“I must say, such training has served you very well,” he applauded. “I will write him a letter personally thanking him for his foresight. For now, however, let us both go inside and report this matter. I want to catch our would-be assassin but also we must let everyone know of your gallantry, yes?”
Riana felt another moment of panic. “We do?”
“Of course, we do,” he assured her, taking her by the arm and almost forcefully leading her back inside.
Resigned, she let him.
The night turned out to be exhausting, but not in the way that Riana had initially anticipated. Savir had dragged her straight to the palace Captain of the Guards, where she had dutifully relayed her own account of events. Then of course, the Queen Mother had heard and came over to get her own accounting and to make sure that her son was alright. Riana’s hope that would be the end of it was immediately dashed when Greer Dunlap had come over and also demanded to know what happened.
After that, the situation became a badly kept secret, with the whole ballroom learning about it within the course of minutes. The ladies were amazed she knew anything about combat. The lords were impressed by her skills. Woelfel was ready to strangle her, she could tell, but couldn’t do it because there were too many witnesses.
Riana was resigned to getting the lecture of all lectures until she found a way to turn it to their advantage. Several of the older generation came to speak with her and asked the whys and whos and whens of her training. Riana, in a flash of brilliance, stated that her father had taught her most of it but Prince Hendrix had taught her how to deflect arrows or throwing knives.
That, finally, gave her the foothold she needed. People were unaware that she had met Prince Hendrix in person or had actually been trained by him and his reputation rose a notch because of the association. After all, a man that would think to train a young girl—who eventually became a woman that protected his brother—was one that had amazing foresight and patience. Why, Zelman would never think to arm a woman in such a way, and look what it had done tonight! It had saved a prince from being assassinated.
Riana left the Court feeling triumphant right up until they climbed into the carriage.
Then, of course, there were no witnesses.
Woelfel pinned a look on her that would have felled a primeval tree. “Riana.”
She winced and mentally brought Ash into the conversation, although he could only hear her, of course. “It was instinct.” Mostly.
::What was?:: Ash demanded.
::I, ah, sort of saved Savir from an assassination attempt.::
::You did WHAT!::
Riana decided that telling Ash now was a stroke of genius. If she had delayed and waited until she was back, that would have surely destroyed one of her eardrums. As it was, it set her head to ringing.
“Ash is lambasting you right now, isn’t he?” Woelfel said knowingly.
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” she retorted. “It was instinct. I saw metal gleam, a bush moving strangely, and I knew someone was going to attempt a shot from the shadows.”
::Of course you did,:: Ash sighed. ::Bandit-honed instincts.::
::Precisely.:: “I had Savir down on the ground in a second, deflected two arrows, and got my own dagger out before I even processed what I was doing. And as much as you two might complain, it’s turned in our favor, hasn’t it?”
Woelfel dearly wanted to chew her out for this, but it had, and he couldn’t deny it. Sighing, he let it go with an open palm. “It would have been a disaster if not for your quick thinking. What made you think of bringing Hendrix into this?”
“I remembered Bria telling me that Hendrix actually taught her a little self-defense, and how he had visited Senn first after being more or less exiled from Court. I thought, the timing would be about right, for him to have an ‘encounter’ with Lady Saira at fifteen or so. Besides, I had no way of reaching the older generation, as they have little reason to like Hendrix. They want someone who knows combat and has a good head for leadership. Why not show that he does have that foresight and skill now, by passing myself off as one of his students?”
There was a contemplative feeling from Ash. ::How well did that work?::
“I feel that it worked well. I at least got people to talk to me tonight that wouldn’t do more than a passing greeting before. What do you think, Woelfel?”
“It did seem to work in your favor tonight,” Woelfel agreed, perhaps a tad grudgingly. “If we follow up correctly on this, keep the momentum of the thought going, we might be able to weaken the support behind Quillin. It certainly has worked better than everything else we’ve tried so far.”
Riana smiled at him and tried very hard not to gloat.
::You failed. I can feel you gloating from here.::
::Oh, hush.::
“Be that as it may, Riana,” Woelfel was back to glowering at her, “try not to make a habit of this, alright? And for the love of mercy, if you see an assassin anywhere near Zelman, don’t hinder the man!”
She laughed. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Riana did not like summons from Zelman. She in fact hated them. The man had only summoned her once and it turned out to be something of a disaster, so her opinion was entirely justified. This time, however, he had not summoned just her but also key members of the Court and some of the men and women that, while not holding any particular office, still carried a lot of political weight. Why she had been invited, Riana had no clue, but it didn’t bode well in her mind.
She arrived at the main throne room with her heart in her throat and a dozen escape routes planned just in case. Ash was on high alert and standing by in an inn not far from the palace gate, ready to burst in if she called for him. Riana desperately prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
As she entered the throne room, she found it occupied by perhaps thirty people or so. Every face was one that she recognized as she had spoken to all of them at some point or another. It made her a little insecure to be in this political hot bed without Woelfel at her side, but the liveried servant that had fetched her had made it clear no one else was allowed to come in with her.
