An Imperial Gambit (Wardens of Issalia Book 3)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

“Psst.”

  The sound came from the shadow-filled garden behind her.

  “Over here.”

  Quinn slipped through the shrubs along the path and found Brandt waiting in the shadows, his silhouette barely visible.

  “I have your pack,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Thank Issal,” she whispered. “I feared that someone had found it and taken it.”

  “Someone did.” The white of his teeth revealed his grin.

  She smiled and shook her head. He has a way of dispelling my tension. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. After I found your pack, I gave myself an augmentation.”

  He bent over and scooped her up. The way he squeezed her – with her arms crushed against her chest – made her grunt and left her fighting for breath.

  “Sorry,” he said as his grip loosened. “How’s this?”

  She breathed deeply and freed an arm to grip his wrist. “Yes. Much better.”

  “Well, I don’t want to drop you, nor do I wish to crush you. It’s no simple feat to judge my strength when filled with Power.”

  “Yes. I know, remember?” she replied, her tone sardonic.

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Right.”

  With a pack over each shoulder, he ducked beneath a branch and walked toward the outer wall.

  “Did you get the map?” she asked.

  “Yes. I took it from the tower and hid it in my room as we discussed. To add some spice, I made a few notes on the map that might give them pause.” He chuckled at his own statement.

  “Brandt…” Her tone was one of warning. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “Funny. I have never painted outside the lines before. How odd of me.” He stopped in an open area, twenty feet from the wall.

  “Sarcasm? Now? You know this is a serious matter?” She couldn’t stop grinning.

  He smiled at her. “All the more reason for it.”

  “You are incorrigible,” she laughed.

  “Isn’t that part of my appeal?” He looked up, his humor falling away as he focused on the wall. “Now, hold on.”

  With two running steps, he leaped. The force of their upward acceleration drove Quinn’s body against his chest. They easily cleared the thirty-foot wall before they began to fall. Quinn closed her eyes, fearing what might wait below while her stomach fluttered from the rapid descent.

  The landing again drove her body hard against his arms, arms hardened like steel. She grunted at the force and opened her eyes to find they had landed in a quiet plaza, at the midpoint between glowlamps lighting the corners. Brandt twisted, tipped her up, and set her feet on the cobblestone-covered ground. Quinn stood, stretched, and worked the kinks out of her neck.

  “Are you all right?”

  She smiled at the concern in his voice. “I’ll live. Let’s go.”

  They headed east, away from the harbor. The city gates would be closed for the night, but that wall was no taller than the citadel wall. Once beyond it, they would get far from the city and find a quiet place to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day.

  25

  Thief of Hearts

  Brandt opened his eyes to the pale light of breaking dawn. Hair of gold lay before him. He craned his neck and sniffed, the hair smelling of flowers and spice, like its owner’s enticing appearance and contrasting spitfire personality.

  Quinn’s back was facing him, his arm wrapped about her midriff. Her cloak covered them while his lay between them and the forest floor. The warmth from Quinn warded off the damp chill of the morning air. Despite all that was wrong with the world, nothing had ever seemed so right. Waking with her beside him made the dangerous nature of their mission worth it, even if just for this moment. Brandt didn’t want to move for fear of waking her and ending the perfection.

  The squawking of a nearby bird broke the spell, causing Quinn to stir. She opened her eyes, blinking away lingering sleep.

  She looked at him and frowned. “Why are you staring at me with a smile on your face? Do I look horrible?”

  He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Anything but.”

  “The sun is rising. We should pack up and get started.”

  She stood and dumped her cloak over his head. He pulled it away and watched her as she stretched. Dressed all in black with leather padding on her torso and shoulders, forearms covered by plated bracers, she appeared almost as tough as she was in reality. Tight breeches and tall boots highlighted her lean, athletic figure. He continued to watch her as she squatted, scooped up her swords, and belted them to her waist.

  Quinn looked down at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you watching me?”

  He flashed her a smile. “Guilty.”

