Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3)

by Honor Raconteur

“No, indeed, please speak with him. In fact, let me be your escort to him, as I wish to ascertain that such vital information is given directly to him.”

  Riana had already made plans to report to this man with Woelfel as her companion, but this might work out better, assuming this man had some sort of importance in the Court. “Pray, might I have your name first? I’m Saira Vaulx.”

  “Ah, forgive me, we never did properly introduce ourselves. I’m Savir. A pleasure, Lady Saira.”

  Riana didn’t try to mask her surprise. PRINCE Savir, Maddox and Hendrix’s brother?! How in the world had she stumbled into him on her first night? She dropped into another, deeper curtsey. “A pleasure, Your Highness.”

  “You now understand my desire to make sure this information gets directly to our spymaster, do you not?” Prince Savir asked with a quiet smile that was somehow charming. “Please, let me escort you directly to him.”

  Riana jerked her brain back into motion before it could continue to splutter. “I would be honored, Your Highness.” She accepted the arm he extended to her, putting her hand in the crook of his elbow and following his lead out.

  Ash was sending her an urgent emotional query, a basic, Is something wrong?

  Not wanting him to jump in here with magic blazing, she quickly sent reassuring signals back to him. Granted, she had probably scared ten years off of his life with her emotional spike of disbelief and panic. It had been such a shock that she still reeled with it even as they stepped back into the room. Troi had said that spies needed nerves of steel. She now understood completely what he meant.

  Every noble in the room took notice of this newcomer on the prince’s arm. Riana kept a pleasantly blank expression firmly fixed on her face and tried to ignore the outright stares. Now that she had proper light to see by, she observed Savir from the corner of her eye. He was tall, like Ash, with a similar build as him, and he strangely didn’t look a bit like Hendrix. His hair was blue-black, eyes dark, skin pale, with a hawkish nose. He looked the studious sort, not a fighter like his twin was rumored to be. Could twins be such opposites? Then again, there was Ash and Ashlynn to consider.

  Woelfel appeared like magic at her side, smile in place but his wide eyes gave away his surprise. “Your Highness, good evening.”

  “Good evening, Lord Woelfel.” Savir inclined a nod in his direction, acknowledging Woelfel’s bow. “I just chanced upon your charming cousin. She told me a little of her journey here, and what she saw on the way. I do believe she has information that is vital to the war effort. You served as her escort here, did you not?”

  Woelfel had been at this game too long to be ruffled for more than a split second and he played along beautifully. “I did, Your Highness. Saira, I’m not quite sure what he’s referring to…?”

  “The mercenaries from Overa,” Riana supplied helpfully, giving the man the clues he needed to realize that they were going with the story Troi had fabricated for them. “The ones that stayed in all of those inns around us, remember?”

  “Ah yes. We had dinner with the commander,” Woelfel explained more directly to Savir. “The inns were completely crowded, so much so that complete strangers were sharing table space with each other. The commander, a man named Draughon, proved to be a good conversationalist however.”

  “Indeed, he was,” Riana confirmed with a reminiscent smile. “But cousin, His Highness said that there’s been no word of mercenaries being hired by Estole.”

  Woelfel frowned at her as if in confusion. “Truly? But they were such a large body of men, surely….”

  “That is why I wish for Lady Saira to come and report to our spymaster, Greer Dunlap,” Savir encouraged. “Since you are also a witness, Lord Woelfel, please do come with us. I believe I saw Dunlap over here, near the gardens, and I wish to catch him and pass along this news as quickly as I can. If my brother has miscalculated on how many troops he needs, we need to correct it if possible.”

  “Yes, of course,” Woelfel agreed immediately. “Do lead the way, Your Highness.”

  Savir started again for the opposite side of the room. Riana rehearsed the story in her head, making sure she had all of the details right, and then reminded herself that she was supposed to be a little airheaded so it was alright for her to be uncertain and verify with Woelfel. It would look odd if a strange woman strode in with all sorts of information that was of vital importance even with Woelfel backing her. Better that there be some question and spies sent out to verify her claims.

