The Lord Praesidio’s cheek inched up in a smirk. “Well, I hope you don’t believe we’re hiding Savant here at the Academy.”
George chuckled, relieved the formidable warrior had taken all he’d shared in good stride. “No, but now that you’ve put the idea in my mind…” George lifted a hand to shade his chocolate eyes against the brilliant sun. The ancient limestone ramparts of the Academy stood tall, protecting the realm’s scholars from the outside world for centuries. The barrier around the fortress was one of the tallest in the realm. The Praesidio, while expert fighters, were not a substantial army like the ducal forces, and to make up for their small numbers, the Academy had been designed as an impenetrable fortress, susceptible only to great amounts of siege. Its renowned security measures had been one of the reasons Jax’s father, Duke Richard, had allowed his daughter to attend the institution unchaperoned. “How have things been here? Last we heard in the early fall, the Academy had closed its doors.”
Ashcroft followed George’s alert gaze, stroking his coifed beard. “That was the plan. With tensions such as they were, the headmaster and I thought it best that we close the Academy until peace was reached. I planned to offer my services to Duke Crepsta once I got wind of a War Council brewing. I feared such diplomatic measures might end with violence.” His golden eyes glinted with shrewd darkness. “But then Ezarath changed his mind around the first of the year and summoned me back to oversee the reopening of the Academy. He has yet to share what changed his mind, at least not in its entirety.”
George noted the displeasure in the Lord Praesidio’s voice. While Gregorio Ezarath held the title of headmaster, everyone knew that any decision made about the Academy’s future also had to be authorized by the Lord Praesidio. It certainly didn’t sound as though Ashcroft approved of the measure.
“I take it you don’t believe it has to do with continuing to nurture the young minds of the realm?” George prodded.
Ashcroft’s eyes narrowed. “Just what are you doing here, Captain?”
George sighed. The Lord Prasesidio’s evasion of his question hadn’t escaped his notice. “The Duchess has had word from one of your professors, Lady Carriena Brunovaris.”
Ashcroft’s lips twitched with a snort. “I am well aware of Lady Carriena.”
Leaving whatever story lay behind that cryptic comment for another time, George continued, “Lady Carriena wrote to the Duchess about an overheard conversation between Master Gautherd and Ezarath regarding some suspicious records in a newly donated collection. Your archivist believes them to be providence documents that state the Duchy of Savant has a rightful claim to the Hestian throne.”
Ashcroft’s thick eyebrows disappeared under his hairline in surprise. “Nonsense. How could such documents exist?”
George folded his arms across his chest. “That’s what we’ve come to find out. Duchess Jacqueline does not want to declare herself the ruler of Hestes if it is truly not her rightful claim.” He paused. “Do you know where this new collection Lady Carriena mentioned came from?”
Ashcroft nodded. “Indeed. From an estate on the western border of Savant that fell into financial ruin last summer. The family tried selling off as many of their belongings as they could, but no one except the Academy seems to be in the market for old papers, scrolls, and books. It’s been a slow process. Ezarath has spent the last several months while the Academy has been closed finalizing the donation. My men finished bringing the last pieces of the collection back just a few weeks ago.”
“What house?” George asked. He and Jax had known for a while that the Duchy of Savant was under great financial pressure. Jax even surmised the Coalition of Right had been born out of Savant’s desperation to use his allies’ resources to fund his own nation’s vendetta against her.
“House Troissaint.” Ashcroft’s brow furrowed. “The Count appealed to Qylvard on several occasions for assistance, but Duke Savant reported that there were no extra funds to spare, leaving the noble house to go belly up.”
So, while he’s out causing havoc across the realm, his own people are suffering. George pushed his anger toward Savant aside and focused on the task at hand. “As you can imagine, given Lady Carriena’s account, Duchess Jacqueline is very curious about the origin of these providence documents and how they might affect her ascension.” His tone was formal, indicating to the Lord Praesidio the reason for their visit. “Could you relay to the headmaster that the Duchess of Saphire wishes to speak with him and review this new collection with Master Gautherd?”