  “Well…it’s kind of creepy.”

  “What’s creepy about it?” He was incredulous. “Is it so wrong to admire beauty?”

  “I don’t know.” She wore a half smirk while she looked at him. “It kind of makes me feel like a wench in a tavern doing a dance for the men in the room.”

  He rose to his feet, collected his cloak, and held the other cloak out toward her. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Quinn glared at him as she snatched the cloak away.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you’re a tavern wench or anything. I just don’t see anything wrong with appreciating the appearance of another person…especially someone who has stolen your heart.”

  Her gray eyes softened to blue as she stared at him, her hard shell falling away. “Your heart?”

  He shrugged. “It feels that way.”

  She slid in closer, her eyelids at half-mast, biting her lip as she smirked. “So, am I a thief of hearts, now?”

  His arms slipped around Quinn, and her lips met his. He fell into the kiss, reveling in the moment while embracing the girl in his arms. The thumping of his heart was a drum in his ears, and the world was perfect again. Too soon, she slipped away, leaving Brandt to deal with the storm of emotion raging inside him.

  “Since I have stolen your heart,” she said as she gathered her pack and water skin, “you had better follow along. You don’t want me selling it to the first woman I see.”

  She turned and walked toward the fields to the south.

  “What?” He stuffed his cloak into his pack, tossed the pack and his water skin over his shoulder, and scrambled after her. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Quinn chuckled as he caught up to her. “You know me better than that. I am far too loyal to sell your heart.”

  He released an exaggerated sigh as he played along. “Thank Issal.”

  They left the shadows of the trees and entered a field of yellowed, knee-high grass before turning east. The sun, edging over the hills at the horizon, forced Brandt to squint.

  “No.” Quinn said, her tone wistful. “If I decide I am through with your heart, I’ll just smash it to bits and throw it into the sea.”

  Alarmed, he turned toward her and found her expression lacking any semblance of humor.

  Air bubbles arose from the river as Brandt filled his waterskin. Once full, he stood, capped the waterskin, and climbed the riverbank to join Quinn beside the road.

  “I would like to know how long it will be before we reach Vinata,” she said as she stared toward the northeast.

  Brandt swung his pack around, dug inside, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. With a furrowed brow, she watched as he unfolded it. “What’s that?”

  “A map. I copied it from the one you stole. Of course, I only copied the area north of Sol Polis, so it’s much smaller in scale.”

  She leaned close, examining it. “This is pretty decent. You have some skill in this area.”

  He snorted. “Blame Master Padia. Among other things, she taught me, my sister, and my brother cartography.”

  “Maps.” She gave him a sidelong look. “You know how to draw maps?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I did have an extensive education. I’m a prince, remember?”

  “Shh.” Quinn looked around
, obviously finding nobody listening. They were in the middle of nowhere.

  “I think we are pretty safe from prying ears, you know.”

  “You can’t be too careful.” She leaned close. “Where are we now?”

  He pointed toward where the road and river intersected. “We are here, roughly a quarter the way between Sol Polis and Vinata. We walked for an hour last night to our camp.” His finger traced their route as he spoke. “We’ve been on the road another two hours this morning. If it took three hours to get this far, it will likely take another nine hours to reach Vinata.”

  Quinn’s lips pressed together and nodded while staring at the map. She then pointed toward an area northwest of Vinata. “What’s this?”

  “I think it’s a road, one not shown on other maps.” Brandt recalled tracing that particular element very carefully. “We need to find it and follow it to a castle in the mountains between Vinata and Yarth.”

  “Well, let’s get moving. It gets dark early now, and the sun will have set by the time we reach Vinata.” She turned and began walking at a fast clip. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t care for our late stroll last night. We were lucky we didn’t get injured or lost in the dark woods.”

  He caught up to her. “I could always heal you if something happened.”

  “And what about you?” She slowed, glaring at him. “You can’t heal yourself, and I certainly can’t do it.”