  “Dunlap!” Savir waved a hand above the crowd, caught the man’s attention, and pointed him to an open balcony door, the only clear space for more than three people to gather.

  Dunlap was exactly as Troi had first described him—the epitome of the handsome spy with exactly the right looks, clothes, and bearing. On the surface he looked imminently confident and capable. It was a pity that appearances were so deceiving. “Your Highness, is ought amiss?”

  “Dunlap, I must introduce to you Lady Saira Vaulx, and of course you know her cousin, Lord Woelfel.”

  “Indeed I do, Your Highness.” Dunlap’s voice and manners turned smooth as honey as he greeted Riana. “Lord Woelfel. Lady Saira, a very great pleasure.”

  Riana dipped into a curtsey and smiled back at him. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you, Lord Dunlap.”

  Savir wasn’t about to let them get sidetracked. “Dunlap, Lady Saira arrived in Kremser very recently and she saw something on the way here that I felt you must be informed of. Lady Saira, if you would?”

  “On our journey here,” Riana launched into her prepared speech, “we stopped along the way at an inn. The town was nearly full to capacity with mercenary soldiers from Overa. The conditions being what they were, no one had any private tables to offer, and we ended up sharing our dinner table with the commander of the mercenaries, a Mr. Draughon. Perfectly charming gentleman, actually.”

  With a gentle clearing of the throat, Woelfel reminded her, “Saira, that part isn’t what’s important.”

  “Oh? Yes, that’s true, I’m sorry. The point, Lord Dunlap, is that Mr. Draughon told us he had been hired by Estole to help fend off the Iyshian army.”

  Dunlap’s face lost all color. He physically reeled as if someone had slapped him. “Your Highness, this is the first that I’ve heard anything about this.”

  “I felt that must be so, Dunlap, otherwise you would have informed us. Pray, please take these two aside and debrief them as much as possible. I will alert my father about this turn of events and we’ll set a carrier pigeon to my brother to inform him. Hopefully we are not too late in our warning.”

  Dunlap gave him a brief bow and then urged Riana to follow him. “Pray, this way; there’s a quiet alcove over here that will give us space to talk in. Lady Saira, how many mercenaries were there?”

  Riana made a show of being uncertain. “I am so sorry, Lord Dunlap, but I’m not sure. A great many, to be sure. Cyr, how many do you think there were? We saw them coming in and out of at least three inns, didn’t we…?”

  It was very difficult, but Riana somehow managed to keep an exultant look off her face while Dunlap bought all of their false intel hook, line, and sinker. Troi had been right—the man was a sucker for women. Riana sat there in the alcove, spinning a yarn, and enjoyed herself immensely.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The trick to spreading rumors lay in not presenting a full story to the listener, but instead giving them a setting, a few facts, and then letting their imagination take it from there. Riana had learned this tactic the first few days of being at Court and continued to roll with it. She also took advantage of her gender and went to the Ladies Only social events that Woelfel would not be invited to attend—ladies’ tea parties and luncheons and so forth. It made both men extremely nervous for her to go by herself, but, as Riana pointed out, it would be very strange if she turned any invitations down. The whole point of her being here was to make connections and find a husband. Both of those things were done best through the moth
ers.

  The first woman to make a friendly invitation to her was Lady Vailwood, a matronly sort with very pale coloring and a kind smile. She likely invited Riana out of sympathy more than anything else, but Riana took her up on it, as she couldn’t afford not to. It was an “informal” luncheon near the palace, in a charming tea shop that catered to the very elite. It boasted delicate water fountains in the corners, flower beds in between the tables, and every piece of furniture was a white wrought iron with cushions. Riana stepped into the place and nearly gagged on femininity.

  “Oh, Lady Saira, I’m glad you’re here.” Lady Vailwood bustled up and took her arm, drawing her into the main dining area that abutted a small, decorative garden. “Have you met either Lady Odom or Lady Sircy?”

  Riana managed a smile at both women and a curtsey. “I believe Lady Sircy and I bumped into each other my first night at Court.”

