Kingslayer (20 page)

Which would give the wrong impression. Right. “I was thinking about it on the way over here. What about an aromatic oil?”

“Hmmm.” Sego put a crooked finger to his chin and pondered for a moment. “It’s borderline, but I think it an appropriate gift.”

“I assume you know of the right shop to buy it from?”

“I do indeed, General.” Sego got that impish twinkle again. “But perhaps you should consider hiring on a guide first? For your next exploration of the palace interior?”

Darius gave him a weary look.
I’m simply never going to live this down.

Several days passed in a whirl of activity for Darius without him really paying much attention. If he wanted the defensive walls in place in the Songhorn Mountains by the time that Brindisi marched again, he had to get them started
now
. With that in mind, he met with several architects and army engineers, going over blueprints and schedules until he had the logistics planned out. Then he issued orders to get everything started.

He’d already set up a rotation schedule to keep only the bare minimum defense at the barriers to let everyone recuperate, and ordered a different training program for the soldiers. His commanders were overseeing that. Well, he’d actually tried delegating it to the other generals, but they still wanted nothing to do with him, so it had perforce fallen back to his commanders. Darius knew that he would have to deal with the generals eventually, but eventually could wait a little longer.

 The next major thing on his list would be planning out the naval battle he knew would come, but he had to do a great deal of research first.

The day had waxed into early evening. It was the inconvenient time of the day where nothing could really be started and yet he had plenty of time before bed. Darius had half a mind to go to the palace library and see if he could borrow something to read when a knock sounded on his study door. Sego stuck his head inside long enough to say, “The queen has issued a command that you must be at dinner tonight. She said to wear your most formal uniform. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

Most formal uniform? It came to him instantly and he snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes. I forgot you weren’t there for that conversation. She wants to recognize me for the battle won so she’s planning to reward me with a sword that has my new crest.”

Sego’s eyes brightened. “I’d wondered if she would do something like that for you. She’s normally quite generous so I thought it strange that she had been silent all this time. In that case, I’ll lay out your uniform.”

Darius rose from his chair, waving him off. “No, go see to yourself. I can manage. We only have a few minutes before the dinner is supposed to start.”

“I’m fine,” Sego assured him, and without any false modesty. The man always dressed as if he were ready to enter court at any moment. Well, unless he was headed for a battlefield. His brows creased together briefly in a frown. “Although Bohme….”

“Deal with Bohme,” Darius advised dryly. “Don’t worry about me.”

Nodding seriously, he turned and quickly headed for the bedroom, calling for the bodyguard as he went.

It took a few minutes longer than Darius expected (largely due to Sego fussing around Bohme and Bohme trying to dodge him) but they eventually made it out the door. Some rumor of what Queen Tresea planned must have circulated the palace because the crowd heading for the formal dining hall buzzed with more excitement than usual. In fact, Darius saw more people than he normally did.

Due to Raja Morva’s efforts, Darius now recognized a few faces and exchanged courteous hellos as he walked. Surprisingly, he had a few strangers approach and exchange introductions with him. They clearly had ulterior motives, but each person was kind—superficially, at least. Sego looked as pleased as a cat in a sunny spot because of this change in attitude. Darius just felt relieved.

He finally made it into the dining hall, only to be forced to a stop a few feet inside the doors. The room had so many people that it would take a battering ram to move them. He expected to be very delayed until people found their seats, but when the ones closest to him discovered who hovered in their shadows, they spread the word forward and started making way.

Feeling a little awkward under their stares and weighing eyes, he forced a smile and weaved his way forward.

“Darius!” Tresea called from somewhere near the front of the room.

“Coming, My Queen!” he assured her.

“Come faster!”

Demanding little…just what did she expect him to do, ruthlessly knock people aside? Actually, she was
far
too excited considering that she only had an engraved sword and official crest to give him. He started to worry about himself. Just what else did she have planned?

After several tight squeezes and some careful maneuvering, he finally won free of the main crowd and reached his queen’s side. She stood there with her arms crossed, a pout on her face, and one toe tapping out an irritated rhythm.

Darius made sure his expression was bland as he gave her a bow. “My Queen.”

“That was the fastest you could get here?” she demanded in exasperation.

“Short of slashing at people, yes,” he responded neutrally.

He got quite the look for that response, but clearly whatever he said or did couldn’t dent her euphoria. She gave him a curt gesture of the hand. “I have something for you. Follow me.”

Please don’t let this be a potential bride or concubine,
he mentally prayed as he followed in her footsteps. In this country, it could be either.

Shaa must have been listening, as neither waited for him. Queen Tresea gave a nod to a servant hovering near the courtyard, and the doors were flung open to reveal one of the most beautiful white stallions he’d ever laid eyes on. Its coat seemed to shimmer, hair long and wavy, muscles powerful. Almost mesmerized, he slowly walked forward. It did not have the daintiness of most of the horses from this country, but had the size of a Walker from Arapeen bloodlines. The arch of its neck and the intent dark eyes said that this one had a mixed heritage, though.

The stallion watched him with keen intelligence. It stood still under the gentle persuasion of the stableboy that held his reins but Darius knew full well that if the horse wanted to, he’d kill anyone within range. This was a warhorse.

But he knew how to approach a warhorse. Giving a soft croon, he slowly extended a hand, letting the horse have plenty of warning. The stallion’s nostrils flared several times, taking in Darius’s scent, but he apparently liked what he saw. Pulling easily free of the hold on his reins—which made the stablehand squawk in surprise—he put his nose against Darius’s hand. Smiling, Darius lifted the other hand to give him a solid stroke against his neck.

