Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

  Tentatively, Ash poked his head around, but upon seeing her next to the fire, relaxed and immediately joined her. Really, what did the man think, that she would invite him in while she was half-dressed?

  Sitting cross legged next to her, he gave her a game smile. “I think you’re ready for tomorrow.”

  That was not what he meant at all to say and she knew it. “You wish we could hear each other properly.”

  Ash collapsed in on himself, running a hand roughshod through his hair. “I swear at times you really can hear me. You have pinpoint accuracy, you really do.”

  “No, Ash, I cannot hear you.” Shaking her head, she tried not to groan. Or laugh. Or some mix of the two. “You’re just very predictable.”

  “I would just feel so much better about all of this if you could communicate to me properly when something is wrong,” he said for what was likely the hundredth time. Perhaps the thousandth. “And yes,” he interrupted before she could repeat herself, again, “I know that emotions are enough to tell me when you’re in danger, and I know I can find you with my eyes closed, but that doesn’t give me a lot of warning. If you could tell me when something just feels off, or ask me a question so that you don’t say or do the wrong thing, wouldn’t that be better? If we just had a bit more time…” he trailed off unhappily.

  “Time is the one thing we never seem to have enough of,” Riana opined, waxing philosophical for a moment. “If a man could bottle time and sell it, why, he’d be richer than a king. And we’d beggar ourselves buying it.”

  “Truly.” Ash stared blindly into the fireplace, falling pensive and silent.

  She stared at his profile and wondered if he knew just what it was that kept them from forming that last bond. Riana knew exactly what it was. Had, in fact, known it for at least a month now. If he would just admit to himself what he felt for her…. But telling him wouldn’t do an ounce of good, as it was something he had to realize himself or it lost half its power.

  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t nudge him now and again.

  Scooting over, she cuddled into his side, her head on his shoulder. Ash accommodated her with an arm around her waist, laying his head softly on top of hers. “Riddle me this: why does Cyr Woelfel set you so ill at ease?”

  “The man’s an uncompromising flirt and you’re gorgeous, of course he makes me nervous,” Ash retorted, although he sounded and felt more amused than upset.

  Hmm. That was not the response she’d been aiming for. Riana tried again with a different tactic. “Even though you know I’m not the least bit interested?”

  “It doesn’t stop him from trying something. And in your position as spy you can’t openly respond as you normally would. He knows that. I’m afraid he’s going to put you in an awkward and delicate situation just to watch you squirm and make me squawk.”

  Knowing Woelfel as she did, Riana was entirely inclined to agree with that analysis. But again, that wasn’t what she was aiming for. “You realize that when I’m alone with him he’s not at all flirty. He only does it in front of you to tweak your nose.”

  Ash gave her a dirty look. “Which is easily tweaked.”

  “Just so.” She grinned up at him.

  Giving a harrumph, Ash turned again to stare at the fire.

  Riana pursed her lips and frowned up at him. Still no closer to realization, was he? At this rate, they’d never make any progress to speak of.

  Manipulation was not something she cared for, and Riana felt like it had no business being in relationships, so it wasn’t something she would try. Being frank and outright sat better with her. She did recognize that in Kremser, while playing spy, was not the best time or place to force Ash out of this comfort zone he’d fallen into.

  Silently, she made a promise to herself. If Ash didn’t come to an awakening by the time they left Kremser, she would make sure it happened. Even if it meant slapping it into him.

  Chapter Twelve

  So this was the high Court of Iysh. The ceilings were high and vaulted, numerous chandeliers sparkling light onto highly polished granite floors. It certainly looked impressive and it was definitely expensive, but to Riana, it looked cold. Empty. There was not a trace of warmth or home comfort to be found anywhere. People sacrificed, bribed, and manipulated to get into this place? Whatever for?

  Riana firmly pinned a smile on her face to hide her distaste and followed Woelfel into the room. Not that he strode into the center of it. Instead, he veered to the right.

