by Megan Derr
"Thank you, my lord, you've been most gracious. Where are my people quartered?"
"Directly across from you is a room for three, and the rest will be in rooms on the third floor. Lady Seredia is in the east hall."
Jader frowned. "Why is she not on this hall with me?"
Wessel looked briefly offended. "Women have their own quarters, of course."
"I see." Jader let the matter drop, too tired to further question something that sounded so stupid on the surface. "Thank you again. I'll endeavor not to sleep too long."
Wessel looked as though he wanted to linger, something in his gaze that made Jader wary, though he couldn't quite sort out why. Thankfully, however, Wessel only bid him sleep well and departed.
Jader motioned for Tsarana to join him. Gesturing for one of the men to take position outside Jader's door, Tsarana bid the other two take the room across the hall.
Once the door was closed, Jader went over to the chair by the window and dropped heavily into it. "What am I missing?"
"Regarding Lord Wessel?" At Jader's nod, Tsarana said, "I can barely understand his mangled Harken, and his accent doesn't help, but I don't need language to know he fancies a tumble, my lord," Tsarana replied wryly, leaning against the door and folding his arms across his chest.
Jader made a face. "Oh, I see. I have been told before I often miss when people are flirting with me, but I swear I am not usually that oblivious. I must be more tired than I thought."
Tsarana chuckled. "Or distracted. Homesick."
"All of it, likely," Jader said with a sigh. "Certainly not interested, even if I thought I could enter into such an affair without sending Allen into fits." He made himself stand and stripped off layers until he was in only breeches and undershirt. Bundling the discarded clothes together, he dropped them on the large chest at the foot of his bed. It was made of the same dark-stained wood that seemed so common in Benta, with thick, heavy posts and drapes tied back with gold cords, clearly meant to be closed around the bed—probably to keep back the Pantheon-rejected chill. "Why is this place so wretchedly cold?"
"Because Pantheon alone knows what the Bentans would get up to if they didn't spend half the year frozen in place." Tsarana replied. "I'm keeping a soldier stationed at your door, and if anyone tries to pitch a fit about it I intend to pull rank. I and two others will be in the room directly across, and rotate guard duty regularly. Once we're suitably dressed for the weather, I'll be certain to keep them stationed outside as well."
Jader nodded. "Expecting trouble, or simply favor precaution?"
"Little of both." Tsarana drew himself up as Jader finished dressing for bed and turned back to him. "I wanted to say thank you, properly, for giving Shattered Wind a chance, High Commander."
"You volunteered, which no one else did. Some of them went out of their way to be otherwise occupied," Jader said, and leaned against the foot of the bed, bracing his hands on either side of him, curling them over the rounded edges of the frame. "I'm more than happy to keep giving Shattered Wind chances."
"Thank you, High Commander."
"Thank you, Captain. Wake me up if necessary and only if necessary."
Laughing again, Tsarana bowed and left.
Finally alone, Jader pulled the window drapes shut, laid one dagger on the nightstand and tucked another between the mattress and the headboard, and finally climbed into bed. Though it was tempting to pull the drapes to see if doing so did indeed make everything that much warmer, he didn't like the idea of being unable to see the rest of the room.
Pulling up the blankets, moaning as they slowly warmed him, Jader finally sank into sleep.
He woke to the muffled sound of voices in the hallway, what sounded like one quite insistent and the other—his guard, that voice he recognized—quite firm. Jader sighed, climbed out of his warm bed, and ambled across to the door. He pulled it open and stared at the young man arguing with his guard. "Is something wrong?"
The man, going red in the face, thrust out the silver tray he was holding, the food and pitcher of beer on it rattling ominously, and said in awkward Harken, "I bringing the lunch."
The words took a moment to sort out, but then Jader nodded and waved the man inside. "Thank you."
"You are welcoming." The man hastened over to the table, deposited the tray and fussed with everything briefly, then hastened out with a quick bow and a shy parting glance.