“Oh, there’ll be no need to relay anything, Captain,” Ashcroft replied with equal crispness. “The Lord Praesidio welcomes Duchess Saphire and her delegation into the halls of the Academy.” He puffed his chest out and winked. “And if the headmaster doesn’t like it, he’ll just have to deal with it.”
‡
As he relayed his conversation with Ashcroft Carthington to Jax, her intelligent eyes widened with intrigue.
She tapped her chin. “Interesting.”
George was captivated by the way the sunlight caught her caramel tresses, creating a halo of gold around her head.
“And the Lord Praesidio has no idea why Ezarath decided to reopen the Academy’s doors around the same time the War Council commenced?”
Focus, Solomon. George shook his head, ridding himself of the angelic image. “He was more than perturbed by the fact Ezarath reopened the school without the Praesidio’s authorization, although he wouldn’t ever admit that there was a rift within the Academy leadership out loud. But he didn’t hesitate in welcoming you to its halls.”
Jax frowned. “Which leads me to wonder if the Lord Praesidio believes my presence at the Academy will annoy Headmaster Ezarath.”
George chuckled at her puzzled reaction.
“What’s that for?” Jax lightly whacked his upper arm.
He grinned. “After all the trouble you caused the headmaster, how could you possibly think he might not want to see you?”
His laughter deepened within his chest as she stuck out her tongue at him.
Ziri, who had been tending to the horses, approached the two of them. “Goodness, it is hard to believe this is considered winter weather.” She fanned herself as she tucked back a loose strand of her raven hair. “So,” she said, raising an eyebrow at George, “are we going to be allowed inside, or will the Duchess of Saphire be forced to camp out on the beach until her coronation?”
George admired Ziri’s plucky attitude, glad to have the young woman looking out for Jax in his absence. An unmistakable bond had formed between Ziri and Jax during their time at Fort Vyndheim, so much so that Ziri had opted to leave her life with the Knights of Grace to be by Jax’s side.
Jax has that effect on people.
Although, a small part of him wondered whether he might be part of the reason Ziri had joined the Saphirian court. The chaotic circumstances surrounding the War Council had compelled them to become allies, and that camaraderie had only continued to grow in the aftermath. What’s more, Ziri’s coy grins and lingering gazes over the last few weeks had awakened feelings he’d hadn’t experienced in a long time. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be? She was strong, intelligent, witty, and one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her flirtatious banter when they were alone together suggested she felt the same. But even if his heart beat faster when she was around, Ziri did not entirely bewitch him like the queen before him now.
“The Lord Praesidio is expecting us shortly.” George turned to inspect Jax. Upon his return to the beach, he’d found her playing by the edge of the sea, skipping rocks across the smooth waves. The simple activity had left her slightly winded. She seemed a bit peaked, the angry red scar on her forehead radiating against her pale skin. She’s pushing herself too hard, all for the sake of the realm. He cursed inwardly, wishing they had the time for her to recover fully. But time was a luxury they did not have these days. “Why don’t we rest for a bit before resuming our jour
ney?”
She met his gaze, her amethyst eyes burning with irritation. “I am perfectly fine to ride. We’re only ten minutes out.”
George didn’t miss the slight pinch of her nose, or how her fingers absently massaged her temples as she stalked away from him. She was fighting off another headache. He sighed. He needed to get her out of the hot sun as soon as possible. She hadn’t had ample time to recuperate from their journey across the continent, and now she was overexerting herself on this little adventure.
I should have demanded she stay behind. Instead, I let my personal feelings of wanting to remain at her side get in the way.
“Something troubling you, Captain?”
The scent of orange blossoms wafted over him.
“I know that look.” Ziri’s voice might be considered nothing more than a seductive murmur to some, but George noted the concern in her velvety tone.
He didn’t have to answer. His eyes simply lingered on Jax as she scrambled over to her tethered mount.