  She’s too smart sometimes. “True.” His stomach rumbled, unsatisfied by the hard rolls and cold sausage he had eaten for breakfast. “Nine hours is a long time yet. Although a soft bed sounds wonderful, I can’t wait for a good, hot meal. The rations I packed aren’t exactly food fit for a prince.”

  She chuckled. “Careful. If you continue whining, Jonah is going to think you’re after his crown as the King of Complaints.”

  He glared at her subtle smirk. “Do you lack sympathy for everyone, or just for me?”

  She patted his cheek. “Only for you, my Prince.”

  He shook his head but was unable to restrain a grin. “I find it quite unfair that Issal saw fit to make us men desire you women so, only to have you constantly confusing us and leaving us wondering why you make us suffer.”

  Quinn laughed. “Suffering and love, love and suffering. All the best stories connect one to the other.”

  His smile faltered, something more serious forcing it away. “Is that what this is? Between us?” Brandt watched for her response. “Love?”

  She gave him a sidelong look. “I am no expert, so I’ll not comment…at least not yet.” Her grin reappeared. “Still, you could use a bit of suffering. It builds character.”

  Brandt escorted Quinn through the streets of Vinata, glowlamps at the intersections lighting their way. They passed foot traffic while shops were closing their doors for the night. At the fifth intersection, Quinn turned and led him up the hill of a quiet side street.

  “That guard at the gate deserves a good beating,” Quinn grumbled.

  Brandt sighed. “Sometimes, it’s better to sweeten people up rather than dress them down. You can’t expect everyone to bend to your will, Quinn.”

  She stopped and glared at him, her lips pressed tightly together. “Those men saw us coming.” Her arm extended, her finger pointing back toward the gate. “We were no more than a hundred feet away when they closed the gates.”

  The fire in her eyes made him smile. He found her spirit and her unbending sense of justice endearing.

  “I don’t disagree. I also understand why you see it as a spiteful act, but they may have just been obeying orders.” He shrugged. “Then again, they may have thought it fun to make us squirm before letting us in.”

  Quinn snorted. “If I see that smart-mouthed guard again, he will be the one squirming – squirming on the ground in pain.”

  He chuckled. “Well, they did let us in after I appealed to their better nature. Perhaps you should try that next time, rather than shouting and cursing.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him for a long, quiet moment. She then sighed, “Perhaps my temper did get the better of me.” He heard an ache in her voice, as if admitting wrong caused her physical pain. “Still, that man is lucky he didn’t receive a throat punch.”

  She turned and resumed the uphill climb, forcing him to hurry to catch her. Atop the rise, the couple turned into an alley that led to a courtyard.

  “This is it. Pintalli’s Inn.” Quinn said as she headed toward the back door. “Let me do the talking.”

  “Well, I hope you intend to treat the owner better than the guard back there. I doubt a throat punch will get us a meal or a room for the night.” He could not restrain his grin, despite the glare she gave him.

  When Quinn opened the door, the inn greeted them with noisy chatter and the aroma of grilled fish. While it wasn’t his favorite meal, Brandt’s stomach growled and his mouth watered in anticipation.

  They stepped into a busy taproom with only a few tables unoccupied. The bar stood directly to their left, and Quinn went straight for it, pulling up a stool. Brandt did likewise as he removed his pack and cloak. With the cloak piled atop the pack, Brandt leaned on his elbows and eyed a waitress who passed by with two steaming plates of food.

  The middle-aged man behind the bar was short, with black hair and a black mustache, waxed and curled in typical Vinacci fashion. After refilling two goblets of wine, the barkeep pocketed the coppers pushed toward him and looked in Quinn’s direction. His eyes widened, and he put on a smile while bustling over.

  “I never forget a pretty face,” the barkeep crooned. “You were here a number of weeks back.”

  Quinn flashed a friendly smile. “Hello, Pintalli. Yes, I stopped by here on my way to Sol Polis. At the time, I was accompanied by a quite iconic companion whom I believe you know.”