Riana tried to stay near the back of the crowd, to be less noticeable. Alas, this failed, as Savir homed in on her location like a homing pigeon. He slid in to a vacant spot next to her and whispered, “Do you know why you’re here?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion, Your Highness,” she answered honestly, pressing a palm to her thumping heart, trying to keep it from beating its way out of her chest. “Perhaps you know?”
“Ostensibly, it’s to thank you for saving me the other day.” Savir’s tone indicated that was not truly the reason at all. “But my father is not the grateful kind and having summoned this crowd…I do not think we will like where this is going.”
Riana nodded grim agreement. She didn’t think so either.
“Savir!” Zelman summoned in a demanding voice. “Bring that girl up here.”
Savir offered her his arm, and she let her hand rest inside his elbow, swallowing hard. Zelman’s expression was filled with anger and hate. This man had no intention of thanking her for anything this evening. But she was trapped and couldn’t flee as she wanted to. Keeping a neutral look fixed on her face, she walked arm in and arm to stand in front of Zelman.
The king looked down at her with cold eyes. “Girl. I heard from my son that you saved him from an assassin. Is that really true?”
Riana managed a curtsey. “Your Majesty. I did the best I could and am grateful it turned out well.”
“Turned out well, she says.” Zelman scoffed, throwing his head back and looking away from all of them. “Turned out well! If not for this girl’s training, and sheer luck, we’d be short a prince right now. Why? BECAUSE OF HENDRIX!”
Riana blinked and slowly brought her head back up to stare at him incredulously. Come again?
There was a murmur in the crowd, a confused sound as people tried to
follow Zelman’s logic, but couldn’t.
“That’s right, my youngest son is to blame for all of this.” Zelman threw out an arm in a sweeping motion. “ALL OF IT! If not for his disobedience, his greed for power, we wouldn’t be facing such unrest right now! His mockery of my station, my right to rule, is what inspired Edvard Knolton to rebellion!”
As the king spoke, Savir gradually drew Riana away, stepping slowly backward until they were against the far right wall, out of the king’s direct line of sight. Riana didn’t breathe properly until her skirts brushed the wall, feeling like at least this way she wouldn’t have to meet Zelman’s eyes or control her expression so absolutely.
“Our bandits in the Land Northward, the pirates that plague our coasts, ALL OF THEM are due to Hendrix! We must stamp him out. His rebellion, his power, he’s claiming the hearts of the greedy and preying on the stupidity of the commoners.”
Riana stared at the man with growing distaste. She’d thought she hated the man before, but the feeling evolved the more she listened to his insanity. The stupidity of commoners? Edvard Knolton had depended upon “commoners” in order to establish a wise and just government. She was now very glad that it was he she’d met first, and seen what a king should be like. If she’d met Zelman first, then she would have lost all faith in humanity.
“It has to stop! Why, why can’t you help me stop him!” Zelman jerked the crown off his head and brandished it like a weapon. “Is this a joke to you? Is my rule, my words, nothing more than the sound of a barking dog?!”
No, a barking dog at least made sense. They normally barked for a reason. Zelman’s words had no reasoning at all that she could decipher. He was blaming his youngest son for things that were entirely outside of his control. The pirates? They’d existed for generations, past anyone’s living memory. The same could be said of the bandits, until a certain foursome had walked in and wiped them out several months ago. Hendrix certainly couldn’t be blamed for Edvard Knolton, as the Estolian king had made it quite clear—to Zelman’s face no less—why he was revolting against Iysh.
Riana turned her eyes to the watching crowd of noblemen and women. There was not one person that was truly listening to their king. Instead, they looked disturbed by what they were witnessing. It was akin to a crowd watching a madman writhe and rave. Indeed, that’s exactly what it was.
She looked to the man standing so quietly beside her and found Savir watching his father with loathing, perhaps a touch of pity. There was no love there of a son watching his father. That was the saddest thing of all.
“Lady Saira,” Savir murmured to her, low enough that the words would reach her ears alone, “I intended to invite you here solely amongst my own family to give you heartfelt thanks for your bravery and quick-thinking the other day. I would be dead or injured if not for you.”
She gave him a smile that was half grimace. “I do appreciate your words, Your Highness. I don’t know how to tell you this, but…I have trained with your brother, Hendrix.” Which was not actually a lie. She had. Hendrix was a good sparring partner.
“Have you.” Savir regarded her thoughtfully. “So in fact, my brother’s foresight in training a woman in turn saved my life.”
“It would appear so.” Her smile grew more genuine.
“Well. If I ever have the opportunity, I shall remember to thank him.” Savir glanced up at Zelman, who was now almost frothing at the mouth, still ranting about Hendrix being the root of all evil. “I’m afraid he’s on a roll now. He won’t be stopping anytime soon and words won’t reach him.”
Zelman paced up and down the dais, screaming, ranting, even throwing his crown to the ground at one point. That made Riana jump. But she didn’t watch him much—it was embarrassing for one thing. To see a grown man throwing a fit like a three-year-old was unbelievably embarrassing.
