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

by Megan Derr

  So yes, he'd needed the reminder: he didn't need anyone but himself to get things accomplished. Chin jutting out, Kamir rose and went to wash his face, then unlocked and opened his office door, and settled back at his desk. The first thing he reached for was the mail, set in a small basket at the front right corner of his desk. Letters from the groundskeeper and housekeeper, bills from various traders, copies of letters of recommendation for the additional staff the housekeeper wanted to hire, personal bills for the last few items he'd had delivered to the house… and a letter bearing Jader's familiar script.

  Hands shaking slightly, though for the life of him he couldn't say why he was nervous, Kamir snatched up his letter opener and slit the wax seal. Pulling out the letter, he settled back in his chair and read.

  Dear Kamir,

  Every other letter I have written today has been filled with political machinations and dutiful reports, so I hope you will permit me to chatter rather more inanely at you.

  I vehemently dislike the cold of this country. Have you ever endured snow? If not, I hope you continue to avoid it. Visitors to the Islands always gripe about the heat, and every time I rolled my eyes. But if they felt the heat the way I feel this cold, I am sorry for so callously disregarding them because I fucking hate this wretched weather.

  Not all of it is bad, of course. Much of the food is rather bland, but they make excellent beer and something called hot chocolate that I've grown rather fond of. Their music is beautiful, and the countryside impressive when not covered in the deplorable snow.

  We were meant to finally be heading to Lady Krista's home today, but the snow has fallen so heavily it reaches nearly as high as the top of the doors and I'm told we will not be able to travel for a few more days at least, possibly several. Our host is Lord Wessel, and while I find him occasionally overwhelming, he's a decent enough man.

  I hope this letter finds you well, and not wanting to kill me for dumping the burden of my estate on your shoulders mere moments before I departed. I have every faith you are managing it better than I would.

  How are your children and Velina? I hope your ex-husband is leaving you alone and that you're still enjoying yourself at dinner with Allen and the others.

  Is there anything from Benta you would like to have? I am looking forward to when this snow clears and I can visit the nearby town to peruse the shops and such. It certainly will make a nice break from being stuck in houses all day having endless teas and parties and dinners. If you're inclined to reply, letters get through well enough. There is a raptor trained to fly between here (and another at the Abernoth Estate) and the port city, Jameth, and another from Jameth to Harkenesten, so they take only a matter of days.

  Thank you for tolerating my grumbling. Should you need the favor returned, consider it done.

  Sincerely,

  Jader

  Kamir read the letter over three times before he finally made himself put it away. Jader had written to him, for no reason other than to talk, to have someone to complain to. All the people Jader knew and it was Kamir he'd decided to write to.

  Was he allowed to write to Jader?

  But of course he was—Sarrica's decree was that they were forbidden to marry. But he hadn't removed Kamir as Jader's estate guardian, and he hadn't forbidden him to communicate, which Sarrica would have done if he'd wanted.

  So Jader was lost to him in some ways, and probably would be lost completely once he returned and saw Kamir was pregnant, but letters were harmless enough. He could indulge himself in Jader's company for a little longer, even if that company was only through writing.

  Smiling faintly, touching the letter through his jacket just to feel it crinkle, he finally put his attention on the rest of his work. Later that night, after he'd eaten dinner and gotten some more work done on his commissions, he'd sit in his room and write a letter to Jader. He'd write as many of them as he could before that too was taken away from him.

  He was halfway through his paperwork when the promised papers from Sarrica arrived—accompanied by Myra, Sarrica's head secretary, and a court notary. Sarrica must be even more furious than Kamir had thought to insist that his best and most important secretary personally oversee the signing and notarizing.

  Kamir motioned for them to sit as he accepted the papers. Settling in his own seat, he slowly read through them—an imperial decree that the High King was forbidding marriage, or any similar such arrangement under imperial law, between Lord Jader Star, Marquis of Kyrmine and High Commander of the Imperial Army, and Lord Kamir Norring, youngest son of the Viscount of Tesly but soon to be disowned by same.

