Tal moved to stand before her, and she patted the divan, saying, “Sit.”
He did as instructed. Despite being in her forties, she showed only a slight dusting of grey in her otherwise dark hair. She had a thin face, but her eyes were wide and expressive, and her neck and shoulders—shown to good advantage by the clothing she had chosen—were elegant. Tal took it all in with a glance, the full bosom and long legs and, despite the fact that she had given birth to two children at an early age, her small waist.
Kaspar had given Tal all the information on the Princess he possessed, which was extensive: she was the sister of the Duke of Miskalon, at one time had been all but thrown at Kaspar as a possible duchess, had married a man she basically despised, and was all that kept Salmater from being overrun or controlled by one of its neighbors. Her son, Serge, was as big a fool as his father, and her daughter, Anastasia, was a simpering, spoiled brat. Svetlana’s passions included politics, hunting, and men. Tal had noticed all the palace guards in the Princess’s retinue were uniformly young, handsome, and tall.
“I trust you don’t mind the informality, Squire.”
Tal smiled, a polite and unrevealing expression. “Not at all, Highness. I am at your service.”
The Princess laughed. “Hardly. Kaspar would never send a fool with a message that is one rude word shy of a declaration of war. What does he really want?”
Tal realized the seductive setting was designed to throw him off-balance and distract him. He had no doubt he stood a fair chance of the Princess dragging him off to bed in the next room. He could read a woman’s moods as well as the next man, indeed better than most, and he knew she found him attractive. She was also the true ruler of this nation and used to indulging her every whim—women who rule through weak husbands, Tal had discovered reading his history, had decided advantages in their personal choices. As she was an attractive enough woman by any measure, he would be more than willing to indulge her in any fashion she desired before he killed her. Given the curves of her slender body, he would certainly enjoy it.
“I make no presumptions about my master’s desires, Princess,” Tal answered. “He stated his brief clearly in his message to you and the Prince.”
“Well, then, Squire,” said the Princess, leaning forward to pour two goblets of wine, and opening up the top of her gown enough to give Tal a clear view of her very attractive body, “let’s play a game, shall we?”
“Ma’am?”
“Let’s pretend we’re both seers, and we are able to read Duke Kaspar’s mind.” She handed him a goblet. “Now, you go first.”
Tal laughed. “Highness, I would be doing my master a disservice if I attributed to him motives or desires beyond the message he sent.”
“I’ve known Kaspar since before I came to this throne, Tal—I may call you Tal, may I?” He nodded. “I’ve known him since we were children, though I am only a few years older.” She sipped her wine. “I know him for the double-dealing, lying, murderous bastard he is, and love him anyway.” She smiled, and Tal found her even more attractive. “He’s one of my favorite enemies and lovers—that was before I married Janosh, of course. Besides, we’re playing a game, aren’t we?”
Tal considered. He quickly arrived at something that would not compromise his position, yet might help him resolve this little impasse. The sight of the Princess by candlelight was beginning to captivate him. He smiled, “Yes, it’s just a game, Princess.”
“Call me Svetlana when we’re alone, Tal.”
She leaned forward. “Now, what does Kaspar really want?”
“I can only guess, but I think he means to ensure you don’t end up aiding other enemies. The mapping expedition was clearly designed to find a clear route through to Olasko Gateway, and that’s of great concern to the Duke.”
“Understandable,” said the Princess, dipping her finger in Tal’s wine, then playfully outlining his lips with the finger.
Tal felt himself growing warm, and would have merely attributed it to the wine and the Princess’s seductive play, except that his training at Sorcerer’s Isle told him that something else was going on. He sipped his wine, applying his tutored palate to the task, and after a long sip identified a strange and ever-so-slightly bitter quality in the finish of the wine that was not supposed to be there.
He wasn’t certain what had been added to the wine, but he suspected a particular powder made from a certain tree bark. It was sold throughout both the Kingdom of the Isles and in Roldem as a curative for older men whose ardor was flagging. At his age it was unnecessary, but it certainly did seem to be working.
He put the goblet aside. “I think what my lord Duke really wants is to find one of his borders secure, so he can turn his mind to other things. He has ambitions—”