  Alice Sircy gave her a pleased nod. This was a woman that was at the height of power in Kremser, as her husband was the Minister of Finance. She had a high brow, iron grey hair with streaks of white in it, and fine lines around her eyes and mouth that suggested she did not often smile. She came off as a very cold, rather aloof, woman. Riana was particularly glad to have her here as this was one of Woelfel’s favorite gossips. “Indeed we did. You have an excellent memory, Lady Saira.”

  “Not at all, Lady Sircy,” Riana denied honestly. “You make a very strong impression.”

  Sircy liked this compliment and almost smiled. “Indeed.”

  “I do not believe that Lady Odom and I have been acquainted?” Riana ventured with an inquiring lift of the brows at the woman in question.

  She was a mousy little woman, short and dumpy, hair fuzzy and badly contained into a bun at the top of her head. But her smile was nice, as if she truly was delighted to meet her. “We have not. Rachel Odom, pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Lady Odom.”

  “Here, let’s all sit,” Vailwood encouraged.

  Riana breathed a silent sigh of relief that it seemed this was to be the full party for the luncheon. Sometimes these affairs could host fifty or more people, or so Woelfel had told her. She did not think she could handle a crowd of fifty on her own.

  They settled around the table, ordered tea and a delicate snack of pastries or sandwiches from a discreet waiter, then set to the real reason why they were here: gossiping.

  The first several minutes they discussed a woman that Riana didn’t know, and how she might be having an affair with someone else, as Lady Vailwood’s sister’s friend’s cousin had seen them out together. It all seemed a little far-fetched to Riana, but she didn’t know either party, and frankly didn’t care.

  Their teas and food arrived, providing a break, and Riana dove into it to see if she could change the subject. “I’m very glad that I came to Kremser when I did. Considering the dreadful rumors about what is happening around Estole, it seemed I left Senn at just the right time.”

  Lady Odom gave her a puzzled look as she stirred sugar into her tea. “Whatever do you mean, disturbing rumors? I thought Prince Maddox was winning against Estole.”

  Riana gave her a blank stare. “Heavens, Lady Odom, while I do not doubt the prince’s fighting expertise, it seems a bit early to declare his victory. I passed the army on the way in; there’s no way that he could have arrived in Estole before I came into Kremser.”

  All three women looked at each other, but it was Lady Sircy that seemed the least surprised. Considering her husband’s position in the government, it was likely that she had overheard things that were at odds with the war propaganda.

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Lady Odom allowed. “Perhaps we’re all optimistic and eager for the situation to be solved.”

  That seemed to be a mild way of stating the situation. Riana had heard the most ridiculous statements from these people. “He had those mercenaries from Overa to contend with as well, poor man.” The ladies nodded—they’d heard that rumor already. Riana tried to add another twist into the tale, as Troi had directed her. “I suppose that’s why he’s drafting people as he is.”

  Now all three stopped and stared at her with poised expectation. A new rumor was to be had. “Oh, you hadn’t heard?” Riana asked, putting her tea back down before even tasting it. “Heavens, I overheard it myself, I thought it was common knowledge.”

  “Heard what, my dear?” Lady Vailwood prompted impatiently.

  “Why, that the prince is taking people from any area he passes through.”

  No one seemed to know what to say to that.

  “I would think that he would only need the men if he needed to augment his army,” Lady Sircy stated slowly, staring blindly ahead as she weighed the matter.

  “Even that doesn’t make sense,” Lady Odom protested. “Prince Maddox didn’t bring extra weapons with him. I heard that straight from you, Lady Sircy, as you said your husband was complaining about how much this war was costing, and how Prince Maddox stretched the budget to the max by so finely outfitting his army. He didn’t bring anything extra with him, so what are these newly drafted men supposed to fight with? Hoes?”

  An excellent question. Riana applauded it. “But that’s what makes this so disturbing. I heard that it wasn’t just the men—everyone was taken by him.”

  “Whatever for?” Lady Vailwood asked, bewildered.

  Riana splayed her hands in an open shrug, acting just as bewildered. Silence was often the best thing to employ to encourage their imaginations to run wild.