  Tears threatened again, but Kamir angrily forced them back. Picking up his pen, he initialed and signed in all the marked places, adding his signet to the last page in purple wax.

  When he was finished, Myra signed as witness and the notary took them to put her own signature and the notary seal. "I'll submit these to the court and have an official copy sent to you, my lord. If you do not have it in two weeks, contact the court."

  "Thank you," Kamir said, and walked them to the door.

  He wished suddenly Sarrica had thought to ban him from the high table. Gossip about the imperial decree would be spread across the palace before dinner, and the only thing he dreaded more than how people would treat him was the way his mother would react. It wouldn't take long for people to deduce the reason Sarrica had issued the decree, and even if by some wild chance no one figured it out, time would provide the explanation in another month or two.

  Unless, of course, Kamir moved his family now and simply avoided court. He'd have to return for the custody hearings, so it wasn't a perfect solution, but it would ease some of the weight he could already feel pressing down on him.

  Something to discuss with Velina, and he would definitely have to look in earnest for a replacement tutor.

  So perhaps he needed to quit the office early tonight and focus on his family and moving.

  Nodding to himself, Kamir called his head secretary in and made all the necessary arrangements. He then finished up a last few bits of paperwork, tidied his desk, and left the office, walking quickly through the palace to his suite.

  Bremm was just returning with the children as Kamir stepped inside.

  "Papa!" Chiri raced down the hall to him, and Kamir bent to scoop her up. Eight years old was a touch too big to be picked up and carried around, but Kamir did it anyway for the simple, sorely needed pleasure of holding one of his children close.

  He set her down again as they reached the suite. "I hope they behaved for you, Master Bremm."

  "They always do, my lord," Bremm replied with a smile as Kamir unlocked the door and ushered everyone inside.

  Velina looked up from her knitting, surprise on her face as she saw Kamir, but she said nothing, only greeted the children and listened avidly as Chiri told her about that day's accounting of bugs and birds.

  Bremm excused himself to gather his things from the school room. Kamir went to make himself a cup of tea and settled at the table with it, mind drifting but thankfully not settling on any one thought too long.

  Finally sending the children off to their room to play, Velina joined him at the table. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing terribly important," Kamir said with a sigh, and told her.

  "Oh, Kamir…"

  He shook his head, refusing to linger on the matter because if he did, he'd get upset again, and he was already overburdening Velina with all his stupid problems. "It does drive home that perhaps we should go ahead and move. The house is nearly ready. We can manage while the last few details are put in place. The only major issue is finding a new tutor."

  Velina nodded. "I can ask around—"

  "Have I done something wrong?"

  They both jumped and turned, and Kamir felt awful that he'd forgotten Bremm had not yet left for the day. He had his satchel clung across his chest and was holding some of his textbooks in his arms.

  "I had thought I was doing well, my lord, and
I apologize for intruding on a private conversation, but…"

  Kamir pushed his tea away and stood. "You're exemplary, Master Bremm. The problem is that we are moving into the city, and I know you work exclusively in the palace. I would not dare assume you would continue to work for me once we are gone from here."

  "I work in the palace as a matter of coincidence, really," Bremm said. "A family I worked for in the city moved here, and I agreed to continue tutoring their children for an increased fee. Then my spouse got a job in the imperial library, which meant we could have free room and board. These days, however, we wouldn't mind moving back to the city, except that it would be expensive. But if I already had a job arranged…"

  "I can't currently pay more than I do," Kamir said. "Perhaps in the next year or two, I'll be able to manage a pay increase, but not right now."

  "It won't take me long to find additional clients now that I have one certain job in the city. It's only been that I do not have time to seek work while keeping up with everything here in the palace."

