Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2)

by Callie Kanno

  “They expect me to sleep here?” he muttered incredulously.

  You are a guest of the king, Iona reminded him.

  “No,” Idris contradicted, “Lenora is a guest of the king. I am just a foreign soldier following her around.”

  Well, the Roshumin do not know that.

  Idris frowned at his surroundings. “A house this size has to have a regular room somewhere.”

  You wish to sleep in the servants’ quarters? Iona sounded amused.

  “Why not?” Idris shrugged. “I am not much more than a servant myself.”

  Iona’s amusement vanished. You bear the weapon of Marlais Dragonspear, she pointed out sharply. You are a great deal more than a common servant.

  “Do not be angry,” he urged her. “There is nothing wrong with living a life of service.”

  Serving others does not make you a servant, Iona maintained. Marlais dedicated his entire life to others, but no one would dare call him less than what he was—a warrior and a hero.

  “I suppose you are right,” Idris conceded. “But I am still a long ways from being the kind of soldier that Marlais was.”

  Everyone starts somewhere, Iona replied.

  The partisan was rarely so encouraging about Idris’s potential. He felt a surge of affection for his weapon, which he knew she could feel.

  You had better clean up and return downstairs, she said brusquely. Do not keep the others waiting.

  Idris used the marble washbasin to scrub his hands and face. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to freshen up his appearance, so he simply left it at that. He walked out of his room, meeting up with Aherin as he made his way downstairs.

  “Is your room as ridiculous as mine?” Aherin chuckled quietly.

  Idris was relieved that he wasn’t the only one who thought so. “Yes,” he laughed.

  They met Hildar at the bottom of the stairs, who was looking quite satisfied. She smiled when she saw them. “Is it not refreshing to finally have proper accommodations?”

  Idris and Aherin avoided looking at each other, each suppressing the urge to laugh again. “Yes,” they both murmured with twitching smiles.

  The three young soldiers walked into the dining room, where Cowan and Kurag were already waiting. Lenora was nowhere to be seen yet, but that didn’t seem to surprise anyone. Idris knew that she would need to fully assume her role as a Breenite princess while she was in Bunarat.

  When Lenora did appear, she looked absolutely stunning. Her vivid red hair was still wet from her bath, but it was coiled elaborately on the top of her head. The simple golden chain that connected the rings on her nose and ear was replaced with one that had dangling jewels. Her dress was made of dark green silk, with gold embroidery glittering in the lamplight.

  Hildar jabbed her elbow into Idris’s ribs. “Do not stare,” she hissed.

  Idris honestly didn’t know how to stop himself. He caught Lenora’s eye, which only caused him to stare more. Her dark blue eyes were filled with lively confidence, animating her entire face. She flashed him one of their private smiles before gliding to the head of the dining table.

  Everyone else sat down once the princess was seated. The Breenite ambassador and Captain Cowan were closest to Lenora, while Idris was at the opposite end of the table. Idris decided that he didn’t mind, as it gave him the opportunity to look at Lenora without being too obvious.

  A stream of servants entered the room, carrying plates of food to be offered to each of the guests. Idris didn’t recognize most of the dishes, so he simply took a little of everything that was available. He hadn’t had anything other than traveler’s fare since leaving Hollow Cry Tower, so his appetite was welcoming to the change.

  Once the servants left the room, the ambassador cleared his throat. “While I am always pleased to see your highness,” he began politely, “I am wondering the purpose of this visit. Your royal mother did not seem clear on your intentions either when she wrote to me.”

  Lenora turned her gaze to Cowan, inviting him to speak with a wave of her hand. The captain was surprisingly candid in his response. “We are members of the Calaris Royal Guard, on a mission sanctioned by King Nikolas. We crossed into Breen to visit Hollow Cry Tower, where we discovered we would need to travel to Roshum. Since Calaris and Roshum are on the brink of war, Princess Lenora offered to use her position to sneak us over the border.”

