She slipped sideways past a crowd of tipsy ladies, opening the door just far enough to pass through and closed it quickly behind her. Ah, blessed silence. The room she had entered only had a fireplace with embers in the hearth, a small round table and three chairs situated about it. This place was meant for anyone that just needed a breather or perhaps a discreet meeting place. It suited her needs perfectly in that moment.
Sitting, she angled the other chair so she could prop her feet up and sighed relief. The blood pounded in the soles of her feet, indicating that they were likely swelling. Strange, she never had this problem in her worn-in boots, but these heeled shoes the ladies insisted on wearing fatigued her calves and feet every time she wore them more than a few hours. Why did women do this to themselves?
The door opened and a man slipped in. Riana just about jumped out of her chair when she realized that Savir had followed her in.
“Stay comfortable,” he encouraged, juggling two glasses in his hands. “I saw you sneak in here and thought you needed a minute away from the crowd. So do I.”
Riana wasn’t sure if she really should leave her feet propped up on a chair in the presence of a prince, but he said to stay comfortable…and he was handing her a hot tea that smelled wonderfully of citrus. Deciding to go with the flow, she took it and didn’t move a muscle. “Ah, that’s delightful.”
“My favorite tea. The honey is good for a throat that has been overworked.” He gave her a wink. “You’re a popular woman, Lady Saira. Everyone wants to speak with you.”
“I do feel blessed they feel so,” Riana responded after another long sip of the delightful tea. Was there more than lemon in this? Ginger, perhaps? There was a slight zing on her tongue. “It just gets a little exhausting from time to time.”
“I do understand.”
She regarded him openly and for once tried to see it from his perspective. To be surrounded by people that wanted your attention, day in, day out, with no true respite your entire life… “Yes, I suppose you do.”
“I’m glad I saw you duck in here. I wanted to ask, how are you? I understand that my father had a private audience with you the other day.”
And he was extremely curious what that meeting was about. She could tell. “I’m somewhat confused on what the audience was for, to be honest. His Majesty did little more than confirm that I am from Senn before he went off on a tirade about Prince Hendrix. I confess I followed very little of what he said.” She licked her lips and dared to press her luck. “How long has His Majesty…um….”
“Been a raving lunatic?” Savir finished the question wearily. “I’m afraid for some time. He had bouts of depression and wild mood swings during my teenage years, but it wasn’t until roughly six years or so ago, that he completely lost it. He does seem bent on blaming Hendrix for everything that goes wrong as well, although the heavens know why.”
Perhaps it was the intimate setting they were in. Perhaps it was because he had brought her a cup of tea. Or perhaps it was because it was late at night and they both were tired of the crowds. Whatever the cause, Savir was far more open with her tonight than she had ever seen him. “I’ve heard that he exiled Prince Hendrix from the Court, but I never was given a reason for it.”
“Me. I was the reason.” Savir shook his head, expression becoming reminiscent. “Technically Hendrix is my half-brother, of course, as Queen Rosalind is not my biological mother. But we never felt that way, Maddox and I. She is our mother, and a good one to us. Hendrix has always been our little brother. We were incredibly close as children, more so I think because our father always seemed cold to Hendrix. We didn’t understand the cause then and as an adult I confess myself still baffled by the attitude. The disobedient one was not Hendrix, but Maddox. He was forever stirring up trouble and getting into things that wreaked havoc.”
Now that was an interesting piece of news. She also found it interesting that Savir’s expression had softened in speaking of Hendrix. “Do you feel more distant with him as an adult?”
“Yes and no. I barely know him as an adult. He was banished more or less from Court when he was eighteen. I haven’t seen much of him in five years. And the stupid reason why he was banished? Because I told Father point blank I had no intention of inheriting the throne.” Savir let out a soft sigh, weary and regretful. “Really, I thought it obvious. He preferred Maddox, everyone knew that, but for some reason he had it in his head that we three brothers should be competing with each other for the throne. What for? Why start that kind of internal conflict? There was no need for it. Neither Hendrix nor I wanted the throne.”