  Kamir smiled. "The house is plenty large enough for guests, Master Bremm. You and your spouse are certainly welcome to stay for as long as it takes to find a residence of your own. It's the least I can do."

  "We'd be honored, my lord. When are you moving?"

  "This evening, before it grows dark and the city curfew takes effect, but do not feel obligated to keep pace with us. There is going to be quite a bit of chaos for the next few days as we get settled. I know you'll need time to give notice. We can meet at the end of this week and discuss everything in detail, would that be amenable?"

  "Most amenable, my lord. Thank you, truly."

  "Thank you, Master Bremm. I'll see you in a few days. Do not worry about further lessons for now. The children will be too pre-occupied to sit still for them, anyway, I'm sure." Bremm bowed and left, and Kamir sat with a shaky laugh. "I suppose I cannot complain about the bad in my day when that sort of good falls into my path."

  Velina didn't share the laughter. "If I could break the High King's nose right now I would."

  "He's doing what he feels is best for his High Commander—more importantly, he's trying to protect a friend. Certainly in his position I would be suspicious of me. It's not as though Jader was ever going to marry me anyway, what harm is there in forbidding something that was never going to happen?"

  "Plenty of harm, to judge by the sadness in your eyes, but I'll leave the matter alone for now." She dropped her folded arms. "I think it's time you told the children the happy news—about the house. Other happy news can wait." She winked.

  Kamir dredged up a smile and finished his tea. Standing again, he led the way to the children's room. He lingered in the doorway, watching with an ache in his chest as Chiri played with her wooden dolls, acting out whatever little story she'd spun for them today. Across the room, sprawled in a nook built into the wall, Chara was reading a book.

  It was actually Chara who noticed him first, a slight frown overtaking his face. "Is it already dinner time?"

  "No," Kamir said, stepping further into the room. "Come here, children. I have something important to tell you."

  Chiri immediately abandoned her toys and raced over; Chara followed more sedately, looking pensive rather than excited.

  Kamir crouched and held out his hands, squeezing theirs when they offered them. "It's good news: I have bought us a house in the city. A space all our own, with a courtyard and garden and plenty of rooms to play in."

  There was silence for a moment, and then predictably they both burst out with more questions than Kamir could keep up with. But well over an hour later, they finally shifted from fearful to excited and would have started packing up all their toys if Kamir hadn't stopped them.

  "Get your jackets and wraps and we'll go see it. Perhaps we'll even eat dinner in the city tonight, would you like that?" They cheered very loudly that they would and raced off to get dressed.

  Kamir went to fetch his own jacket and wrap, but was waylaid by a knock at the door. Velina bustled off to get it, and returned with a letter. Kamir's heart sank as he saw Allen's personal seal. Opening the letter, he quickly read,

  Dear Lord Kamir,

  Please know I am sorry for what transpired this afternoon. The matter is being discussed. You are still quite welcome to dine with me, though of course I understand that you may not want to at this time.

  Sincerely,

  Allen

  "Is the messenger still here?"

  "Yes," Velina said.

  "I'll pen a reply," Kamir said, and hastened to his desk to do so, hating that his hand trembled. When he'd written out that he wouldn't be able to attend dinner for some time as he was going to be in the city, but he appreciated the offer and hoped Their Majesties would forgive him, he sent it off and fought against an urge to throw up.

  He was still trying to recover when another knock came at the door. This time when she opened it, Velina gasped. She stepped back and pulled the door open for someone to step inside.

  The man who did wore a teal tunic emblazoned with a skull and crossed swords, a compass in one hollow eye. He wore a sword at his hip, and there was a jagged scar cutting across one half of his face, and the eye was a strange, filmy white. Oh, Pantheon, what had he done now that His Majesty was sending Fathoms Deep to fetch him—arrest him? Surely not, even for the High King that was extreme, and Allen had sent a rather classy dismissal, all things considered. They wouldn't bother with that if they were just going to arrest him, would they? "Lord Norring?" When Kamir nodded, the man continued, "I am Sergeant Charlaine Astor, your court appointed bodyguard."