  “Woelfel!” a jovial voice slurred. Riana turned and found a man not a foot away, slightly swaying as if fighting to stay upright. His blond hair stuck out in a windswept fashion, his skin was flushed, and his clothes, while fashionable, were half-untucked and askew. Despite having called for her companion, he instead stared straight at Riana.

  In a blink, Woelfel donned his polished smile, manner genial. “Halloway. You’re in high spirits this evening. May I introduce my cousin, Saira Vaulx?”

  “A distinct pleasure, Lady Saira,” Halloway gave a hiccup, ducking into a bow that almost ended in a face plant at her feet. Miraculously, he caught his balance at the last possible second and lurched back upright.

  Halloway, the ex-captain? Riana wasn’t sure how to respond to this obviously drunk lordling. She tried a game smile. “A pleasure, I’m sure, Lord Halloway.”

  Flinging his arms out wide, Halloway rocked back on his heels, stumbled, and caught himself again. “What do you think of the place?”

  When in doubt, compliment? “It’s very grand.”

  That amused him and he laughed boisterously. “Grand, she says! And she’s not wrong.” For just a moment, he looked sober. “Woelfel, guide her properly.”

  Woelfel gave him a half-bow, accepting the order.

  Satisfied, Halloway went back to being drunk and a little too loud. “Enjoy Court, Lady Saira! For it offers many pleasures.”

  “I shall try,” she promised. Watching him stagger off, she glanced at Woelfel and asked in a bare whisper, “Friend?”

  “Yes.” He mouthed, Later.

  Too complicated to explain in this crowd of eavesdroppers, eh? She’d ask later, then. Still, she had the impression that his drunken behavior was just a charade of Halloway’s.

  As they moved, she heard multiple conversations about the war, the troops deployed to Estole and the amazing progress they had already made in winning. This last part had Woelfel and Riana hiding smiles. The truth was quite the opposite. The troops likely had just barely arrived! It appeared the war propaganda machine was working zealously well.

  Since the topic was already in play, the stage was very well set for a campaign of misinformation. Riana had a slight stumbling block of not knowing more than two souls in the entire room, but Woelfel was with her for that reason. To introduce her and open doors so she could get to work.

  “Woelfel!” a voice called.

  Riana automatically turned toward it, thinking that this might be her chance to start, but Woelfel caught her by the elbow and stopped her short. “Not him,” he denied even as he smiled and gave a wave to the person hailing him. “No one would introduce a woman to that lot with a clear conscious. That’s Larcinese.”

  Riana took good note of that face. So that was the contender, Axley’s, favorite lackey, eh? She’d need to avoid that crowd at all times if possible.

  “Go get some punch,” Woelfel encouraged.

  That was their code phrase for when Riana needed to be elsewhere. Nodding in understanding, she moved off. There was a refreshment table over here somewhere. In eight layers and in a more southern clime, Riana felt a little overheated. And this was still winter. Perhaps it was due to the press of bodies in here and the two roaring fires on either side of the room that made it feel this hot?

  A buffet table with a variety of delectables and three separate punch bowls were arrayed for the pleasure of anyone in attendance. Riana scooped up a delicate glass of punch, took one sip, and realized it had been made with a significant portio
n of rum. Erk. She didn’t care for alcohol to begin with, but to get tipsy here? Incredibly stupid decision. She was caught, though, as she couldn’t just put it back down.

  Well, perhaps she could use it as a prop while she made the rounds. Putting on a smile, she went looking for a handy target. There were several people clustered in front of the orchestra so she headed there, rehearsing in her head an opening line or three that might get a conversation started.

  One man seemed to be standing more or less on his own, so she started with him. He was a bit round around the gut, dark brown hair thinning on top, with a very styled mustache that curled up on either side. He also had a gold pin on his lapel that was in the shape of a musical note on a staff line. This wouldn’t happen to be that useless Minister of Music, would it?

  “Forgive me, my lord?”

  He turned and gave her a once-over, eyes widening a little. “My dear lady, I do not believe we are acquainted.”

