was never going to enjoy. Taking shoes off was perfectly normal, but that the servants hauled them away was unsettling. "Later today we'll see to it you obtain suitable clothing for a Bentan winter. But come, there is a proper breakfast waiting and a whole day for you to rest and relax before you make the final trip up into the mountains where you'll likely be stuck until the spring thaw."

  That sounded positively terrifying and a little ominous. Nor was Jader remotely amused this was the first time he was hearing that the Abernoth estate was so severely isolated. Remote, yes, but no one had said it essentially became cut off at certain times of the year.

  They were led into a dining room, where a sideboard was laden with food and all manner of drinks were scattered the length of the table. The smells made Jader's stomach growl, even if the food was still unfamiliar. He sat in the seat Wessel indicated, Seredia sitting across from him, Tsarana taking the seat immediately beside him after hanging his sword belt from the back of his chair. Jader was envious; his own swords were with the carriage, as he was technically Lord Jader right now, not High Commander.

  A servant came forward, a deep frown cutting into his face, to take it—and recoiled sharply when Tsarana scowled and dropped a hand over the bit of belt hanging on the chair.

  Lord Wessel spoke in quiet tones to the servant and with a nod of his head, sent him away. "My apologies. I did try to warn them you had different customs, but we normally would never permit weapons at the table and it is a hard habit to break."

  "It
's my place to apologize," Jader said. "I do appreciate your leniency."

  "I am happy to indulge such a prominent figure of Harken, and such an interesting man," Wessel said with a smile.

  Jader was grateful that servants appeared then to manage the food, as the one time he'd had to serve himself he hadn't known where to start. It was a painful reminder of his earliest days on the Mainland—a reminder he could have happily lived without.

  The food was, as expected, too bland or too sweet, but it was warm and filling and didn't taste bad. Jader ate slowly, in between dealing with Wessel's endless questions and chatter. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt entirely too early for so much energetic talking.

  The coffee was amazing, but he'd heard Bentans were nigh-on religious about their coffee. So far that seemed to be true, to judge by how often he drank it and how many establishments existed solely to serve it.

  Eventually, however, his lingering exhaustion started to get the better of him and, despite his efforts, the yawns began to outnumber the words he managed to get out between them.

  Wessel laughed and rang the bell at his elbow for the servants to come clear everything away. "I think you have indulged me long enough, my lord, and I thank you. Come, come, we'll take you to your rooms and let you get in a bit of nap before the—" He faltered, then said a Bentan word, and finished, "this evening."

  "Dinner party," Seredia said.

  "Yes," Wessel said, and once more rested a hand on Jader's shoulder as he led him away up the wide, curving staircase to the second floor and down a hall where he stopped in front of a large, dark-stained wooden door painted with a trio of bird silhouettes in flight done in blue and silver paint. "Here you are, my lord. If you need anything, you've only to ring the bell pull. We've assigned a servant who should understand you well enough to tend you properly."