  If any of this information startled the ambassador, he didn’t show it. He simply chewed his food with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Your intention is to leave Bunarat during the princess’s stay?” he clarified.

  “Yes,” acknowledged Cowan.

  “How do you propose to explain the sudden disappearance of the princess’s guards?” queried the ambassador.

  “I can use some of the Breenite soldiers stationed here,” Lenora said with a small shrug. “I doubt King Lot will notice the different faces, as long as the number is the same.”

  The ambassador didn’t look convinced. “Except we do not have any female soldiers here,” he pointed out, “or men of exceptional stature.”

  All eyes flickered to Hildar and Kurag before returning to Lenora. The princess didn’t seem bothered by the issue. “I am certain I can keep the royal court busy enough so they are not worried about such details.”

  The ambassador dabbed his mouth with a square of cloth. “Yes, about that. Your royal mother seemed particularly concerned about the current…social situation here in Bunarat. She instructed that I keep you clear of it.”

  Lenora tilted her head. “Oh? And what is that?”

  “Prince Lotinn, oldest son of King Lot and Queen Tilna, has declared his intentions to find a wife,” the ambassador explained. “It has been speculated by certain members of the court that this is the true purpose of your highness’s visit to Bunarat.”

  Idris felt a jolt of anger at the Roshumin nobility. How dare they assume that Lenora would be so desperate as to throw herself at the nearest prince available!

  “This is perfect,” Lenora declared unexpectedly. “The entire city will be so distracted with speculation that no one will care what happens to my companions.”

  The ambassador seemed genuinely distressed. “This is not a game, your highness. If it appears to King Lot that you desire a union with his son, he will actively pursue it. He may pursue it even if you do not show interest.”

  “That is a problem for my grandfather to handle,” Lenora said with a shrug.

  “Your royal mother will be very angry if I allow this to happen,” moaned the ambassador.

  Lenora gave him a playful smile. “You are her favorite cousin. She will not have you executed.”

  “I would not be so certain,” he muttered.

  “I do not think this is a good idea,” Idris burst out before he could stop himself.

  Every set of eyes turned to stare at him, each expressing surprise that he would speak out of turn. He could feel his face flaming, but it was too late to change his words now. “Princess Lenora has already risked so much to help us,” Idris went on lamely. “This is something that can alter the relationship between Roshum and Breen.”

  “The boy makes a very good point,” agreed the ambassador.

  Everyone’s gaze turned away from Idris except for Lenora’s. She studied him intently, as if weighing the real purpose behind his words. He stared at his plate, desperately wishing that his cheeks would stop burning.

  “I will be perfectly proper,” Lenora vowed solemnly. “I do not believe in toying with a man’s feelings.”

  Idris’s eyes flew upward to meet Lenora’s. Her expression was as soft as a caress, soothing his troubled heart. He understood what she was trying to say, and it set his mind at rest.

  “Well, if this is what you insist on doing…” the ambassador relented.

  The conversation around the table went on, making plans for the next few days. Idris paid none of it any mind. He spent the remainder of the meal stealing glances at Lenora, savoring the words sh
e had spoken.

  Their time together may be coming to a close, but it had meant as much to her as it had to him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Warmongers

  Idris was feeling listless the next morning. He had not slept well on his overstuffed bed, nor had the fancy supper agreed with his stomach. Most of all, his optimistic attitude about parting with Lenora had faded, leaving behind a void in his heart.

  He got up early so he could take a bath and wash his hair. He had washed his clothes the night before, so he hoped that Lenora’s parting memory of him would be favorable. “Not that it really matters,” he muttered to himself.

  Do not sulk, farmer, Iona reprimanded from across the room. The partisan was propped up against the wall near the bed.

  “I am not sulking,” he insisted. “I am simply ridding myself of the foolish expectations that I have allowed to grow in my mind.”