  And it was rude to just introduce yourself, Riana had been taught that, but spies couldn’t depend on propriety all of the time. “We are not, pray forgive me, I am just dying to know what music is playing now. It’s quite enchanting. Do you know the name of the song?”

  He puffed out his chest, pleased with her praise as if he were the one actually performing. “Indeed I do, young lady. It is called Nightingale’s Love Song and was written by Sir Robert Duningham. Sterling composer, that one, no wonder why Zelman knighted him.” Giving a wave to the orchestra, he expounded without any encouragement from her. “They are playing it quite admirably this evening. Indeed so. I almost pulled the song from the program as they were abysmal during rehearsals but here they’re doing grand.”

  “Oh, perhaps you are the Minister of Music,” she asked with an airheaded delight, “Lord Sudenga?”

  The man actually flushed like a giddy schoolboy. “I am. You’ve heard of me?”

  “Indeed, my lord,” and nothing charitable either. “Pray forgive my self-introduction. I am Saira Vaulx of Senn.”

  “My dear Lady Saira, to have someone from even Senn that knows of me,” there were tears in the man’s eyes, “I feel like all of my hard work is truly appreciated.”

  She should never, ever, mention that the man was famous because no one could figure out what he actually did. She gave him a brilliant smile instead.

  He moved in a half step closer, animated and excited. “You said that you are from Senn? Your arrival must be very recent, as I swear that I have not seen you before.”

  “You are correct, my lord, I arrived this week. My cousin, Cyr Woelfel, escorted me in and is acting as my chaperone during my Season here.” Seeing a good opportunity to turn the conversation where she wanted it to go, she lowered her voice a hair. “I’m very glad he did. We saw such troubling signs of war while we traveled.”

  Lord Sudenga pounced on this, mustache quivering. “Pray, do tell, my lady.”

  Riana went into her rehearsed speech of mercenaries on the road, mild winters in Estole, and all of the other lies Troi wanted her to spread about the Court. Lord Sudenga swallowed every single one, then introduced her to two of his friends and asked her to repeat it all over again, which of course she willingly did.

  Eventually the conversation started to wind down. Claiming that she needed to refresh her punch, Riana wandered away from them, feeling like she’d gotten a good start on this crowd. Retreating to the buffet table, she stared down at the glass in her hands and tried to figure out what to do with it. Adding more to the glass was the furthest thing that she wanted. Perhaps she could “forget” it on the balcony.

  With that goal in mind, she peeked around a curtain, found an unoccupied balcony, and escaped into the cooler night air.

  The balcony, alas, was not as unoccupied as she had first assumed. A lone man hid in the shadows just to the left of the doors, completely out of sight unless one stepped onto the middle of the balcony. Riana realized her mistake when he lifted a glass from the stone banister, making a slight scraping sound. Whirling, she dampened the first three impulses to reach for a stiletto and quickly dipped into a curtsey. “Oh! I do beg your pardon, my lord, I assumed this place to be empty.”

  “It’s quite alright,” a pleasant baritone answered. He was still in shadows, giving her the impression of dark hair and a thin figure, but little more detail than that. “I believe you are like me? Wishing for a bit of quiet and fresh air.”

  She gave him her best smile. “Indeed so, my lord. It is strangely overheated in the room even though it is winter.”

  “Yes, I find it interesting that you seem to be fine out here even though you have no mantle on.”

  Sensing she might have an opening to employ a little misinformation, Riana confided easily, “I’m from Senn, my lord. It’s much colder up there at this time of year. To me, this feels like early fall.”

  “Senn, indeed? Is this your first Season in Court, then?”

  Riana’s ears caught the nuance in that question and knew he was asking if she was a complete novice to Court. “Quite so, my lord. My parents have entrusted me to a cousin in hopes that I might find a good match.” Daring two steps closer, she went to lean lightly against the banister. The stone was icy to the touch but she didn’t let it bother her much. She’d be roasting again in that room soon enough. “I think they sent me on in part to keep me from the war coming toward Estole. It was perfectly frightful the first two times, and all rumors we heard suggested that Prince Maddox would take no quarter this time.”