“Was he perhaps frustrated at your lack of ambition?” It was the only reason that Riana could think of.
“Perhaps? But just because a man doesn’t have a particular goal in mind doesn’t mean he lacks ambition. I have plenty. It’s just the throne I don’t want.” Savir shook the question aside. “At any rate, after that, Father raved for days. He was almost physically violent, he was so upset. Hendrix was the only one brave enough to step in and tell him that I had every right to choose some other path. That I wouldn’t be a good ruler anyway. And he’s quite right. A good ruler, the best king, loves people. Seeks them out, talks to them, wants to be in their company. I do well with them but there are also times—” he looked around in illustration “—that I need to escape from them and rest.”
Riana thought of Edvard. There was not an hour that went by that he wasn’t speaking to someone, unless one of his siblings had forced him to take a nap. The man thrived on being in people’s company. She thought she understood what Savir meant. It took a certain personality type to thrive as the ruler of people and Savir didn’t have it. He was wise to recognize that and seek a path more suited for him. “And for his support of your wishes, King Zelman threw him out.”
“Sadly, yes. It caused a terrific rift in between my parents. Mother encouraged Hendrix to leave the Court, to travel about the country and do what good he could, partially to keep him safely away from Father.”
So it had not been a true exile? Well, not initially. Riana had wondered about that, as Hendrix had been able to return to Court from time to time, he’d mentioned that. He just hadn’t been able to stay.
“My mother doesn’t speak to him unless something forces her to. Zelman now believes Hendrix talked me out of competing for the throne and blames my lack of ambition on him. Madness, all of it.” Savir took a long pull from his cup and hummed approval. “I do love this tea. It’s very calming.”
“Yes, so it is.” Riana was dying to figure out the recipe so she could make it again. “You don’t strike me as the type to let the situation fester.”
He toasted her with the cup. “You are perceptive, my lady. Indeed, I have no intention of doing so. I have plans in place, they’ll just take a while longer to bear fruition.”
Now that might be the most interesting thing she had learned this evening. “You won’t tell me what they are, will you.”
“I cannot.” He smiled to take the sting out of it. “I can, however, provide a distraction so that we may linger here in comfort. How about a game of cards?”
She eyed the stack that he pulled out of his pocket. “You have no intention of rejoining the party, do you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
She came home at nearly three in the morning, completely dead on her feet and more than ready to just fall face first into her pillow. Savir might have rescued her from talking to a hundred people but the man was intense in his own right. She made it all of three steps inside the townhouse before Ash waylaid her.
“You’re just getting home? Do you know what time it is?”
Riana eyed him wearily. “Far too late. Or far too early. Take your pick.”
Ash’s frustration mounted. “These social events last far too late in the night. I bet you were flirting with the men again, you look exhausted, and I could tell earlier you were pushing yourself to be charming.”
“Ah, that? That was becaus
e of Savir.” She was tired enough that it took a second before she realized saying that likely didn’t help her case. Not that she had a case to begin with, but still.
Brows slamming together, Ash growled, “He got you alone again, didn’t he?”
Whole truth, half-truth, or full out evasion? “Ash, my darling, can we argue about this when my eyes aren’t crossing with fatigue?”
“He did. I can tell.” Ash growled like a wounded tiger. “Why does he always seek you out like this?”
“I don’t know but he’s helping me without realizing it. I’ve gotten very good information from him, and by association with the prince, everyone talks to me. It’s a win-win. Assuming my nerves can hold out.”
“I don’t want you constantly in his company or flirting with him!” Ash burst out.
Riana strove to be patient but it was hard when she was tired. “I promise you can zap him after this is all over for having the audacity to flirt with me.”
“I don’t want to zap him later, I want to zap him now.” There was an actual pout on the wizard’s face.
She didn’t say anything. Her look spoke volumes.