Jader shook his head. This was the only place he'd ever been where his looks did not stand out in some way, but he seemed to get a good deal more staring than he'd received even in Harkenesten when he'd first arrived.
Ignoring the food for the moment, he went over to his trunks and scrounged up the warmest clothes he could possibly find, mourning he could not put on his good, heavy boots.
Finally dressed, he made quick work of the meal and headed out to the hall, where Tsarana was speaking with a different guard. "I'm sorry if we woke you, my lord."
"You didn't. Did I miss anything of interest or relevance?"
Tsarana shook his head and fell into step beside him as they headed back downstairs. "More of that damnable snow has been falling, there is talk of turning the dinner party into something they call a frost ball, and I believe they've had tailors brought to see about clothes. But that's only what my people have gleaned from servants and eavesdropping." He smiled fleetingly.
Jader chuckled and clapped him briefly on the back. "Your people are proving to be admirable spies. Well done, Captain. I hadn't realized so many of your people spoke Bentan."
"Not so many, but even a few will get your far. Made us useful in the war, to be sure, though calling them fluent is still a touch generous. By the end of this venture, though, it'll be a good deal closer to the truth."
"I have every faith."
They lapsed into silence as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Lady Krista saw them from where she was talking to a couple of servants and a stiff-looking man in plain but sharp gray and blue clothes. She lifted a hand in greeting and walked over to them, reaching up to kiss Jader's cheeks, a gesture he reluctantly returned. "Good afternoon, dear brother. How did you sleep?"
"Well, thank you. How are you?"
She smiled. "Quite well. We managed to arrange for some tailors and seamstresses to visit, and between the three of them they'll have a proper wardrobe for you and your companions ready in a matter of days."
Jader bowed his head. "Thank you for arranging it all. We're most grateful."
"Of course. Lady Seredia woke early and has already been tended by the seamstresses. She's having tea with Lord Wessel and me just down there." She motioned to an open door halfway down the hall. "Did you want to join us, or get right to your fitting?"
"I'd rather get the fitting over with, though I wouldn't be opposed to a cup of coffee to shake the last of the sleep. Unless the tailors speak Harken, I'll need Lady Seredia as well."
Krista's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't it be better to request Lord Wessel's assistance?"
"She's my silver tongue. Why would I snub her for the reason I brought her?"
Frown deepening, Krista said, "It wouldn't be appropriate for an unmarried woman to see a man who is not a relation naked, or near enough at any rate."
Jader almost laughed. "I'm afraid I do not understand the concern. She is part of my retinue and a friend, and what is inappropriate about nudity or partial nudity?"
Krista pursed her lips, that frigid disapproval he had been hoping to avoid overtaking her face. "I know customs are very different in Harken and Farland—"
"And I respect customs are different here, but I know and trust Lady Seredia and it's not negotiable," Jader said firmly. "We will simply have to accept we disagree on this point. I'd appreciate if you'd send Lady Seredia to me."
"As you wish. Would you like coffee as well, Captain?"
"Please and thank you, my lady." Tsarana bowed slightly.
When she'd headed off, Jader stepped into the room where the man in gray had va
nished, not surprised to find the parlor had been repurposed as a tailor's shop.
Seredia appeared a moment later—and immediately set the tailors to protesting. A few polite but firm words later they settled, though, and she translated smoothly as they turned their full attention on Jader.
Jader stripped to his undergarments as requested and took position on the platform in front of the three mirrors. There were two more in the room, an older man with lines of silver in his bright red hair, and a large man of middle age with black hair and a heavy beard.
Tsarana took up position nearby, expression politely blank but his eyes sharp and alert as he watched the men work.
Thankfully the tailors seemed to excel at their profession. They worked quickly and efficiently getting his measurements, asking questions, and making all sorts of notes. Once Jader was dressed again and the coffee had arrived, they brought forth the collections of fabrics and sketches.