  Anger replaced Kamir's terror. "Court appointed? I know everyone thinks me hopelessly stupid and gullible, but I'm smart enough to know when the High King is inserting a spy. Don't insult me by pretending otherwise, Sergeant."

  A ghost of a smile flickered across Charlaine's mouth. "I won't deny I report to the High King—the tunic makes that clear enough—but I was not assigned as a spy, my lord. Let us say…" the smile widened by a hair, "the High King acted as he felt was best. The High Consort disagreed with his actions quite vocally. I am… something of an apology, as it were, and something of a promise. My only orders are to protect you and your family and assist you in any way you desire."

  Kamir didn't believe that for a moment; there was no way Sarrica would lend out one of his Fathoms Deep simply to play bodyguard and assistant for a person he disliked—a person he probably detested at this point. Even more laughable was the idea that Allen would be angry with Sarrica over the decree. Why should he care? The only person remotely affected by it was Kamir, and only because he was stupid enough to be at least half in love with a man hopelessly out of reach. And nobody else knew about that.

  But he would be a fool to send away a soldier from Fathoms Deep. Even Theoren would see that notorious teal and rethink his actions.

  "Very well," he said. "Thank you for taking up the duty. We were just about to leave to go visit our new home, so you have either excellent or terrible timing."

  "Excellent, I would say," Charlaine replied. "Do I need to summon extra protection to cover the carriage?"

  "There is no carriage. We're taking two horses, so you'll need a horse of your own, but that's all."

  Charlaine frowned. "That isn't safe, my lord."

  "My ex-husband is the sort to find me in dark, deserted corners, Sergeant, not crowded pavilions and public streets. One moment and we'll be ready to depart." He turned away and strode into his room, hurrying into the dressing room to find a jacket and wrap.

  And to take a moment to still his trembling, which was equal parts anger and fear. Damn it, he'd just wanted one evening to be happy, just him and his little family enjoying their new home. For all he could not complain about being protected by Fathoms Deep, whatever Charlaine said, he'd be reporting in detail to Sarrica—every last single, pathetic, humiliating detail.

  Because his life wasn't difficult enough without stealing the la
st of his dignity and privacy.

  Whatever. He could get through this. He'd gotten through everything else life had thrown at him, he could grit his teeth and muster being spied on for a few months. Eventually the challenge would end, eventually Jader would come home, and then everything would be over.

  And by that point, he'd have far more important things to worry about. He rested a hand on his stomach briefly before shrugging into his jacket and arranging his wrap around his shoulders to pull up into a hood once they were outside.

  Leaving the sanctuary of his dressing room, he headed out to show his children their new home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jader was normally content to stay in one place, for all that he'd left home and eventually landed all the way at the top of Harken. But there was a world of difference between not leaving Harkenesten Palace for days, and being stuck in a dark, stifling manor with people he wasn't comfortable around—except perhaps Wessel, who was slowly becoming a friend, despite everything. He still wished he was home running an army instead of mired in Benta playing at politics, but if there was one thing being stuck in Wessel's house had taught him, it was that moping about would accomplish nothing.

  On the other hand, he'd rather be hiding in his room moping than going downstairs to greet the latest round of guests—this one entailing another long lost family member. Jader stifled a sigh and looked one last time in the mirror, fussing with all the stiff, heavy layers of fabric that did not move with the same ease as Islander or Harken clothes, but were warm and made of all the beautiful colors he'd requested.

  Turning away, he picked up the earrings he'd selected—little dangling schools of fish, each one made from different jewels, eight of them to each ear. Perhaps it was silly, but he felt a good deal braver with that piece of home firmly in place.

  Ready as he would ever be to face more family, more strangers, and an interminable dinner party that had, because of the weather, turned into a prolonged house party, Jader finally left the relative safety of his bedroom.