What she chose to focus on was his audience. As she watched, she could visibly see each man and woman mentally turn away from Zelman or lose all faith in his abilities to rule. It was horribly fascinating to watch. Zelman had gathered these people up with some sort of ill formed idea to rally them against Hendrix and was instead doing just the opposite.
She had no idea how much time passed. There were no windows in this place or clocks, just the lanterns burning down. It was a good long while, she knew that, as her heeled shoes hurt her feet and she grew increasingly thirsty.
Zelman must have felt the same, as he abruptly stopped talking, a hand to his throat. He had literally ranted himself hoarse. With a hand, he waved an abrupt dismissal at them all before leaving through a back door, staggering a little from aching feet.
Relieved, Riana gave Savir a smile and quick curtsey but didn’t try to linger. She wanted out of this place as quickly as possible. Lengthening her stride as much as the skirts would allow, she made her way out of the throne room, through the dividing courtyard, through the main hallway of the palace and toward a side door that would dump her on the street leading to Ash’s hiding place. He had the carriage, which meant a neat and swift escape.
“Lady Saira!”
Swearing mentally, she stopped and turned, praying that whoever was hailing her would not be longwinded. “General Quillin. Is aught the matter?”
He caught up to her, extended an arm, silently insisting on escorting her somewhere. The expression on his face suggested he had a serious matter to discuss. Intrigued, Riana took the arm and followed where he led.
In fact, he led her through the very door she had been intending to escape through. He did not, however, go into the main street but to a bench next to one of the open fountains. It seemed an odd place for a confidential conversation, if that was what he intended.
“I always speak to people out in the open,” the general explained, no doubt reading the confusion on her face. “There are two reasons for this. One, no one suspects that I’m speaking of secrets. Two, this way I know for certain that no one can eavesdrop on me, as I’m able to see all around me at all times.”
The man did have a point. “Are we speaking of secret things, then?”
“Indeed we are, young lady.” He leaned in an inch. “I happen to know that Saira Vaulx is a sweet lass with midnight hair and a club foot. Met her once years ago, although the Vaulx family has likely forgotten that, as I was not a general then.”
Riana’s heart froze.
“I do not know entirely your identity nor will I ask,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just given her heart failure. “I have ascertained from your conduct and conversations that you are an ally of Hendrix’s, here on his behalf, and I applaud your wits and courage. Not many people are capable of doing all of this. I shall not endanger you by asking anything about you.”
Breathe. Riana had to remind herself firmly to breathe. There was a panicked inquiry from Ash and she had to send back a reassurance even though she didn’t feel at all calm. The very last thing she needed was him bursting through those gates. “General Quillin. If you intend to have me keel over from fright, you very near succeeded.”
Laughing, the general shook his head in denial. “You’ve faced down a mad king and assassins. You have nerves of steel, young woman. I didn’t think this would frighten you.”
“You have more faith in my nerves than I do,” she muttered. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eye. “You told me all of this for a reason. What is it?”
He gave her an approving nod. “Just so. I want you to pass along a message to Hendrix for me. I am on his side. Whatever I can do to support him, I shall. If he needs my help, send a message through you, and consider it done.”
What this man just said was huge. Riana stared at him with jaw agape, quite sure her ears were pranking her. With a small shake of the head, she forced herself to focus. “Sir, are you sure? Your position—”
“Soon,” Quillin interrupted, tone absolutely certain, “Zelman is going to lose all patience with Maddox and his lack of progress concerning Estole. I can see the signs of that well enough. Out
bursts like today are not uncommon. When he finally does hit his limit, he’ll call me out of retirement and hand the problem of Estole over to me. I cannot in good conscience wage war on Estole. Edvard Knolton has become the standard bearer of what a king should be. It would be a waste to kill him.”
Riana felt this man’s courage fill her heart and had the strongest urge to just reach out and hug him. “To borrow your own sentiment, my lord, just so.”
He gave her a wink. “Prince Hendrix has a plan on how to deal with this mess, I assume?”
“He does.”
“Then tell him to hurry up. Old men don’t like to be kept waiting.” Smacking his hands down on his knees, he pushed his way up to his feet. “Young lady, do you need an escort home?”
Riana shook her head. “I have someone waiting outside of the gates. Do you truly not have any questions for me?”
“The less I know, the better at this stage. You just pass along that message to Hendrix.”
“I shall.” Riana still felt that she owed him something. He had taken a considerable risk telling her anything. Standing as well, she offered, “General? When all of this is over—which will be soon—I’ll be very pleased to introduce myself to you.”
Quillin gave her a nod, expression pleased. “I’ll look forward to that day with all my heart. Until then, young lady, I wish the both of us the best of fortune.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Macha knew they needed it. She watched him walk away and wondered, still mentally reeling, how in the world was she supposed to report any of this? People were likely to faint at the news.
Shaking her head, she headed for the gate, mentally rehearsing different ways to approach this. Hopefully she’d come up with something before she met with Ash. He was sure to demand what had startled her so, as she would in his shoes. If she didn’t phrase it right, he might just keel over in shock.
Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3) Page 23