Jader frowned as he looked over their initial options. Beside him, Seredia smirked a bit. "What?"
"I think some rumors of you are not exaggerated. You are going to drive these men to madness with your arguing."
Nearby, Tsarana's mouth twitched with the barest smile before his blank expression regained control.
Jader shrugged. "I would deny it, but I'd be lying." He pointed at several fabric samples. "Nothing like this. I prefer jewel tones."
Seredia translated, and that launched a cheerful argument between Jader and the three tailors that lasted nearly two hours. When all parties were satisfied, the tailors turned their attention on Tsarana, who agreed to submit only after he'd summoned another soldier to stand guard.
Another hour later, as they were finishing up, a knock came at the door. One of the tailors opened it and Wessel stepped in. "Going well, my lord?"
"Very," Jader replied as he rose from the sofa. He stretched his stiff limbs. "Thank you for arranging everything, my lord. We are extremely grateful. I've swum in some truly frigid waters, but winters up here are something else entirely."
Wessel chuckled. "Yes, quite. Walk with me? Your man can follow at a distance."
Jader nodded at Tsarana, but flicked his fingers at his side. Tsarana nodded, and the other soldier in the room faded off without Wessel seeming to notice. "As you wish, my lord."
Out in the hallway, a servant approached with their winter cloaks and shoes. Jader thanked her and followed Wessel through the house and out a set of massive back doors onto a large stone patio that overlooked a large pond.
Stone steps, a lurid black against all the white snow piled on either side of them, led down along a winding path to and around the pond.
Off in the distance, tucked amidst trees, Jader caught a hint of the woman Tsarana had sent ahead.
Wessel walked close, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Now that he was rested and alert, Tsarana's earlier observation seemed painfully obvious. "So, my lord, how does it feel to be the lost child found again?"
"Strange," Jader said. "I have no memories; they were lost in the shipwreck. I remember very little before waking up on the beach. I know I landed there as the result of a shipwreck because I vaguely remember the storm, but mostly because I was told. Now I am told I am Bentan, but…" He lifted one shoulder. "I hope they are correct when they propose I might remember something once I see the place where I was born and raised for the first eight years of my life. They seem so excited by the idea, I would hate to see them disappointed."
"That would be lovely. You do deserve to remember something of where you come from. No one should suffer forgetting who they are."
"I haven't forgotten who I am," Jader said.
Wessel cast him a look. "You're Lord Trevin Abernoth, but do not remember. I would say that is forgetting who you are."
Jader gave another jerky shrug. "Yes, I suppose. Is that why you brought me out here, my lord?"
Giving a small laugh, Wessel replied, "No, but I was curious how you were doing. I can see why you are such a powerful figure in Harken, despite being a Farlander of sorts."
Only a lifetime of putting up with such insults kept Jader's temper in check. If the man was hoping to fuck him, which never would have happened anyway, telling him he'd done well despite being a Farlander of sorts was the wrong way to go about it.
Ignoring the comment instead, Jader replied, "So why did you bring me out here?"
Wessel did not immediately reply, instead leading him further along the path until they came to another patio, with a roof of stone and glass braced by columns carved with geometric patterns that probably held some significance beyond him. "I wasn't at the table with Desmond when he negotiated with Harken and Korlow, but I was part of his retinue. I continue to be a loyal servant of our new king, who is a vast improvement on his predecessors. I know how much this whole affair matters to him, and what it could mean to Benta—or cost us. I also am all too well acquainted with the Abernoth family. I know my Harken is crude, and I am sorry if I have said something to offend. I do not mean to, and apologize that I did. I only wanted you to know, here in privacy, that should you require help, you've only to contact me and I will come to your aid. I have every faith you can handle yourself, High Commander, and you have some sly shadows watching out for you." He smiled briefly. "But Benta is not Harken."
