“You like me.”
Color crept up his cheeks. “You’re pretty, and you’re brave as anyone I ever saw. And I like you.”
She felt her mouth creep up at the edges and fought the smile. Then gave in to it, looking up at him, and rose onto her toes to plant a kiss on the roughness of his cheek.
He glanced down at her, his gaze, for just a moment, showing that heated hunger that she had felt in his kiss. “Sometime, I think I’m going to get you alone when there isn’t some kind of life threatening situation to interrupt me.”
Amara’s tongue promptly stuck to the roof of her mouth, which had as abruptly gone dry. She tried to gather up enough of her suddenly scattered wits to respond, but the sound of heavy boots on the stairs came first, and a key rattled in the door.
The door opened, and Pluvus Pentius faced them with a vacuous expression.
Or rather, that was Amara’s first impression. The truthfinder’s head lolled forward on his neck, and a moment later he let out a distinct snore. The door opened farther, and Amara saw two men on either side of the snoozing truthfinder, supporting his limp weight. One she recognized, the grizzled old healer from earlier in the day. The other wore a centurion’s breastplate and helmet, a round-faced man of middle years with dark, squinting eyes.
“Bernard,” said Harger cheerfully. “I was just asking Pluvus here if we shouldn’t let you out, and he said ‘yes.’ ” Harger seized Pluvus’s hair and vigorously rocked his head back and forth. “See? The boy can’t handle his drink, I’m afraid.”
“Steadholder,” said the centurion, his voice tense. “This could be worth my helm.”
“Giraldi.” Bernard stepped forward and clasped the man’s shoulder. “Good to see you. How’s Rosalia?”
“Worried,” Giraldi said, his squinting eyes moving from Bernard back to Amara. “Bernard, what’s going on?”
“The Marat are coming. Here. And we think they have the support of a company of mercenary Knights.”
Giraldi stared at Bernard, his mouth dropping open. “Bernard. That’s crazy. That couldn’t happen. Alerans helping the Marat?”
“I was half killed by a Marat warrior near Garados two days ago,” Bernard said. “Last night, a group of crafters stronger than me tried to kill my nephew, who had also seen them.”
“Tavi? Great furies, Bernard.”
“There isn’t any time. I told Gram, and he believed me. He ordered a full arming and mobilization, scouts to be sent out, messengers to Riva for reinforcements, before we were attacked by more of the same at the gates to Garrison. Has it been done?”
“I’ve ordered my full century on watch and armed, Bernard, and I’ve sent runners to the watchtowers to make sure the balefires will be lit if there’s trouble, but that’s as much as I can do on my authority.”
“Then do it on Gram’s,” Bernard said. “Get the Knights armed and ready and the rest of your Legion armed out. Bring the local folk inside the walls and get word to Riva. Without the support of the Rivan Legions, it might not matter if we are ready to fight.”
With an irritated growl, Giraldi shoved Pluvus’s weight onto Harger, who accepted it with a grunt. “Bernard,” Giraldi said, “you don’t understand. Pluvus is bringing charges against you. Treason, Bernard. He says you were a part of a plot to assassinate Gram.”
“That’s a load of slive droppings, and you know it.”
“But I’m not a Citizen,” Giraldi said, his tone quiet. “And off your steadholt, neither are you. With Gram down —”
“How bad is he?”
Harger grunted. “Not good, Bernard. Unconscious. The knife got him low in the back. He’s not as young as he used to be, and he’d been drinking pretty heavy the past few weeks. I’ve done as much as I can for him, but we sent one of our Knights Aeris to bring a healer with more skill than me. I’m a workhorse, but this is delicate. Beyond me.”
“At least you’ve done that. Did he take any word of the attack?”
Giraldi made a frustrated sound. “Bernard. There hasn’t been an attack. There hasn’t been any sign of an attack.”
“It’s coming,” Bernard snapped. “Crows and carrion, you know what Gram would do. Do it.”
“I can’t,” Giraldi snarled, “Pluvus gave specific orders against a general arming at ‘wild and unfounded rumor.’ Unless Gram gives me orders himself, I won’t be able to do any more than I already have. You don’t think I want to, Bernard? I’ve a wife and three children here. I don’t have the authority.”
“Then I’ll—”
Giraldi shook his head. “You don’t either. There are men here who know you, but there are a lot of new ones, too. Those fools you met at the wall today.”
Harger let out a nasty chuckle.
Giraldi shot the healer a hard look. “You flattened the son of a Rivan Lord, Bernard. They’re insulted, and they aren’t going to take any orders from you. You don’t have the rank to do this.”
Amara stepped forward and said, “I do.”
The three men fell abruptly silent. Giraldi reached up and swept off his helmet, a polite gesture. “Excuse me, young lady. I didn’t see you there. Miss, I know that you want to help, but—”
“But this is man’s work?” Amara asked. “None of us have time for that, centurion. My name is Amara ex Cursori Patronus Gaius. His Majesty has seen fit to grant me the honorary rank of Countess, which I believe entitles me to the same privileges of command as Count Gram.”
“Well, young lady, in theory I’m sure that —”
Amara stepped closer to the centurion. “Why are you wasting my time, centurion? You obviously believe that there is a threat, or you wouldn’t have armed your men. Stop getting in my way and tell me who I have to bring to heel to get anything done around here.”
Giraldi stared at her in baffled surprise. Then he looked at Bernard and said, “Is she telling the truth?”
Bernard folded his arms and eyed Giraldi.
The centurion passed a hand over his close-cropped hair. “All right, Your Ladyship. I suppose the first place to start would be Pluvus —”
Harger drawled, “Pluvus agrees with whatever the lass says, don’t you sir?” He took Pluvus’s hair and nodded his head back and forth. “There you have it. I’m the doctor, and in my medical opinion, this man is of sound judgment. Sounder than when he’s awake, anyway.”
Giraldi swallowed nervously. “Yes, and then you’d have to speak to Pirellus, Your Ladyship. He’s the Knight Commander of the garrison here. If he goes with you, the other centurions will follow his lead, and their men with them.”
“Pirellus? Pirellus of the Black Blade?”
“Aye, Your Ladyship. Strong metalcrafter he is. Fencer like I’ve rarely seen. Old blood, old family, that one. He don’t care much for these puppies we got, but he don’t care to be ordered about by a woman, either, Your Ladyship. He gave ’Finder Olivia headaches like you never saw.”
“Wonderful,” Amara said, drawing in a breath, thinking. Then she turned to Bernard. “I need my sword back.”