“I’ll ride Mortimer and let her rest.” Ziri skillfully calmed his fears. “We cannot blame ourselves for the Duquessa’s strong will. We can only protect her.”
George lowered his voice as he turned to face Ziri. “Be prepared for anything. I’m not yet sure what it is we are walking into.”
Her chin dipped in acknowledgment. “You don’t have to tell me twice, Captain.”
A bit of the tension in George’s neck dissolved in her presence. Having only known Ziri for a few weeks, it amazed him how perceptive she was of his thoughts, and how quickly they had fallen in sync with each other. And not just as colleagues. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she glided across the sands toward Jax and Mortimer. The southern sun had already darkened her olive skin, heightening her beauty. She exuded power, intelligence, and strength, traits he admired greatly in a woman. But there was a coldness about her that made him cautious to pursue anything more than friendship, more so since their arrival to Lamartre. He’d not made any formal declaration of his feelings for her, but whenever he toyed with the idea she would suddenly vanish, claiming the need to investigate something or other “on behalf of the Duquessa.”
And then there were, of course, his unresolved feelings for Jax. Could he truly give his heart to another woman? Could he really forget how deeply he cared for his Duchess, his future Queen? Deep down, he knew the unwanted answer. And would it be fair to give himself to another when his heart would never fully be rid of her?
George watched as Jax struggled to hoist herself up onto Mortimer’s back, his heart clenching at the sight. Before her head injury, she easily leaped onto Mortimer in one fluid swoop. Her strength is failing. He knew better than to run over to assist, but he had to get Jax to the Academy before she outright collapsed.
Ziri cupped Jax’s elbow and helped her situate herself atop Mortimer. Winded, Jax nodded her thanks to her new spymaster. George frowned, an involuntary twinge pinching his chest. His envious reaction proved one thing. He wasn’t sure he liked the strong bond growing between the two of them. He wasn’t used to Jax relying on anyone but him.
“Get ahold of yourself, Solomon,” he growled to himself as he stalked over to his mount. He had to bury these conflicting feelings for now. Jax had pointed out just what he feared: the Lord Praesidio had invited Jax and her delegation to the Academy to aggravate the headmaster. Why would Jax’s presence put Ezarath on edge? It surely couldn’t be due to something as inconsequential as the mischief Jax had caused as a student. Saphire had always been a champion of the Academy’s sovereignty and maintained a strong relationship with the institution over the years.
George thought back to Carriena’s letter, and how Ezarath had urged Master Gautherd to keep the matter of the providence documents a secret. What was Ezarath planning on doing if he found out the documents were authentic? Would he go to Jax? Or…would he turn to their enemy?
Chapter Six
The throbbing in her temple began to subside as Jax dozed against Ziri’s shoulder, barely conscious of the changing landscape as their party approached the gates of the Academy.
Ziri directed Mortimer to hug the tropical woodland shadows. The relief from the piercing heat did wonders restoring Jax’s floundering spirits as they rode. She would never admit it out loud, but Jax had begun to question her decision to make this trip. Maybe she should have allowed George to go on his own after all. The swift journey from Cetachi had worn her to the bone, but she knew if Master Holton had accompanied them to Hestes as he had originally requested, he would have demanded she remain on bed rest until her coronation. Perhaps that was why she’d ordered him to stay behind at Fort Uhstal and care for the wounded who were still recovering. She didn’t have time to lay in bed as much as she would have liked.
As she relaxed, leaning her forehead against Ziri’s back, Jax replayed the information George had shared regarding his conversation with Ashcroft Carthington. It concerned her that Ezarath was keeping secrets from the Lord Praesidio, especially given Ashcroft’s scholarly interests and diehard loyalty to protecting the institution’s treasures. Why had Ezarath forbidden Master Gautherd from speaking about the collection? What were his intentions if it turned out the providence documents were genuine? Would he come to her with the news, or would he provide Qylvard Savant with his newfound inheritance? Whatever the headmaster’s plans, she steeled herself for a chilly reception as they arrived at the stoic gates of the Academy.