  You are sulking, Iona repeated. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, why not consider the true nature of the matter? Suppose you had the opportunity to marry Lenora. You would have two options: give up your position to stay with her in Breen, or she could give up her title to live with you in Calaris. In either scenario, do you think you would be happy in the long run?

  Idris hated to admit it, but he knew that Iona was right. Neither of them would be happy for long. Lenora would never be content knowing she had turned her back on her family duty, and Idris would live a life of regret if he chose to give up his partisan. He would always wonder what might have been.

  It is easy to be swayed by the happiness you would feel now, Iona said gently, but that is only a small part of the consideration. Many things bring temporary happiness, but only some things provide lasting joy. You should seek for joy instead of settling for simple happiness.

  Idris smiled ruefully. “When did you become so wise about human emotions?”

  Iona chuckled. Marlais put in a lot of effort to teach me such things. I suppose it was not entirely a waste.

  Once Idris was washed and dressed, he strapped his weapon to his back while exiting his room. He was startled when he opened the door to find Lenora standing on the other side with a hand poised to knock.

  “Oh,” she gasped. Then she smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he replied automatically, even though his thoughts were spinning.

  The princess was dressed as formally as she had been the night before, with jewels and silks accenting her naturally beautiful features. The Breenite ambassador must’ve taken the time to provide her with a new wardrobe, because Idris had never seen her wear such finery.

  “I thought it would be nice to visit the local marketplace,” Lenora explained. “As a princess, it will be expected that I have an escort.”

  “I see,” Idris said slowly.

  “Also,” Lenora added softly, “I would like to spend some time with you before you go.”

  Idris’s heart quickened at her candid words. His disappointment at her motives of propriety transformed into pure delight. “I would like that, too,” he grinned.

  She smiled in return. “Wonderful. Here, I brought you something to eat while we walk.”

  She handed him a small loaf of bread, which had dried fruit baked into it. Then they turned to walk down the stairs. Captain Cowan was eating breakfast in the dining room when they strolled past the door. He took note of their passing, but didn’t say anything. Idris took that as permission to continue.

  The morning was beautiful, with spring weather in full force. Bunarat was almost as far north as Rest Stone Valley, which meant that his home would be experiencing similar conditions. Trees and flowers were blooming, filling the air with delicate scents. As they walked through the manor’s garden, Idris reached down to pluck a ruffled blossom from a flower bed. He offered it to Lenora with a bashful grin.

  A flush of red touched her cheeks, but she seemed pleased with the gesture. “Thank you,” she said with a returning smile. She tucked the flower gently into a fold of her dress, as if she intended to keep it forever.

  Once they passed beyond the borders of the Breenite manor, they each assumed the role they were expected to play. Lenora looked every bit the part of royal princess, while Idris stayed half a step behind her as was befitting a personal guard.

  Apparently, the wealthy citizens of Bunarat preferred to have a market of their own, away from the lower classes of the city. It was not a place Idris would’ve felt comfortable venturing had he been on his own. Everyone was dressed in their finest, including the merchants. There was no yelling to attract custom; each transaction was conducted with quiet dignity. Small gifts were given to customers, as if to thank them for their purchase.

  Lenora was given special attention, as she was easily identified by her jewelry. Merchants offered her gifts, even when she didn’t purchase anything from them. The only item she did purchase was a length of rough cloth, which she tucked under her arm without explanation. Idris offered to carry it for her, but she declined with a smile.

  The local nobility was particularly amusing for Idris to watch. They all looked as if they wanted to introduce themselves to Lenora, but none of them quite dared. Perhaps it was considered a breach of protocol. Instead, they hovered near her or found excuses to walk past her multiple times.

  One daring man finally bridged the social gap when Lenora began inspecting a booth full of strange looking tools. “Forgive me, your highness, for my lack of manners, but I think you do not need such devices.”

  Lenora turned to him, raising an eyebrow delicately. “Oh?”

