“Of course. But my sisters are the better warriors.”
“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” Isaak didn’t want to push her, but he also knew Tamar was relying on him to create a distraction while she attempted to speak to Mayu. A friendly chat while sparring wasn’t ideal, but there was no other way to get one of the Tavgharad alone.
Isaak tossed Ehri a practice sword, and she snatched it from the air with ease. He heard a murmur of disapproval from the Tavgharad.
“Princess—” the older woman began.
But Ehri was already on the attack.
She had radically understated her talents. She was a gifted swords-woman and moved without a hint of hesitation. Distantly he heard the grunts of the other fighters and dared a glance at them. He saw Tamar handily knock Mayu on her behind. She leaned low when she helped the girl up, and he could only hope they were exchanging the words they needed to—assuming Mayu was the guard who wished to defect.
Then the flat of Ehri’s sword struck him in the gut and his breath left him with an audible oof.
Ehri raised a brow. “Ravka’s king lacks focus.”
“How could anyone not be distracted by your beauty?” A weak riposte at best.
Ehri just laughed. She seemed more relaxed than he had ever seen her.
“You have a different fighting style than I expected,” she said. Probably because you expected a king raised from birth to wield a sword, thought Isaak. Instead she was getting a tutor’s son who hadn’t touched a blade until he had been drafted.
“I might say the same of you,” he replied honestly. He had the sense that she was holding back, though he couldn’t be sure. Were all the Shu princesses trained to wield a blade so well? He would be teaching her nothing.
Isaak heard a cry from over his shoulder, and both he and Ehri turned to see Mayu doubled over and gasping for breath.
“Enough!” said the older Shu guard harshly.
“My apologies,” Tamar said with a deep bow.
“And mine as well,” added Isaak. What had happened? Had Tamar gotten the information she sought? Was this all part of the plan? “I can take you to our infirmary. We—”
“No,” gasped Mayu Kir-Kaat. “I’ll be fine.”
“Please,” said Isaak. “I would hate to think one of my guests was harmed in what should have been a bit of good fun.”
“It was an accident,” said Princess Ehri. “We all know this.”
For a moment, the room bristled with tension as if trouble were racing from mind to mind, looking for a place to take hold.
“If I may, Princess,” said Mayu, straightening. “Among the Shu, amends would have to be made.”
Tamar frowned. “What did you have in mind?”
The guard exchanged a glance with Ehri. “Perhaps a private dinner?”
Tamar shook her head. “That would be seen as a sign of favoritism among the other hopefuls.”
Ehri looked uneasy. “We don’t want to cause problems for the king.”
“Surely the others wouldn’t need to know,” said Isaak before he thought better of it.
Tamar’s frown deepened, but she said, “Of course, Your Highness.”
When Ehri and her guards had gone, Tamar’s frown vanished. She punched him on the arm. “Well done. Another opportunity to chase information.” But his expression must have shown his disappointment, because Tamar drew back. “Oh no. Isaak, you witless podge. You like her, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat. “I know the game we’re playing. What did you learn from Mayu?”
“Nothing.” Tamar’s gaze grew thoughtful. “I told her I had heard she was keb and asked after her twin brother, but she gave me very little, only that they were from the Bol province.”
“Maybe she’s not the one.”
“Possible. She was scared of something though, and she doesn’t fight as well as I’d expect. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I misjudged her reaction times. She’s young and new to the ranks, so it’s natural for her to be a lesser fighter than the other Tavgharad. But if she’s failing in her training, she might be looking to get out before they throw her out.”
“Would she just go into the regular military?”
“After witnessing the Taban at their most vulnerable? Absolutely not. She would be exiled for her failure. She’d never see her brother or the rest of her family again.” Tamar returned her sword to the wall. “It could be someone else. Or no one else. Our intelligence networks in Shu aren’t what they should be. I’ll try to make sure I have time alone with each of the Tavgharad during your romantic interlude with the princess. Just make it a nice long meal.”
“If I must.” “Yuyeh sesh, Isaak,” Tamar said as she gestured for a servant to put the practice room back in order.
Despise your heart. A Shu saying. Do what has to be done. He knew how he was supposed to reply, the way a Shu soldier would reply, maybe the way a king would reply: Niweh sesh. I have no heart. But the words that came to mind instead were of the “Kebben’a” and the first blossom’s fall.
He was not a Shu warrior, and he was not a Ravkan king. He was just a peasant boy who wanted to have dinner with a girl who had been kind to him.
Isaak left the room in silence.
When Isaak met with Genya and David and the twins that night in his sitting room, he expected them to be excited over the prospect of his secret dinner with Ehri. Instead, it was as if he’d walked into a wake.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is it the king?”
Tolya looked grim, Tamar’s expression was murderous, and Genya looked like she’d aged twenty years. Even David had put aside his reading and looked, if not like the world was ending, at least mildly concerned.
“We’ve had news from Fjerda,” said Tamar. “They’re preparing to march on Ravka. It could be a week or a month, but war is coming.”
Isaak sat down hard. War. They’d barely had three years of peace.
“It gets worse,” said Tolya. “They’re marching under the Lantsov banner.”
Isaak looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Their rulers have declared for Vadik Demidov.”
“Who?”
“He says he is a Lantsov cousin and the rightful heir to Ravka’s throne.”
“But that’s nonsense. Even if he is a Lantsov—”
“His claim is supported by a man named Magnus Opjer,” said Genya, “a Fjerdan shipping magnate.”
“He was once an emissary to Ravka,” Tamar continued. “Opjer says he had an affair with the Ravkan queen. He claims he is Nikolai’s true father.”
“That can’t be,” protested Isaak. “It’s just Fjerdan propaganda.”
“He has her letters,” Genya said quietly. “If they can be authenticated—”
“Even if they can’t,” said Tamar. “It’s enough pretext for the Fjerdans.”
“No,” Isaak said, and stood, though he wasn’t sure why. “Ravka loves their king. They will rally to his side.”
“Maybe,” said Tolya. “I’d feel better if we could locate the Apparat. He and most of the Priestguard have gone to ground somewhere. If he backs the pretender’s cause—”
David shifted the book in his lap. “We probably should have had him killed.”