Like most of the fortresses throughout the realm, a tall, solid barrier wall cocooned the Academy’s inner compound, hiding the school from view. Along the ramparts, Jax spotted the famed Praesidio knights, alert at their posts, all eyes watching their party.
After a flurry of muffled voices were heard on the other side, the massive iron gate before them creaked open, revealing a thriving courtyard inside. As Ziri clicked her tongue for Mortimer to advance, Jax took in the familiar sight. How many afternoons had she and her friends spent lounging on these stone benches, making fun of their professors and giggling at their awful attempts to impersonate them? How many hours had she spent watching the stars by herself, trying to forget the destiny that awaited her once she ascended the Saphirian throne? Some of her fondest memories had taken place in this very garden. Jax eyed a swinging bench that hung from one of the massive willow trees that sprouted from the carpet of soft grass. She sneaked a glance at George and saw he was staring at the swing, too. I wonder if the same memory comes to mind for him…
Shaking away thoughts of the distant past, Jax grappled for the canteen stuffed into her saddlebag and took a refreshing gulp. Thank the Virtues Ziri had known she needed rest after her frivolous, yet strangely taxing game of skipping stones. She now felt more revitalized, her head no longer throbbing.
In unison, her Ducal Guard escorts dismounted, standing in a protective formation around their Duchess. George had certainly not let his personal friendship with the Lord Praesidio get in the way of ensuring her security in the presence of a potential threat.
George arrived at Mortimer’s side, holding out a supportive arm for Jax to take. With ease, she slid from the stallion’s back, giving a quick nod of thanks to Ziri for handling the beast.
“You look more refreshed,” George commented.
She noted the uneasiness in his gaze. He’s regretting letting me come. Jax had to prove she was all right, not for her sake, but for her friend’s. George’s analytical mind would be no good to her if his thoughts were consumed with worry about her health. “The best I’ve felt in days,” she replied. “I think the change in the weather just took some getting used to.” She glanced at the sky, noting a few rainclouds gathering around the sun. “And it looks like it might change again.” She giggled and threaded her arm through his, allowing him to escort her toward the steps of the Academy’s main doors.
After handing Mortimer’s reins to an eager stable hand, Ziri stalked behind them, her stealthy footsteps barely registering on the cobblestone path. “My,
how grand,” she murmured in awe. “I would have thought the Academy to be a stuffy old ruin on the verge of falling apart.”
George snickered. “Scholars like their creature comforts, too.”
Jax could almost visualize the conspiring look the two warriors shared. A pang of envy thrummed through her. With George and Ziri’s growing relationship and Uma and Sabine left to their own devices in Lamartre, Jax felt as if a chasm had grown between her and her inner circle of friends, leaving a hollow pit of loneliness inside her. If only Perry were here…
She abruptly stopped that wishful thinking. From what Sabine had told her about Pettraudian burial rites, Perry could have been here by her side, yet something else was keeping him away. He had lied to her, purposely filling her with guilt and remorse. Why had her husband acted in such a manner? Why had he remained silent since?
“What’s wrong?” George lightly knocked her shoulder with his own, his chocolate gaze searching her face.
Jax swiftly rearranged her expression to conceal her internal distress. “I’ve just been overcome by a pang of insatiable hunger, that’s all.” It wasn’t too far off from the truth. The pastry she’d eaten earlier had been delicious, but not as nourishing as her fatigue warranted.
George studied her for a moment. “Well, then, perhaps we can ask to speak to the headmaster over an early lunch? It’s almost noontime, anyway.”
She knew he didn’t fully believe her white lie, but at least he was wise enough to let the matter drop.
While the rest of the Ducal Guard halted at the base of the stairs and took up their posts, George led Jax up the sweeping steps to the portico with Ziri trailing behind. An arched oak door, reinforced with brass plates, stood at the opposite side of the landing.
“Should we knock?” George raised an eyebrow her way.
Before Jax could respond, the door croaked inward, and a slim figure dashed out into the sunlight.
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