What’s fine is the way his mouth feels when I kiss him. What’s fine is the pressure of his knee against my thigh. What’s fine is the stroke of his thumb across my palm.
He breaks off, sets me back on the bench, and sits opposite, careful not to touch me.
“Kal…”
“We’re not alone anymore. Everyone is watching me.”
His tone is gentle but it still hurts, even as I know he’s right. “What happened to Nikonos?”
“We won the battle and took possession of the royal carriage, but Nikonos escaped. His East Saroese allies were able to signal to a war galley that was shadowing them offshore. He got away on the ship.” He rubs his eyes wearily. “He abandoned most of his troops.”
“He abandoned the people who fought and died for him? No wonder the soldiers of the Royal Army have the good sense to prefer my father, and you.”
His bleak expression lightens as his smile melts into me. I take hold of his hand, and he gives up the pretense of formality and slides across to the bench next to me, bringing his mouth to mine.
The door opens.
“My lord Kalliarkos.” There stands my father, with his impeccable timing, catching us doing the thing he adamantly warned me never, ever to do with a highborn Patron lord.
9
Kal squeezes my fingers in reassurance and only then releases me and steps down from the carriage. He does not blush as he nods at Father. Why should he? Father may be a general, but Kalliarkos is the prince.
“My lord, the army awaits you.” Disapproval sharpens Father’s diction.
Kal presses his lips together, glances at me, then says, “Doma Jessamy will accompany me.”
“My lord, these soldiers have maintained exceptional discipline under extreme circumstances. Your presence gives them courage for the final and most dangerous phase of our fight. Don’t let this get in the way; it will be seen as a sign of poor judgment and weakness on your part.”
Only then do I realize how many people are within view of the carriage and its open door, how many saw that the prince who means to be our next king woke the sleeping girl in the carriage and must suspect he gave her a kiss that should never belong to her. They don’t want a mule mascot to fight alongside. They want a noble Patron king to fight for.
“I’ll stay with you, Father.”
Kal’s gaze meets mine accusingly.
“You just said essentially the same thing in the carriage,” I say to him in a low voice.
His frown deepens. “Very well.”
He walks away, officers falling in beside him. A resplendent carriage flying the crowned sea-phoenix banner of the royal palace has been drawn up to take pride of place in the command company. The carriage also flies the personal banner of Nikonos and, to my surprise, they leave it flying.
Officers wearing the livery of the royal guards kneel before Kal and offer their swords, hilts toward him, as if expecting him to drive the blades into their bodies. They are commanders of the troops whom Nikonos abandoned. Kal speaks words I can’t hear; their weapons are taken away by the soldiers surrounding them. I press a hand over my mouth, short of breath, but they are allowed to live, to offer their allegiance to a new prince.
A splendid brown gelding is led forward. An officer ties a magnificent hip-length cloak of gold silk over Kal’s grimy riding clothes. Purple ribbons attached to the cape’s shoulders flutter in the wind. He swings onto the horse and a golden-handled whip is handed up to him. From this elevation he gives a triumphal wave and a crisp salute to the watching men.
A wild cheer roars, carried out along the ranks. His gaze touches mine across the distance that separates us.
The heat seems suddenly overwhelming. My vision blurs.
“Move back from the window, Jessamy.” An unfamiliar vulnerability trembles in Father’s tone.
An adjutant helps him in beside me. The frowning doctor hops in after and begins fussing over his leg as horns blare and the carriage rolls. Father massages his forehead, in more pain than I had guessed, but when he lowers the hand his gaze is clear. “Tell me what happened to Bettany.”
“To Bettany?”
“Do not pretend you do not understand me. When we were at Port Selene together, both you and Amaya slid around the topic of your sister as if around a scorpion on the path.”
I fold my hands on my lap and bow my head.
“If you are frightened to confide in me, Jessamy, then I have not been a good father. Bettany and I have had our troubles, but I love her just as I do all you girls. Please do not leave me wondering.”
The plea sounds so odd coming from his lips that it chases past all my defenses. So I tell him the story of how Amaya and I concocted a plan to search for our sister among the workers on the far-flung Garon estates, and how our journey brought us to Akheres Oasis.
“Bettany couldn’t forgive you or Mother. When she was taken to the mines with the other household servants it was a foreign doctor named Agalar who protected them. He took her on as an assistant and promised to train her as a healer. But it turned out he was a mercenary working with the East Saroese. She did try to warn us at first, without giving away the ambush at Crags Fort, but in the end she betrayed us in favor of him. I don’t know where she is now. I don’t expect to ever see her again. I’m not sure I want to.”
He sits in silence for so long that I wonder if I should comfort him, but I don’t know how.
Finally he shifts, a twist of pain parting his lips. “It should have been me who protected her.”
He looks so weary I feel shame using his regret against him, but I do it anyway. “Father, I left two fellow adversaries at the rear of the army, digging a trench to slow down the East Saroese. I need to go back and see if they’re all right. You wouldn’t want me to abandon my comrades.”
He winces. “Your desire to look for your friends is commendable. Steward Haredas will escort you with a squad of twelve.”
“I—”
“We are not discussing this, Jessamy. Besides being my daughter, you now have a relationship with the king that must and will change how people treat you.”
“Yes, Father. I was about to say I understand your concern.”
His rare smile flashes, and it warms me.
When Steward Haredas appears, I am handed over.
The rising sun bathes the royal banners with its brilliant light. A wind off the sea unfurls them like triumph. Around us, men sing a hymn to the Sun of Justice, and the roll of their voices thunders through me and makes tears come to my eyes. Isn’t this what justice looks like? The murderer Nikonos forced to flee and the Royal Army under its proper leader, a prince who will be a just and wise king as soon as he has driven the invaders from the land?
And yet Kal will have to fight his way into a city still ruled by his cousin Serenissima, knowing a huge East Saroese army dogs our heels and Nikonos is still alive.
“Doma Jessamy, please stay with me this time.” Steward Haredas has the look of a man who wants to be anywhere but at the duty he’s just been assigned.