"No," Jader replied. "No, it's not. I appreciate the support, my lord. Hopefully your help will not be needed, but I'm grateful it's there." He looked out over the pond, frozen along the edges. "Will the pond freeze?"
"Yes. When we were children we'd go ice—damn, I don't know the word in Harken. Skating is the Bentan word."
Jader shook his head. "I'm not familiar."
"Describing it will sound like madness, so you will simply have to come down and go ice skating with me before you leave."
"I will do my best, my lord," Jader said, equal parts curious and terrified.
"So what did I say that so clearly offended you?"
Jader's mouth tightened, and he finally dragged his gaze away from the pond. "You tell me I've done well despite being a Farlander—and while Farlander is not an insult, we call ourselves Islanders."
"I didn't—" Wessler stopped. "You're right. I apologize. I was never told of 'Islander'. I'll remember it. That wasn't all, though."
"It's true I have no memory of the Bentan boy everyone says I was," Jader replied heavily. "That is the point everyone is missing. Trevin is dead, and nobody seems to care about who I am now. I have not forgotten who I am, but nobody listens when I try to tell them."
Wessel stared at him briefly before nodding slowly. "You're right, my lord. I am sorry—again. I can only say that hope has gotten the better of them; they may come to understand in time. My impression had been that you were as eager to be here as they were to have you. I apologize for the misunderstanding; I can see now why you would not be entirely enthused."
"No, but I can understand why they are, and I would like them to be happy. But whatever happens, my home is Harken."
"I hope we do not keep you away overlong, though Benta is not a terrible place and I hope you find some joy in your stay, my lord."
"It's been nothing close to terrible my lord, I promise."
Wessel smiled. "Good. Shall we return to the house before your shadows come to defend your virtue?"
"Virtue?" Jader laughed. "Not a concept Harken has much taste for, my lord, but I appreciate the joke. I think if that were all they feared, they would leave me to make my own decisions, foolish or not. But I have a lover back home."
Cocking his head slightly, Wessel said, "Not that I'm offering, no matter how captivating I find you, but I thought it was common practice for Islanders to take multiple lovers."
"Only when it's agreed upon by all parties. There are methods to what others presume is madness, or shamelessness. Mainlanders look askance at tiresome attitudes like virtue, but they also like to turn around and judge us for being even more open-minded." Completely dismissing all manner of hypocrisy in t
he process, but if they were interested in common sense and honesty, they would have no reason at all to hate Islanders.
"I see. Your lover should count themself fortunate."
Jader thought of Kamir, shy and sweet, bright and beautiful, so vibrant and alive when he was given a chance to shine. He deserved infinitely better than Jader. "I'm the fortunate one, my lord, but thank you."
Wessel smiled and clapped him congenially on the back. "Shall we return, then? I fear you will freeze to death with so little heft to you."
"I'm going to get teased a lot for that," Jader said with a sigh. "I did have one other question, if you'll permit."
"Of course."
"My guards heard troubling rumors in the city regarding rebels—how big a problem are they, really? We heard nothing about them back in Harken, and I feel we should have been apprised, especially since my very presence seems to be causing more strife."
Wessel's face clouded. "I see. To be honest, I hadn't heard myself they were getting that bad. His Majesty of course mentioned the matter, but he led me to believe they were trifling. Either he is lying, which I doubt, given his high regard for Harken—especially the High Consort—or he is not properly informed himself, which is vastly more troubling. I'll write him at once on the matter and bring you whatever information I receive. But out here I do not think you've anything to fear. Such groups are largely in the cities, where they can gather in houses and clubs to rail against the world while they drink too much. No doubt all your presence is doing is causing them to break some furniture, as well."
"That is certainly reassuring to hear, thank you, and again for keeping me apprised of whatever His Majesty might tell you. Now I am more than happy to go back inside where it's warm."
"Best get used to it," Wessel replied cheerfully. "Come on, I am fairly certain you've never had hot chocolate with whipped cream, and that is a very good reason to visit Benta."