“Well, aren’t you a fine one.
Boneu de touren clea sharasha?”

The stallion’s ears flicked at the Arapeen words and he rubbed his forehead more strongly against Darius’s hand.

The queen, watching silently during this exchange, softly clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, he likes you.”

“He does,” Darius agreed, breathing out a mental sigh of relief. If a stallion
didn’t
like you, it took a lot of work and training to convince him otherwise. He’d done it before but didn’t look forward to doing it again in the nearby future. “He’s amazing. Wherever did you get him?”

“He was bred here, actually. His sire was an Arapeen stallion and his dame a mare of good temperament and keen intelligence. He’s turned out quite well, I think.”

Darius turned to look her squarely. “He’s worth a prince’s ransom.”

“He is that,” she agreed without qualm. “But no general of
mine
will ride into battle without a proper warhorse.”

Well, the horse was far cheaper than the estate she wanted to give him. And he
did
need one, as the horse he’d rode last time was just borrowed from the palace stables. “What is his name?”

“Sohrab.”

Light? He fit the name to a tee. “It is a good naming,” Darius praised. Stepping back, he bowed to the queen. “I accept the gift with many thanks.”

“We are pleased with your acceptance,” she responded formally, mouth smirking. Turning, she waved to a servant boy hovering nearby, holding a sword. “With your warhorse, I grant you The Sword of Niotan, engraved with the new crest for the House of Bresalier.”

Darius half-bowed from the waist and extended both hands outwards to accept the sword. The queen took the sword herself so that she could personally hand it to him. The cool metal of the scabbard and hilt settled into his hands. He looked at his new acquisition with the same feeling as a child with his first sword. It had been perfectly forged in the straight style of an Arapeen sword. The scabbard was plain for the most part, except the round crest engraved near the hilt of the sword. The guard had been engraved as well, the steel lined with blue moonstone. He hadn’t been given any hint on what symbolism would be in his new crest. What he saw surprised him—an Arapeen sword and a Niotan sword were crossed in the background, with an open torch superimposed over all of it.

“An Arapeen sword to symbolize your birth country,” Tresea explained softly with warm eyes, “a Niotan sword to symbolize your new country and the light of Shaa that will guard and guide you whatever country you are in.”

Now when and where had she learned of his religious beliefs? The fact that she had obviously spent some time researching and thinking about this crest touched him. He grasped the sword more firmly in his hands and gave a much deeper bow than before. “Thank you.”

She inclined her head in return, a satisfied smile on her face. “Your victory has been a joyous occasion for us. We look forward to further success. Now come, and let us enjoy the banquet that has been set before us.”

~~~

Even after the majority of the food had been consumed, people lingered. Most took up glasses in their hands and wandered about, mingling with each other. Seeing a beautiful opportunity to expand his network of friends and allies, Darius decided to join in. He picked up his glass, bowed to the queen to excuse himself from the table, and headed for a knot of people that contained one person he knew.

“—are the aide and steward to Raj General Bresalier, are you not?”

On hearing his name spoken, Darius froze. He stood right next to one of the larger pillars in the room, which blocked his view of the speaker entirely, but the voice was quite definitely feminine and cultured. Whoever she might be, she had just as obviously posed the question to Sego.

“Indeed I am, Raja.”

“Forgive my curiosity,” the words were obviously meant as a formality and nothing more, “but I have long wondered what kind of man he is. Aside from the time we saw him give his oath to the queen, we have seen very little of him. Is he anything like the rumors we heard of him?”

Darius had been taught as a child that one should never eavesdrop. But being in the military actually encouraged the bad habit. The things that he heard when no one thought he might be listening were truly informative. Not to mention entertaining. So, without any compunction whatsoever, he leaned his back against the pillar and cocked an ear in their direction.

“Actually, Raja, he is as different from his reputation as the stars are from the moon. In fact, the rumors were only correct about two points: he is ruthlessly intelligent and a very formidable adversary.”

Darius blinked. If Sego’s words weren’t meant as some sort of political maneuvering—which they might very well be—then that was the highest flattery he’d ever heard the man speak. It made him blush a little.

“Really?” the raja, whoever she was, sounded enthralled by this answer. “Then pray, what is he really like? How would
you
describe him?”

Sego paused for a long second, as if he were considering his answer. “
Kind
is the first word that comes to mind.”

Whatever she’d expected, that clearly hadn’t been it. “Kind?” she repeated in bemusement.

“Yes.” The word had a certain wryness to it. “I did not expect that trait in him either. But he truly is. I’ve never seen a raj be so considerate and attentive to the people around him. In fact, he is such a good raj that I truly hope the queen grants him an estate of some sort soon. He would manage it very well.”

He nearly choked on the mulled cider in his mouth. What would Sego do if he discovered that Darius had already been offered just that and he’d turned it down…? The possible answer sent a shudder racing up his spine.

“A kind man…how astonishing. He certainly is a handsome one, in his own way.”

He was? Since when?

“Do you think he will take a bride soon?” the raja continued in a thoughtful manner that sent alarms clanging in Darius’s head.

“His position here is far too unstable for that yet,” Sego responded in a cautionary manner. “He is so new here that there are few that truly know him. But perhaps, Raja, you would consider properly meeting him? I know he would be grateful to make more personal connections in the court.”