  “Yes, so rumors have said. If you just arrived…? Then you must have passed the army coming in.”

  Riana felt a little exaltation in sucking him into the topic she wanted to discuss. “I did, my lord. It was awe-inspiring, seeing so many troops marching along. Do you think with that number, that they’ll win against Estole?”

  “One would certainly think, wouldn’t you?”

  “I know little of strategy,” she demurred with false modesty. “But I do worry about the troops, and Prince Maddox, of course.”

  “Worry?” He shifted a little, standing slightly more in a sliver of light cast out from the doorway. She could see very angular features and deep-set eyes set in a pale face. “Do you think they’ll fall in battle?”

  “Men always fall in battle, my lord, but that’s not what I meant. The winter season has been uncharacteristically warm so far. Do you think it will stay that way? If it gets cold, as it normally does, all of those poor men will be stranded out in the snow.”

  He cocked his head, lifting a hand as if to say that anything was possible. “I believe that Prince Maddox brought a larger force than necessary to do a quick, decisive victory in order to avoid such a future. Our prince is not known to be fond of the cold.”

  “Truly?” She bit on her bottom lip and looked worried, a look she had been taught by Bria and practiced dutifully in the mirror until she had the slightly lost and airheaded expression of a young girl down pat. “Do you think he factored in the mercenaries that were hired too?”

  Her conversational partner went very still. “Mercenaries?”

  “Didn’t you know? We passed them on the way here as well. There were mercenaries heading toward Estole. Their commander shared a table with us one night at the inn and he said they’d been hired on by Estole for the upcoming battle.”

  The man rocked back on his heels, surprise or some other emotion she couldn’t define darting over his face. “Is that so. This is news to me.”

  “Oh dear. Oh my.” Riana put a hand to her heart and did her best to look troubled. “You do think that Prince Maddox knows? Well, he must know by now, as he’s surely arrived at Estole at this point.”

  “One would think.” Swirling the liquid in his glass, he took a slow sip before replacing it on the banister. “How many mercenaries?”

  Riana pretended to think. As previously planned, she kept her numbers deliberately vague. Rumor mills exaggerated the matter best when it had only sketchy information to build on. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t do a proper headcount of them. I’m not sure if I saw all of them, for that matter, as they took up three inns. Or was it four? We saw them coming in and out of three inns, at least.”

  “That’s quite the number, then. Inns can hold how many? A hundred or so?”

  “Comfortably speaking, I would assume so, my lord.”

  “True, they could be cramming more than two people per room. So we can safely assume at least three hundred and on the outside possibly six hundred. Quite the number indeed for Estole to hire. One does wonder where they got the funds to hire people with.”

  Where indeed, Riana mused ruefully. Never mind three hundred, Estole would be lucky to have the funds to hire three dozen. “I wouldn’t know, my lord. Senn has such limited contact with Estole these days. But if you’re correct, then Prince Maddox might not have enough troops with him.”

  “Perhaps. Regardless, it’s too late for him now, as he’s probably already arrived, as you said.” Retrieving his glass, he suggested, “Perhaps you should speak to Greer Dunlap and pass along your information to him? He is our master spy here in Court.”

  Riana knew perfectly well the reason why, but as a bumpkin from Senn, she should be surprised by this. “My lord, is it safe to noise it about who your spymaster is?”

  The lord just laughed. “My dear lady, he is well-known for a reason, have no fear. Spies themselves must of course always be in secret, but a spymaster must be known and accessible. It’s not just spies that he communicates with, but informants and even citizens like yourself who have valuable information. If you don’t know who our spymaster is, how would you know who to give information to?”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, that does make sense.”

  “He has his own spies, of course, but it never hurts to make sure that the man has the latest information. Having just arrived, you might know something he does not at this point.”

  “You think so? I’d hate to be presumptuous.”