  “How are you hearing about this?” Lady Odom pressed.

  “I do get regular correspondence from home,” Riana said honestly. “I received a carrier pigeon just the other night telling me sternly to stay in Kremser until the affair at Estole was all over. They do not want me on the roads at all.”

  “Oh dear,” Lady Odom fretted, fanning her face with a flapping hand. “Oh my. I don’t like the sound of any of this. I know Prince Maddox has been under a great deal of pressure from the king to solve Estole quickly and bring them back to heel, but do you think the stress of it has made him do something reckless? I can’t imagine what he would need the common people for, can you?”

  “I can,” Lady Sircy stated grimly. “And it is not at all pleasant. Cannon fodder, that’s all they would be good for.”

  A ring of gasps, Riana playing along and doing the same, eyes wide with horror above the hands covering her mouth. “Oh. Oh, do you think that’s why my brother said that after the people were taken, no one saw them again?”

  “Don’t say that,” Lady Vailwood practically wailed. “What a dreadful thought. Surely our prince wouldn’t do such a heartless thing.”

  “There’s been many a heartless thing done recently in our fair country,” Lady Sircy stated flatly. “I’m very afraid this rumor might have too much basis to not have some truth to it. Lady Saira, has your brother witnessed all of this himself?”

  “Only part,” Riana said, again half-truthfully. “He did see the people taken. He said as of the time he wrote the letter, none of them had returned to their homes.”

  “I do not like the sound of any of this.” Lady Sircy brooded into her tea cup with a glower fierce enough a dragon would envy it. “It’s very grim indeed. Lady Saira, I heard that you were the one that gave the report of the mercenaries headed toward Estole?”

  “I am, yes, we had dinner with their commander on the way here. Perfectly charming man, although understandably rough around the edges.”

  “How many mercenaries were with him?” Lady Sircy pressed. “Were they likely to beat our army to Estole?”

  Riana built another layer to the tangled web she wove, answering questions just enough to let them take the thought and run it into entirely different directions. By the time the luncheon was over, every single woman was dreadfully afraid that Prince Maddox had turned into a monster on the battlefield. They also lamented that Prince Maddox seemed to be the only viable heir to the throne, and why couldn’t one
of the other princes step up instead?

  The way for Hendrix had been started. Now to continue paving the road.

  Riana hovered in a strange mood. She felt tired, extremely so, but not in the mood to go to bed. It was late at night, she had three events lined up for tomorrow, so she really needed to rest. But she felt restless and edgy. The idea of lying in bed did not sound even remotely tempting.

  From next door, there came an emotional equivalent from Ash of: You too?

  It seemed she was not the only one still awake. Throwing on a robe, she went straight through the connecting door and found him sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, his back braced against a chair. Wordlessly, he extended an arm and encouraged her to come in for a cuddle.

  Snuggling for a moment might be exactly what she needed. Riana tucked herself into his side, head on his shoulder, and let out a weary sigh.

  “Homesick?” he asked her softly.

  “Aye,” she responded, reverting to her native speech. “I miss da, too.”

  He gave her a slight squeeze in comfort. “I know you do.”

  He wasn’t just saying that. He truly did. Riana tuned more into his feelings and found that he was just as restless as she was, only for different reasons. There was frustration there, emotions rolling because he was caged in this house and unable to actively help. While Riana and Woelfel’s jobs were dangerous, Riana felt that Ash actually had the hardest role of all—that of staying in the background as support until he was needed. “Waiting be the hardest.”

  “The first few days, it wasn’t bad,” Ash said, staring directly into the flames. “I’ve been run so hard for the past year that being able to sit and rest was actually nice. I felt nervous for you, but other than that, it’s the most peaceful time I’ve had in ages. My magical level is finally restored to its normal levels. Now I’m all rested up and with nothing to do.”

  “In yer shoes, I’d feel the same, Ash.”

  “In my shoes, you would be ready to shoot your way out,” he said with a soft snort of laughter. “Speaking of, how does it feel to be fighting without a bow in your hands?”