“Thank you for your confidence. I have talked many times to Khalad since then, and he has also been supportive. I suppose that’s what brothers are for. But I don’t think I have to tell you that. You and Fox have had your share of troubles.”
“I took his death hard,” I confessed, still embarrassed by my previous outburst. “I knew nothing then of Dark asha. I thought I had raised him from the dead through sheer force of will alone.”
“And now he’s both an asha’s familiar and a third lieutenant.”
I stopped. “Third lieutenant?”
Prince Kance looked surprised. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“He’s in the army?”
“He’s conscripted, but his duty is only to protect you. My father made him a third lieutenant, with financial compensation guaranteed for your family. Sir Fox has been taking part in Kion’s military exercises and has performed admirably enough to be ranked in so short a time.”
“And how long has this been going on?”
“Shortly after you became an apprentice. I’m sorry, Lady Tea, I assumed he’d told you.”
“Don’t be, Your Highness.” I wasn’t mad, not really. It explained Fox’s bruises, his limp. If anything, I felt glad that he wasn’t involved in anything shady. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him off that easily.
? ? ?
I’d never had reason to visit the Ankyon palace before, but most of the courtiers and servants took one look at my apprentice robe and left me alone. I concentrated on keeping my presence hidden from my brother until the last possible minute, but I soon saw that this wasn’t necessary; Fox was distracted, judging from the irritation I could feel coming from him.
A large man in a general’s uniform passed me, confirming my suspicions. There was a large tattoo of a bird on his neck—he was the same man I had seen in my previous vision of Fox.
I peered into an inner courtyard and found him with his arms crossed, staring stonily down at a younger woman dressed like an asha. I’d come at the tail end of their argument; the woman threw her hands up in disgust and marched away. Fox was too busy watching her leave to notice me.
“A lover’s spat?”
“Tea! What are you doing here?” My brother was wearing a soldier’s uniform: plain tan breeches and a long-sleeved shirt.
I pointed at a star insignia on his shoulder, a symbol of his soldier’s rank. “I could ask you the same question,” I countered.
He coughed. “I’m getting my official papers at the end of the week. I planned on telling you then.”
“Was all this your idea?”
“No. Your Mistress Parmina’s.” My mouth fell open. “The Odalian army doesn’t have the intensive training Kion’s does. She wanted to make sure I could protect you if it came down to it.”
“I’m surprised she paid attention to you long enough to suggest that.”
“Lady Mykaela’s doing, I’m sure.” He scanned my face worriedly. “I’m sorry, Tea. I should have told you sooner.”
“I can’t say I’m pleased by all this planning behind my back—but honestly, I’m relieved. I thought you’d be involved in something illegal.”
“Thanks.”
“Make it up to me. Tell me who that girl was. A girlfriend? She knows you’re dead, right?”
He winced. “No! She’s…she’s not very happy to find a corpse wandering around the castle. She’s dead set against them, in fact. That’s another reason I agreed to join the army. I may be a corpse like she claims, but I’m not useless.”
It was easy for me to forget that my brother was dead, easy for me to forget that he wouldn’t forget it. “You’re not useless, Fox. And I’ll beat up the next asha to say otherwise.”
“She’s not…” He trailed off and then hugged me. “Thanks, Tea.” He sounded amused for some reason, and I didn’t understand why until much later.
? ? ?
I had one other patron who frequently requested my presence at parties. Councilor Ludvig of Istera was an old man with a pinched face, prone to going into rants about how things were better in his time, because for many years he served as King Nodvik’s most senior political advisor and guided the small winter kingdom into a robust economy and into one of its most peaceful eras. He retired a few years ago, but his mind remained as sharp as ever. He had no patience for flattery and always called things the way he saw them, regardless of whose feelings were hurt in the process. I enjoyed conversations with him immensely.
When I first met him, he was in a horrible mood. Another round of Deathseekers from the kingdoms had been dispatched to hunt for the still-elusive savul, and he was opposed to the idea.
There were already other asha in the room when I entered, trying to steer him away from the gravity of the discussion. Other guests were also present, all close friends of Councilor Ludvig and used to his ways.
“Do the kings today have nothing but empty space between their ears?” he demanded, ignoring my entrance. “Have they done nothing but be coddled by their mothers for the first thirty years of their lives? To take out most of the Deathseekers in the kingdoms is tantamount to suicide. They are inviting open conquest of their own kingdoms. If I were a jackanape with a large enough force and a command of the runes, I could conquer Tresea in three days before any word could reach the bulk of your men, Vorkon! A standing army will not last long when there is magic involved.”
“We are at peacetime, my lord councilor,” one of his friends pointed out. “And there are no standing enmities among the kingdoms. Even your Istera and Tresea have a treaty, and historically, you have always been enemies.”
“And you are an idiot for letting peacetime lull you into a false sense of security,” Councilor Ludvig raged at him. “Can you not see that there is no need for treaties to one who might be biding their time?”
“Now you’re being paranoid, Ludvig,” the first diplomat to the Yadosha city-states rejoined good-humoredly. “No one can control the daeva. That is the point. Not even the Dark asha can do so, as Lady Tea can attest to. None of the Faceless have been strong enough to do more than—”
“And what enemy would choose to show their strength? It is not enough to fight off attacks as they happen—it is important to predict how and when they occur to prevent them from happening to begin with!”
“My apologies,” Vorkon, the Councilor to Tresea, said to us in a near whisper. “He hasn’t always been this angry. He was the most brilliant man I’d ever met as a young man, despite our kingdoms’ animosity. Quite a mind.”
“Now, now, Councilor,” a pretty, brown-haired asha named Bryndis interjected. “We shouldn’t be talking about such serious things at a party. Come, why don’t you tell us about the many achievements you have had? It is not every day that we have as our guest of honor one who has forged such a successful path for the kingdom of Istera! King Rendorvik must owe a lot to you!”
“If only his son had his father’s guts,” Councilor Ludvig snorted, unswayed.
“Councilor Ludvig! Such a thing to say about your king!”
“He’ll live. I have said worse things to his face.”