“And yes, I realize that I sound like a whinny five-year-old. You can ignore me. Go to bed, you’re exhausted.” Ash meant every word but his frustrations still pitched and rolled inside him like a ship being tossed in a stormy sea.
Putting both arms around his waist, she leaned against him, trying to channel soothing emotions his direction. “It’ll be over soon, Ash. You just have to be patient until then.”
“I know. I’m just feeling caged inside this house.” He hugged her back, rocking a little from side to side. “It will be over soon. We just have to keep chipping away at Zelman until he crumbles.”
From what Riana had seen, Zelman was tottering on the brink of destruction. It wouldn’t take much more to push him over the edge.
Ash forced his feelings of frustration and claustrophobia aside and led her toward the stairs. “Come, dearheart, you’re swaying on your feet. Go to bed. You still have a lot to do tomorrow. You didn’t know when you signed up for this that most of your spywork would consist of flirting with noblemen and princes, did you?”
“And I can’t even shoot at the ones that irritate me,” she bemoaned, staggering up the stairs. “My feet hurt, too. I don’t like the heeled shoes or the wide skirts.”
“So the next time that Troi wants you to be a spy for him…?” Ash trailed off hopefully.
“I will tell him absolutely not unless I can shoot people,” she stated adamantly.
“That’s my girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Riana skirted the outside edges of the ballroom, heading for her next vict—er, potential allies. It had been a semi-productive evening so far, but she’d only been here two hours, and the night was still very young. Her goal was to get at least five people from the older generation to come away from General Quillin’s camp and consider Hendrix as a good potential candidate instead. So far doing that had been akin to rolling mud up a hill in a snowstorm, but she at least saw some progress, which made her hopeful. Hendrix was due to come into town at some point, and she wanted him to have a good crowd to speak with when he arrived.
As she did a side-step, making way for a trio of ladies to pass her, she caught a glimpse of Axley and Larcinese coming her direction. Uh-oh. After what had happened last time, she did not want to be anywhere near them. That was not an experience she needed to repeat. Alright, where to run? Or hide? Her eyes darted about and she realized that she had actually passed a balcony door that would lead out to one of the outside terraces. Perfect.
Spinning, she made a beeline for it and darted through the door before swiftly closing it behind her. Phew, safe.
“My dear Lady Saira—”
Her head shot up. Savir?! Spinning, she followed his voice and found him leaning against the balustrade, a wine glass casually twirling in his hand and a sardonic look on his face.
“—we simply must stop meeting in such a clandestine manner,” he continued, voice rich with amusement. “If we give the gossips such rich fodder to work with, it’ll overexcite them and be bad for their hearts, you understand.”
Drat it. Riana regarded him with equal mix of exasperation and amusement. Woelfel told her time and again to not mix with Savir more than she had to, but every time she turned around, there he was. “Your Highness, it’s truly remarkable, how many times our paths cross in a single day.”
“It truly is.” He gave an elaborate look around. “And half the time it’s in such dark, secluded corners such as this. My dear lady, if you are trying to seduce me, I must say that I’m perfectly amiable to such.”
It was of course at this moment that Ash started paying attention to her emotions and felt something was off. ::Riana, what’s wrong?::
She was not about to say “a prince is flirting with me, pay me no mind.” ::I’m fine, I’ll explain later,:: she sent back firmly. Frantically drawing on her experience with Woelfel and his sometimes irresponsible flirting, she tried to respond in kind, “Your Highness, you do make it so easy to rendezvous with you.”
“I do, don’t I?” he agreed charmingly. “It’s one of those services I try to provide the young ladies.”
She choked on a laugh. The rogue. He was an enemy prince, of course he was, but there were moments like these when she found she liked him a little. “I am very disappointed to hear that, Your Highness.” She did her best to put on a disappointed face. “Does that mean any young lady would do?”
“Perish the thought,” he dismissed. “Of course my dearest wish was to meet with you.”