  The man looked to be in his mid-forties, with broad shoulders and strong features. He looked every bit a soldier, but with the unmistakable refinement of privileged upbringing. His eyes traveled to Idris’s jeweled weapon, lingering for a moment before returning to Lenora. “These are tools to aid in securing one’s home, should the armies of Calaris find their way to Bunarat. As a cousin to King Nikolas, I doubt you would find yourself in such danger.”

  Lenora seemed to be considering the man’s words, but Idris was more concerned with his motives. The princess inclined her head. “It is my hope that such devices will not be necessary for anyone.”

  Her words seemed to grant the man permission to continue talking to her. The other Roshumin nobles glared at the man for accomplishing what they had not.

  “I am Lord Samnis,” the man introduced himself. “I have had the honor of meeting your father in the past, but I do not believe we have met.”

  Lenora’s eyes widened. “We may not have met, but I am quite familiar with your name. You are King Lot’s most talented general.”

  Samnis waved aside her comment. “Most stories of me are greatly exaggerated.”

  “My father did not believe so,” Lenora replied.

  The soldier couldn’t contradict her anymore without challenging the word of the crown prince of Breen, so he simply shrugged and moved on. “Again, I apologize for my terrible lack of manners, but I am very glad to have met you.”

  “Yes,” Lenora agreed, “I am glad as well.”

  Idris expected the conversation to end there, but it didn’t. Instead, they turned away from the market booths to stroll down the cobblestone street. Idris followed behind them, scowling at the back of Samnis’s head.

  Lenora’s brow furrowed thoughtfully as she spoke. “Do you really think that Calaris will attack Roshum?”

  Samnis appeared genuinely hesitant to answer. “King Nikolas is your cousin,” he began slowly.

  “Yes,” Lenora urged, “but I am not so foolish as to believe that he is without faults.”

  “He dreams of the glory of past kings,” Samnis said finally. “He craves to bring Calaris to a golden age of power and prosperity.”

  “My grandfather has similar desires for Breen,” Lenora nodded.

  “And I for Roshum,” Samnis acknowledged. “However, most rulers and soldiers count the cost for such ambitions.”

  “You do not think Nikolas is aware of su
ch things?” suggested Lenora.

  Samnis pressed his lips together. “I do not think the cost weighs enough on his mind. Soldiers are more than just tally marks in a ledger. Every battle is bought with lives.”

  “King Nikolas knows that,” Idris burst out, no longer able to contain his irritation.

  Lenora and Samnis both stopped, turning back to stare at him in surprise. Idris wanted to stand his ground—to defend his king—but it was difficult to do under the intense gaze of Lord Samnis. “Please forgive my guard,” Lenora said with a warning in her voice that was directed at Idris. “He is new to his post and still learning his place.”

  Idris hated that she had to apologize for him. What did this Roshumin know about King Nikolas anyway? Lord Samnis spoke as if he was so much better than other soldiers, but a man didn’t become a general without fighting in many battles.

  “I suppose I cannot blame the boy,” Samnis said lightly, continuing on his walk with the princess. “King Nikolas is masterful at crafting his image. The Calarisians revere him as an almost deity. He has them trained to believe that being a soldier is the highest calling, and that every war they fight is perfectly just.”

  “I am certain that not every person in Calaris is of that opinion,” said Lenora.

  “Enough of them are,” Samnis replied, sounding disgusted. “Just look at this latest confrontation. King Lot has given his word that he had nothing to do with the attempt on King Nikolas’s life, but every person in Calaris is still howling for the blood of the Roshumin. They do not care about the truth, they simply want to go to war.”

  Idris found himself clenching his fists until they had gone white. Lord Samnis didn’t know what he was talking about. Idris had been there! He had fought against the assassins that had tried to kill King Nikolas. He had heard the Roshumin soldiers brag about their plan to overthrow Calaris. Those were not things that could be excused as some sort of misunderstanding.

  The trio came to the end of the market street, where Lenora smiled politely. “Thank you for your company and conversation, Lord Samnis. Will I be seeing you at the reception tonight?”