“No, no, you are not. You are most kind. It’s the others I—You are the only one—” She sighed. “Please, I would be honored if you would escort me.”
Breckton snapped smartly to attention, bowed, and offered his arm once more. They walked silently to the stairs and up to the fifth floor. Passing by a set of guards, they proceeded to a chamber door. Breckton nodded and smiled at Gerald, who responded with a salute—something Amilia had never seen the guard do before.
“You are well protected,” Breckton remarked.
“Not me; this is the empress’s chambers. I always check on her before retiring. To be honest, you shouldn’t even be on this floor.”
“Then I will take my leave.”
He started to turn.
“Wait,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Here.” She pulled off her scarf and handed it to him.
Breckton smiled broadly. “I will wear it at the tournament proudly and represent you with honor.”
Taking her hand, he gently kissed the back of it. Then the knight bowed and left. Amilia’s gaze followed him until he reached the stairs and disappeared from sight. When she turned back, she found Gerald grinning. She raised an eyebrow and the guard wiped the expression from his face.
Amilia entered the imperial bedchamber. As always, Modina was at the window. Lying on the stone in her thin white nightgown, the empress looked dead. Amilia found her this way most nights. The mirror was still intact and Modina was merely asleep. Still, Amilia could not help thinking that one day… She pushed the thought away.
“Modina?” She spoke softly as she rocked the empress’s shoulder. “Come, it’s too cold to lie there.”
The girl looked up sadly, then nodded. Amilia put her in bed, covered her with a blanket, and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving Modina to sleep.
Hadrian was squeezing melted candle wax between his fingers and listening to the rhythmic snores of the earl. Even his shadows looked tired, although they were different men since the shift change. He wondered how long he was expected to remain in the hall.
He saw Sir Breckton return to the feast, but rather than resuming his seat, the knight struck up a conversation with Nimbus. He watched them for a moment and then noticed movement at the head table. To Hadrian’s dismay, Regent Saldur picked up his wine goblet and walked directly toward him.
“You’ve done well,” the regent said while taking the seat across from Hadrian. “Or at least it appeared so from over there. Sentinel Guy and Lord Marius speak highly of you.”
“Lord Marius? You don’t mean Merrick Marius?”
“Yes, you remember him, don’t you? He was at our little meeting. Oh, how foolish. Perhaps we forgot to introduce him. Marius said he was extremely impressed with a recent assignment that you and your partner performed on his behalf. By the sound of things, it was quite difficult. He even told me that he thought only you two could have accomplished such a feat.”
Hadrian clenched his teeth.
“I’ve been thinking… Perhaps when this business with Breckton is over, you might find working for the empire preferable to exile with Gaunt. I am a pragmatist, Hadrian, and I can see the benefit of having someone like you aiding in what we are trying to accomplish. I’m sure you’ve heard any number of terrible things about me or what I may have done. But you need to realize I’m trying to rid our world of problems that plague all of us, commoner and noble alike. Roads have gone to ruin. You can hardly travel in spring due to mud. Banditry is rampant, which hampers trade and stifles prosperity. Every city is a cesspool of filth and few have adequate fresh water. There are not enough jobs in the north, not enough workers in the south, and not enough food anywhere.”
Hadrian glanced across the hall and saw Breckton and Nimbus leaving the feast together. A little while later, Murthas, Elgar, and Gilbert downed their drinks and left in the same direction.
“The world of men has many enemies,” Saldur droned on. “When petty kings war with each other, they weaken the nations with their childish feuds. I have long believed these squabbles leave the doors open for invasion and invite destruction. You might not know this, but the Ghazel and Dacca have been raiding from the south. We don’t publicize this information, of course, so few know just how severe it has become, but they have even invaded Tur Del Fur.”
Hadrian glared. “If you didn’t want the Ghazel as neighbors, you probably shouldn’t have invited them.”
Saldur looked at him curiously for a moment and then said, “I did what was necessary. Now where was I? Oh yes. Not everyone can keep what they have if things are to change. There must be sacrifices. I have tried to be reasonable, but if a leg is infected and cannot be saved, it must be removed for the good of the body. I hope you can see past these small costs and recognize the larger implications. I am not an evil man, Hadrian. It is the world that forces me to be cruel, but no more so than a father forcing his child to swallow an unpleasant medicine. You can see that, can’t you?”
Saldur looked at him expectantly.
“Am I allowed to leave?” Hadrian asked. “The feast, I mean.”
Saldur sighed and sat back in his chair. “Yes, you can go. You need to get plenty of sleep. The tournament begins in two days.”
Pinecones and holly garland, the remnants of wayward revelers, littered the hallways along Hadrian’s path to the knights’ wing. Rounding a corner, he found Nimbus slumped against the corridor wall. The courtier’s tunic was torn, and his nose bleeding. Sir Gilbert stood above him, grinning. Through the doorway of the common room, Hadrian spotted Sir Breckton. Armed with only his dress dagger, the knight defended himself against Murthas and Elgar, each of whom wielded a sword as well as a dagger.
“Look who’s joined the party,” Gilbert said as Hadrian approached.
“Given this situation,” Hadrian asked Nimbus while keeping his eyes on Gilbert, “how much generosity am I required to extend to these fellow knights?”
In the common room, Murthas swiped at Breckton, who caught the sword with his little blade and cast the stroke aside.
“Given the situation,” Nimbus said quickly, “I think the virtue of generosity is not applicable.”
“Indeed!” Breckton shouted. “They have forfeited their right to honorable treatment.”
Hadrian smiled. “That makes this a lot easier.” Drawing his own dagger, he threw it into Gilbert’s thigh. The knight cried out and fell to his knees, looking up in astonishment. Hadrian punched him in the face, and his opponent collapsed. Taking both his and Gilbert’s daggers, Hadrian advanced.
Elgar sneered as he turned to face Hadrian, leaving Breckton to Murthas.
“I hope you joust better than you wield a sword,” Hadrian said, approaching.
“We haven’t even fought yet, you fool,” Elgar bellowed.