by Max Irons
Galeron looked at Arlana. “So, if Soren declares war…”
“He would be dead within the hour,” she said, nodding. “That is why I am returning to Harracourt. If I can prevent it, I will, and if not…”
“Did Kolvein know?” asked Galeron. “Is that why he killed Carys?”
Tulia shook her head. “He did not know. Likely, he chose Carys more out of opportunity than anything else. The death of the king’s favorite struck deeply, and blaming Fletcher made it all the easier with their affair.”
Galeron shook his head. The world had gone insane. That was the only explanation. Maybe he was dreaming. No, that couldn’t be. He’d had dreams that made more sense than this.
“On the matter of Lonni’s imprisonment,” Tulia said.
Galeron tensed.
“It is the crown’s decision to place her under the guardsmanship of House Porter’s paladin,” she said. “For the period of one year, Lonni Tomkin must remain in the keeping of said paladin until such time has expired.”
Galeron frowned. “What does that mean?”
Arlana chuckled. “In case you’d forgotten, Lonni is borrowed from Soren. It’s reasonable excuse for me in court. I can tell my brother I attempted to secure her release, but the Rayan queen is insistent that the law be followed. That should prevent any more shadestalkers from crossing your path.”
“Oh.” He sighed and strained to keep his eyes open as relief washed over him. Sheathing his blade, he said, “Thank you, Queen Tulia.”
“Rest, sir knight,” Tulia said. “You have earned it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Galeron slept, and slept hard, but when he woke, he found he couldn’t get up from his bed in the Porter mansion without a great deal of effort. His limbs felt like leaden weights dragging him to the ground, and even breathing was a chore he wished to do without. A legion physician stopped in a few times over the next week and a half. When Galeron mentioned difficulty moving, the physician shook his head.
“That’s what happens to a man with too much amorin in his blood,” he said, shaking his bald pate. “Pain is a good thing. It’s a message from your body, so listen to it next time.”
Galeron scowled at him from his pillow but nodded all the same.
“And stay out of the boxing ring,” he said. “You might have a small puncture to the lung, with the blood you’ve coughed up.”
Punctured lung? That didn’t sound good. “Shouldn’t we do something about that?”
“You’ve stopped, so if it was a puncture, it was very minor,” the physician said. “You’re also breathing normally. That’s always a good sign.”
He left instructions with a very cross-looking Phoebe, who visited Galeron’s room soon after.
“That’s a nice look,” she said, pointing at his blackened eye.
“Thanks,” Galeron grumbled.
“Do you know where Iven’s gone?” Phoebe asked.
“No.”
She sighed. “He’s got work to do, and Dianna’s having her baby. The stresses of the past day and night seem to have triggered early labor.” Phoebe walked back out of his bedroom. “Lucky woman.”
After a few minutes, something stirred under Galeron’s bed.
“Good, she’s gone.”
Galeron sat up on one arm and looked over the side of the mattress. Iven’s head poked out from under the bed frame.
“How long have you been down there?” he asked.
“Long enough,” Iven said. “It was the only place I could think to hide. I wasn’t going under Lonni’s bed, that’s for sure.”
Galeron flopped back on his pillows. “I swear, Iven.”
“I’m only doing this nobleman business for a few more hours,” he said. “After that, I’m free.”
Galeron frowned. “Get up here and explain.”
Iven wiggled out from under the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I went and had a chat with Queen Tulia. I’m going to adopt Dianna’s son as mine and then retire from public life. She and Phoebe can handle things until he’s old enough to take the mantle for himself.”
Was it just that simple? “I thought women couldn’t wield power in Raya.”
Iven shrugged. “Not permanently, but women regents for an heir aren’t unheard of. It’ll have the backing of Pendegrast and Marduke.” He grinned. “I may have leaned on Pendegrast and pointed out that you knew about his dust trading to get his approval, but I imagine Dianna will give Falco something to do. It gives his house more influence, and that, around here, is like offering coin.”
“Queen Tulia just agreed to it?”
“Well…” Iven looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “She didn’t like the precedent it set but figured it’s not likely to happen anytime soon. It’s a rare noble who wants less power, not more. Besides, I did help resolve the Kolvein problem, even if it was you going blow for blow with Bolthor.”
“Might want to tell Phoebe about all of this,” Galeron said.
“Not until the documents are signed and sealed,” Iven grumbled. “Otherwise, she can still make me act like a lord.”
“Perish the thought.”
“Aye.” He yawned, and then said, “So where are we off to next?”
“Give me a day to recover.” He glared at him. “We haven’t even gotten paid yet.”
“Maybe Arlana will pity that broken face of yours and pay us extra.”
“You’re lucky I can’t move that fast.”
“A failing of us both,” said a voice from the door.
Galeron and Iven looked around. Lonni, her arm heavily bandaged and hanging in a cloth sling, stood in the doorway.
“Don’t tell Phoebe I’m here,” Iven said. “I’ve almost made it the whole day without signing or stamping anything.”