  The man dipped his head in acknowledgement, his eyes shifting toward Brandt. “Yes. I recall. What brings you back? Is all well?”

  Quinn gazed at Brandt as she replied, “This is my friend…my boyfriend. He and I are taking a trip together.”

  Pintalli grinned at Brandt. “Boyfriend, eh?” He leaned closer. “Good luck. I hear she’s a feisty one.”

  Brandt chuckled. “You have no idea.”

  Pintalli shifted his focus back to Quinn. “Judging by your outfit, your trip appears…dangerous.”

  “Well…this is a bit of a hunting trip. In fact, we plan to purchase a few items before we leave Vinacci.”

  “I know a few shops who owe me a favor or two. I bet I could get you a good price.”

  Quinn smiled. “I knew I came to the right place.”

  Pintalli smiled in return. “Glad to help. Now, speaking of business, would you be interested in a room, dinner, or drinks?”

  Brandt interjected, slapping the bar. “Yes! All of the above, my good man.”

  Quinn scowled at him, and Pintalli laughed.

  “All right.” Pintalli said with a smile. “After I pour you each a glass from my favorite vineyard, I’ll order two plates from the kitchen.” He leaned over the bar, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. “You’re in luck. I happen to have the best cook in Vinacci, but don’t tell her that. She might ask for more money.”

  Brandt’s brow furrowed. “If she’s so wonderful, why not just pay her more?”

  “Because,” he grinned broadly, “she’s my wife.”

  26

  Missive

  Iko kept his stance balanced, shield in position, sword ready to respond. His opponents eyed him, likely searching for a weakness to exploit. They would find none.

  Ydith lunged with a thrust Iko redirected with a twist of his sword. She was quick, but so was he. As expected, Berd attacked the moment Ydith engaged. Iko blocked the big man’s swing with his shield and grunted from the impact. Spinning away, Iko brought his sword around in an arc to keep either guard from advancing.

  In a bold move, Ydith drove forward with a thrust before Iko’s shield could come around. He twisted an
d hacked at her hand, striking it hard. Her wooden sword fell to the dirt as she cried out in pain. Berd then barreled toward Iko, his sword flashing side to side, forcing Iko backward in a series of rapid, jarring blocks.

  After four steps, Iko smacked the man’s sword aside with his shield, spun in a crouch so the return strike flew over him, and swung low at his opponent. The wooden sword struck Berd’s ankle. Hard. Berd roared in pain and hobbled backward. Iko charged at Berd, going for the kill.

  Berd blocked the first swing and the second, but he doubled over when a thrust slipped through his defense and Iko’s sword buried itself in his abdomen. The man stumbled backward and fell to one knee, coughing.

  Iko lowered his sword and glanced toward Ydith, who had moved to the side of the floor. The scowl and narrowed eyes she directed toward Iko were expected. The woman did not like to lose. A healer walked in and approached Berd, but the man waved her off.

  “No. A little pain will do me good.” Berd growled. He held one hand to his stomach, wincing as he limped toward Iko. Extending a thick hand, Berd gave Iko a nod. “You have skill, Ikonis. If they ever resurrect the dueling championships, you might consider entering.”

  Iko shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Berd. And thanks for the duel as well. It’s good to remain in practice. Besides, sitting around in this palace is agonizing. A bit of action to keep me occupied is much appreciated.” Iko turned toward Ydith, “Thank you as well, Ydith. Sorry about your hand.”

  The woman turned away and muttered. “Sure. Anytime.”

  Berd limped over to her, clapping her on the shoulder. “Come on, girl. You can’t win every time. Besides, losing to someone as skilled as young Ikonis is no slight.” The man leaned close to her and whispered, just loud enough for Iko to hear. “I doubt the Archon would be happy if we hurt him anyway.”

  Ydith grunted and headed toward the door to the barracks.

  Iko approached the weapon rack and returned the wooden sword and shield. He then bent, picked up his scabbard, and began belting it back into place.