Inarsis answers me. “Because the Royal Army is currently in the Eastern Reach with General Esladas. They are fighting off an invading army from East Saro that marches with allies from the kingdoms of Saro-Urok and West Saro.”
“Exactly. My father thinks King Kliatemnos is still in power. It could be weeks before the news reaches him that the king is dead. In fact, Nikonos must be counting on Father’s ignorance. He knows the Royal Army is loyal to my father, not to him. And of course he knows that Father is now married to a woman who has a rival claim to the throne.”
We all look at Mother, then wince and look away. But Mother long ago mastered the ability to conceal her true feelings behind a bland curtain. “You are suggesting, Jessamy, that Nikonos must suspect the Royal Army will support Lord Kalliarkos and Lady Meno?’s claim to the throne instead of his.”
“It doesn’t matter,” says Inarsis. “The Royal Army is stuck at Port Selene fighting a rearguard action against the invaders, who have superior numbers.”
“Yes, but if any commander can win under those circumstances, it will be my father. So if I were Nikonos, I would march east as fast as I could with a cohort of East Saroese soldiers disguised as members of the Royal Army. General Esladas will welcome him, thinking he’s come with needed reinforcements. Then Nikonos will execute Father for treason and take over the Royal Army.”
“Jes is right,” says Kal. “Keeping control of the Royal Army with General Esladas in command is our only chance to defeat Nikonos. We have to reach the general first.”
“Even traveling at courier speed it will take twelve days or more to reach Port Selene,” objects Inarsis, but I know how to measure the adversaries I’m running against. I can see his resolve crumbling.
So can Kal. “If you can arrange to escort me upriver to reunite with my family, then you can surely arrange for Jes and me to ride east.”
“Jessamy is not going,” says Mother.
“I’m going. Father will listen to me.”
“The scenario you have described is real, and your father will listen to you, it’s true.” Mother’s lovely features and gracious, accommodating manner make people believe her to be compliant and passive, but nothing could be further from the truth. “But you can’t go. Lord Gargaron knows you rescued me.”
“Was the rude kiss-off gesture really necessary when we reached the shore?” Ro laughs. He’s leaned against the wall right where the sunlight illuminates his face so we can all see how handsome he is. “An ordinary person would savor such a victory in private, but only you—only you—would make sure to rub it raw right in a powerful Patron lord’s angry face.”
“He’d already seen Mother. Anyway, he deserved it. I beat him at his own game.”
Mother isn’t amused or appreciative. “He’ll be furious and won’t rest until he finds a way to punish you. So you cannot have anything to do with anyone in the Garon household ever again.”
I’m so dumbfounded by her unfair words that I can’t speak. Bad enough to forbid me to associate with Kal, but how can she demand I never again see my father just because he’s now married to Kal’s sister?
She goes on as if she doesn’t even realize what she’s just said. “The safest course is for you and me to return to Saryenia, because none of the Garon nobles dare set foot in the royal city while Nikonos rules. Lord Kalliarkos should do as Inarsis suggests and travel north to his people.”
“No! I won’t go with you to the inn.”
“No?” says Inarsis. “Is that how you speak to your honored mother?”
“You’re not my kinsman to scold me, Honored Sir.”
“Jessamy! Apologize to Inarsis at once.”
“My apologies, Honored Sir.” My tone is grudging. I’m so angry. “But I’m going to find Father, with Kal.”
I look at Kal expectantly, but before he can agree, Mother strikes for her target like an arrow loosed.
“Lord Kalliarkos, my daughter is not an ornament to gild a Patron lord and to show him as more broad-minded than others of his rank. Nor is she a badge of defiance with which he can prove himself to kinsmen who have ruled him for so many years. She is not a toy for you to play with and then discard.”
A flush darkens Kal’s cheeks.
Inarsis whistles.
Mis looks embarrassed, while Ro looks shocked—and delighted.
I’m stunned. Father has made it clear that he sees the attention of a lord like Kalliarkos as a danger but also as a distinction, even an accolade. It never occurred to me that Mother would see it as an insult.
“Doma Kiya, I have nothing but the highest respect for your daughter.” Kal’s fingers twitch when he is thinking really hard, as if he’s driving a carriage pulled by high-strung horses, alert to the slightest nuance. This is what makes him good with people. “She’s never been afraid to defeat me on the Fives court even though another might have chosen to let me win merely because of who I am. Furthermore, without Jes’s determination, you and your children and servants would be dead in an oracle’s tomb.”
“That is true,” she concedes without the slightest softening.
Kal can look as pleasantly unassuming as my mother as he circles in for victory. “Look at it with my eyes, Doma. Even a highborn lord, heir to two thrones, can marvel at a girl who will let nothing stop her.”
He smiles winningly. Her flat stare doesn’t thaw.
“Kiya.” Inarsis steps forward. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“You’re not Jessamy’s mother!” she retorts with more belligerence than I ever thought she had in her.
Inarsis raises both hands, palms out, in appeasement. “Yet she’s not wrong. A quick victory for Nikonos will hurt us all.” He nods at her in a conspiratorial way I can’t like. How deep runs the plot that’s clearly at work among the Efeans? Does my own mother not trust me enough to share what she knows?
Curling her hands into fists, she says, “Very well. Give us a moment alone.”
The three men go over to cluster around Mis and the babies, far enough away to give us the illusion of privacy if we speak softly.
I’m still angry but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her walk into an ambush. In a low voice I hastily say, “Wenru isn’t what he seems. It’s as if there’s a different self in his body. You need to be careful.”
“I am aware there is something unusual about Wenru. But I can handle a baby.” She raises a hand to seal my attention. “Your situation concerns me far more. Now listen to me, Jessamy.”
My name on Mother’s lips can sound as praise, as resolve, as encouragement, as love. But right now her tone takes a steep dive, like she’s plunging in for a kill.
“Lord Kalliarkos may believe he can treat you with the same consideration he would show a Saroese woman of his own rank—”
“Mother!”
“—but this is not their land. They build their palaces and temples atop what once were our cities and holy places. They trample our dignity beneath their feet. They live on what they steal from us, our hearts, and even the sparks of our lives.”