Lonni rolled her eyes. “Galeron and I need to talk.”
Iven looked from her to Galeron. “Dangerous words.” He winked at him. “Run whenever a woman says that.”
Galeron shot him a glare. “I’m not going anywhere on this knee.”
“I’d best be off, then.” Iven got to his feet. “Time to see if the local barmaids are as fetching as I remember.”
He scooted out, and Lonni closed the door. Galeron raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter. He had an uncomfortable feeling he knew what she wanted to discuss.
“Was Arlana right?” Lonni asked.
Galeron blinked. That hadn’t been what he’d expected.
“Was Arlana right about what?” he asked.
She sat on the edge of the mattress. “Do I truly have statues in my mind?”
An interesting question. The honest answer was an emphatic “yes.” Lonni was certainly learned, but she was surprisingly closed-minded for one so intelligent. However, her question changed that assumption, at least somewhat.
“Why do you ask?”
“You almost died,” Lonni said. “Part of it was…was my fault.”
Galeron nodded. “And what makes you say that?”
Lonni bit her lip. “I’ve had time to sit and think. There’s not much else I can do with my arm in a sling.” She swallowed. “I was…overly hasty in a few matters.”
An understatement. “Perhaps you were.”
“Are we…are you angry with me?” she asked.
“Angry?”
He frowned. She’d certainly caused a serious headache by running off. He and Iven sacrificed a lot of time to find her, and Galeron himself had almost been killed in the process. Yet, Lonni came through for them in the end, despite her selfishness and fear. They couldn’t have defeated Bolthor without her.
“Maybe annoyed is a better word,” Galeron said.
Her shoulders sagged.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said. “You’re life has changed quickly, and you cling to what you know.”
“Is that what you believe?” asked Lonni.
Galeron rubbed a bruised cheek gingerly. “I don’t know. If you wanted an eloquent speech, you
should have kept Iven here.”
She smiled. “I have much to think about, it seems.”
“And maybe those statues aren’t as solid as they look.”
Lonni rose and then paused for a heartbeat. Her eyes flickered from Galeron to the door before she ducked and kissed him on the forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
With that, Lonni walked quickly out of the room. Galeron raised an eyebrow. Not as solid, indeed.
Recovery spanned several more weeks. The purple blotches covering his ribs and face soon faded into faint grays before vanishing entirely. His knee allowed him to move properly by the end of two weeks, but it developed a habit of aching whenever a late-harvest rainstorm approached. Galeron’s days revolved around his exercise routines, planned out by the legion physician to help his body repair the damage.
He spent most mornings with the legionaries and their massive log-lifting regimens before returning to the Porter house in the afternoons to practice his swordsmanship on an old training mannequin. It was during one of these sessions, in the middle of a cold downpour no less, that Arlana came to visit.
“Some days, I wonder if you enjoy the misery,” she said.
Galeron lowered his sword from the mannequin and turned around. Arlana, in a dark gray cloak, stood on the main walkway to the Porter mansion. No courtesan act, today. That was an improvement.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Shall we step inside?” Arlana suggested. “I don’t imagine you want to die of a wet lung.”
Galeron shrugged. The wet clothes were annoying, but they didn’t bother him as much. It felt better to do anything than be stuck in bed. They walked into the atrium, water ponding at their feet. Arlana dug a fat coin purse from under her cloak and handed it to him.
“As promised,” she said. “Though, the offer still stands for your other method of payment.”
Galeron scowled. “You tricked me. That won’t happen again.”
Arlana gave him her sultry smile. “I warned you, didn’t I, not to trust anyone? I never excluded myself from that list.”
“Our deal is complete, then,” Galeron said.
“Indeed it is.” She licked her lips. “It was a…pleasure to work with you.”
He sighed. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Arlana purred. “After all, weren’t those your parting words last time? My, how you went back on them.”
True, but the next time would be far too soon. “Is there anything else?”
Arlana patted one finger against her upper lip. “Mmm, now that you mention it, keep yourself clear for next summer. I may have more work for you.”
Galeron’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
She chuckled and gently brushed his face with an open palm. “Until next time.” Arlana swept out the door and into the driving rain.
He watched her go. Good riddance. Galeron bent down and rubbed at his aching knee. He tossed the purse at a passing Iven.
“We’ve been paid in full,” Galeron said. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“I can taste the mead already,” said Iven.
And there went the coin.
Galeron Triste and Iven Porter will return in Silver Depths: Book Three of Traitor for Hire.
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Author Bio:
After learning that dragons only exist in books, Max Irons decided that writing fantasy would be the only way to live out his wild imagination. Max frequently splits his time between writing the rest of the Traitor for Hire series, completing his pre-med courses, and keeping his blue heeler Phantom from herding the unruly neighbors. He doesn’t go out much, but if the planets align and you’re thinking traitorous thoughts, you might see him at a local coffee house in his hometown of Nashville, TN.