The man bowed, looking relieved. “Yes, Palachessa.”
Sage glanced at the iron door, feeling a strange pull. The man would be put in better conditions by nightfall. She wondered if he’d heard and understood their discussion. Probably not. Maybe she should say something to him. But what?
“Are you satisfied, Saizsch?” asked Lani. “Or is there more you would like to see?”
The underlying purpose of speaking to the man would only be to make him grateful to her and make herself feel better. Sage turned away. “I have seen enough.”
87
ONCE HE THOUGHT he heard her voice, as if through a thick fog. Then it was gone.
Alex’s escape attempt yesterday afternoon was unsuccessful, but when they’d caught him he didn’t go down without a fight. The Casmuni traitor had questioned him for hours, but he could barely focus on account of the pain—he’d fielded one too many punches to the gut in the confrontation.
Alex tried to resist the interrogation, acted like an ignorant foot soldier and gave inconsequential information, dragging his answers out as long as he could to put off the next blow. Admitting he was Demoran now would be a death sentence.
That night, when it was over, he’d almost escaped by grabbing the guard who came to feed him. The man had no keys, but the one who ran in to assist him did. Alex got them off his belt while both guards gasped and choked on the floor next to him—nothing permanent, just enough to incapacitate them while Alex unlocked his shackles. He got six turns in the corridors before running full-force into a boy carrying two buckets of water. By the time Alex scrambled to his feet, he was surrounded, and the boy cowered on the floor in front of him.
He didn’t resist, not wanting the boy to be hurt. This time they put him in a room so cramped he couldn’t have turned around even if all four limbs weren’t chained inches from the walls. Alex drifted in and out of consciousness, dreaming of Sage, until the ringed man returned, and suddenly the only thought that had sustained him was dangerous.
Because now the questions were about her.
Knowing Sage, she’d made herself valuable. She’d gotten close to the king and could therefore be used by this man. He wanted to blame her for the king’s murder, which, for all Alex knew, had already taken place.
“Who is she?”
Alex was blindfolded, hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, but he’d learned to sense the shift in the air just before he was struck, and he tensed. “I don’t know!” he cried out when the initial wave of pain subsided. “Captain Huzar never told me.” Alex still clung to his Kimisar identity, believing it was his only chance of getting out alive, his only chance of keeping her alive.
“What did your commander want with her?” The pain of the shackles faded under a fresh assault.
“He never said.” Alex’s ribs were so bruised he could barely breathe. “I was only following orders.”
“Liar.” The man forced Alex’s chin up. “You expect me to believe you crossed dremshadda and miles of desert on your own without knowing why?”
Harsh light leaked through the underside of the blindfold, making his eyes burn.
“She was incidental,” he gasped. It was hard to think of her as unimportant when she mattered more than anything to him. “I was only after the prince.”
Through the pounding in his head, he realized what he’d said, but it was too late.
For a moment there was silence in the room. No movement, no breathing.
Then, “What prince?”
88
THE COUNCIL HAD made no decision by the next morning. Sage was restless, studying maps of Casmun, trying to estimate how long it would take to get home by the long way. Lani dragged her out of her room for tashaivar in the afternoon, saying Sage needed to stop brooding. The exercise helped, but only for a few hours.
At dinner, Lani peppered her with questions about the marriages she’d helped arrange while apprenticing for Darnessa Rodelle, the high matchmaker of Crescera. The princess cast frequent looks at her brother, no doubt beginning the process of softening him to her desire to wed Minister Sinda. Sage tried to support her friend but stuck to political marriages. It was too painful to speak of love matches, which were more common in Demora than people thought. Her own parents had spurned the system and chosen each other, but so had Alex’s—though according to official records, they were matched and wed nine months before his birth.
Late that night she returned to her maps, unwilling to go to bed until she was too tired to dream.
“Mistress Saizsch?”
She stood from where she leaned over the table and dropped her distance-measuring tool. “Palandret?”
“May I enter?”
“Of course, My King.”
Banneth parted the gauzy curtains leading to the patio and stepped inside, nervously. “You are looking at maps?”
“Yes.” Sage pointed to her charcoal marks. “I was trying to determine how soon we could be home.”
“Are you so eager to leave?”
“No. Yes.” Sage sighed. “I feel welcome here, but it is not our home, and I want our family to know we are safe.”
Banneth nodded to the map. “They will know soon enough.”
Relief washed over her. “The council has agreed to send us home?”
“No, Saizsch.” Banneth shook his head. “The Demorans are here.”
“Here?”
“Well, actually, they are about here.” The king pointed to a spot in northeast Casmun, along the old trade route. “In four or five days, they will arrive in Osthiza.”
Merciful Spirit, that was swift. They must have realized where she and Nicholas had gone within days. “That’s good.” Sage tried to sound casual. “How many are coming?”
“Four hundred soldiers, plus an ambassador and his party.”
Oh, no.
“That’s quite a number.” Banneth tilted his head to the side and looked at her with piercing green eyes. “It makes me believe you and Nikkolaz are more important than you have told us.”
Sage felt cold all over despite the warm night. “Palandret—”
“I am not angry,” Banneth said. “I understand why you might not wish to say. And I owe you an apology. I have known about the Demorans for two days.”
“Does the council know?”
The king nodded. “I told them after you left with Lani. It was why I did not want her to stay. She would have told you, and I wanted time to think.”
“How did the council think on it?”
“The minister of war is not happy, as you can imagine,” Banneth said. “He is urging a military response. Others are fearful. They question your true purpose in coming here.”
“We were fleeing for our lives,” Sage insisted. “I never lied about what happened. The Demorans don’t want a fight, I promise.”
“And I believe you.” Banneth suddenly looked nervous. “Lani and I have been discussing ways to show our people they have nothing to fear, which brings me to my reason for visiting tonight.” He held up a finger, then stepped out to the patio briefly, and returned carrying a belt and harish—a curved Casmuni sword. “This is for you.”
Sage had wielded practice swords in tashaivar lessons, but the quality of this harish made them look like trash. Her eyes roved over the finely wrought scabbard and hilt. They were simple in decoration, and she wondered if that was in deference to her personal style. Her fingers itched to touch the weapon and test its balance, which no doubt matched its beauty.
The king offered it to her with a timid smile. “It is the finest steel in Casmun,” he said. “A weapon fit for royalty.”
Sage’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I am not royalty, Palandret.”