Riana had the hardest time not to roll her eyes. “How very flattering.”
“You don’t believe me,” he mourned, lips twitching. “But I assure you—”
It was at that moment that Riana saw a movement out of the corner of her eye that sent her instincts screaming. There was a glint of metal in the lamplight in a place where metal shouldn’t be, a movement and rustle of the bushes that spoke of sneaking, and a general feeling of wrongness that Riana knew well after years of being ambushed by bandits.
She had two seconds to make a decision on what to do. Moving meant blowing her cover, something that had been drilled into her, over and over, to not do under any circumstance. And yet…and yet…
Riana’s heart revolted at the idea. Savir was not a bad man. He was not evil. He was, in many ways, remarkably like Hendrix. He had the same kindness, the same intelligence, the same charm if in a different fashion than his brother used. He was a man that was placed in a terrible position and was making the best of it. She could not hate him or think of him only as an enemy.
With that conclusion, it was obvious what she would do, and likely what the consequences would be. Riana threw herself forward, grabbing him by the back of the neck and throwing him down even as she pulled her fan shut with a snap of the wrist. When preparing for this role, she had armed herself similarly to how she had for Edvard’s disastrous coronation. The fan was reinforced with steel, her hairpins were likewise weapons, and she had three throwing daggers either in a pocket or strapped to her thigh. If necessary, she’d used them all.
“Wha—” Savir managed, but had the sense to go down and not fight her hold on him.
Riana barely had her fan up in time to block the arrow that came whistling at the very spot where Savir had been standing not a second before. She knocked it aside, as well as the second one that came after it. With Savir obediently staying prostrate on the balcony, she grabbed one of her throwing daggers and threw it with precise aim at the man attacking. It hit with an audible, if truncated, scream of pain. Then the bushes he was hiding behind rustled harshly to the side as he pushed off and made a run for it.
Savir seemed to realize the worst was over as he stood and yelled out, “Night watch! Pursue an injured man running toward the east gate!”
There was a startled pause before a masculine and feminine voice called back
, “Roger that!” and then the heavy sound of footsteps running.
“Hopefully they’ll catch him before he disappears somewhere,” Savir said calmly. “If he’s gotten this far inside, he had help, so he might be able to hide somewhere and be smuggled out later.”
A distinct possibility. Riana put the second throwing dagger she had palmed back into its holster and took in a calming breath. Well. That had certainly gotten her blood pumping. “Are there many assassins after your life, Your Highness?”
“Far too many. I’ve grown dangerously immune to them.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Many people, you see, realize that I’m the strategist behind my brother. They think to take Maddox down by killing me first. They don’t realize that Maddox isn’t just a bull that only knows how to charge forward. He’s capable in his own right. He’s just not as patient as he needs to be sometimes, that’s all.”
Perhaps Savir saw him better than others, who didn’t know Maddox as well. Or perhaps because he loved his brother, he saw him in a better light. Riana was in no place to judge, and saw no need to.
::Riana,:: Ash had a hard tone to his voice, ::why does it feel like you just got into a fight?::
Curse the man’s ability to read her. There were definite downsides to their bond sometimes. ::I did. I’ll explain later.::
::Now. You’ll explain NOW.::
::Can’t, I have a curious prince next to me, have to focus on him.::
There was a wordless growl.
“Well, Lady Saira, I admit myself impressed by your combat skills.” Savir gave her a study from head to toe. “I must say, I didn’t expect such skill from you.”
Riana kept her smile at him steady, somehow, even as she frantically tried to come up with a plausible explanation. “You are aware, are you not, that the Land Northward is mostly lawless? Filled with bandits and pirates and the like.”
“I am, of course.”
“In truth, Senn is close enough to that land that we often saw bandits and pirates.” Sticking to mostly the truth, Riana hoped for the best. “My father was very concerned about me being able to protect myself if ever I found myself alone on the road. He made sure I was taught from an early age the basics of combat.”
Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3) Page 22