assurances about the firmness of my control over the clans. Something about rumors that have reached the ears of their liege.”
“Just as I told you.” She traced a tiny scar running down the cleft of his chin. “The death of the thanes was not enough. You must move quickly to consolidate your gains.”
He caught her hand and nipped at her fingertips. “We agreed to wait for Arion’s return. His report will tell us how go the activities along the border.”
Sybelle pulled away. “I grow tired of waiting.”
“Your distaste for my son does not sit well with me, Sybelle.”
She bit her tongue before she said what she really thought of his son. Antagonizing her paramour would only make him less biddable.
“I think only of your future. I helped you secure the greatest city of the north. Will you not trust me to guide you to your rightful place?”
He grunted and reached for a cup beside his chair. Sloshing the wine on his stain-riddled shirt, he took a sip.
“My soldiers are overextended as it stands now, love. It will take months to raise a new levy and train them, and weeks more to relocate them.”
“Then use the mercenaries I have secured for you.”
“I don’t trust them. Their commanders show me no respect.”
“They respect only strength, my lord. Show it to them-send them out to do your bidding-and they will give you the honor you deserve. The honor due to a king.”
He eyed her with a peculiar expression, like a man woken from a disturbing dream. He blinked and the look faded, replaced by his usual jaded gleam.
“Still, I would rather wait for Arion. When I know all is well in the south, I will feel more agreeable to do as you suggest.”
Sybelle stared at the duke, debating how hard to press him, but the sweet ecstasy of the temple chamber made her unable to sustain any true ire toward him. Against her better judgment, she let the matter pass.
She stood up. “As you will, my lord.”
“Where are you going?”
The sorrowfulness in his voice was like a knife down her spine.
“Stay and enjoy the fete.” She bent down to kiss him. “I shall join you later.”
Sybelle turned away as Erric reached for his pipe and signaled a servant to fire up another cube of kafir resin. She wasn’t thinking of the duke, or even the emissaries she had invited to forge a pact that would eventually unite the Northlands under Erric’s banner. Her thoughts were focused on a man who had thwarted her designs in another direction, a man who should be dead, and the plans intended to remedy the situation.
CHAPTER FIVE
J osey twisted the ring around her finger as she stood outside the ballroom doors. The imperial palace had three ballrooms, but this one-the largest-was reserved for state occasions. The strains of the orchestra tugged at the pain in her temples. She had cancelled her audiences again today, taken a ride through the imperial grounds, and even tried her foster father’s remedy of ground fennel root mixed in diluted wine, but nothing had relieved the headache. And now she had to contend with this infernal pageant.
Forty-two days. This morning when she woke up, she had been seized by a stranglehold of panic when she tried to conjure an image of Caim in her head and found herself grasping for details. It was the little things that she couldn’t remember, like the pattern of scars on his hands, and the smell of his sweat. She’d spent the morning locked in her bedchamber and called off the ball at least four times, and each time relented.
Josey took a deep breath that threatened to burst the seams of her bodice. Might as well get it over with.
At her nod, two footmen opened the doors. A wave of sound and light washed over her. Dozens of lords and ladies in elegant attire promenaded about the room. Crystal mirrors reflected the light of a thousand candles, and their soft glow lent the ball an air of otherworldliness. For a moment she forgot her anxiety and let the music carry her inside.
Everyone stopped and bowed at her entrance. The musicians stopped their song and began to play the imperial anthem. Josey smiled to everyone as she swept through the room. This isn’t so bad. Why was I so concerned?
Hubert came over to stroll beside her. “Put your hand down,” he whispered below the level of the music.
She nodded to an older lady in a purple-and-white gown that resembled the plumage of a strange bird. “Why?”
“Because.” Hubert inclined his head to a pair of older men in military uniforms. “You look like a farm girl on her first trip to the big city.”
Awkward warmth crept into Josey’s cheeks as she lowered her hand. “I’m a little nervous, all right?”
“No need to be. You look enchanting.”
She brushed her hands down the panels of her gown, chartreuse in tabaret with a lace decollete. “Well, thank you, Your Grace, but I don’t feel it. My head hurts, these shoes are killing my feet already, and maybe I would know what to do if you had been around today to coach me.”
“I was working hard on the behalf of your empire.” Hubert nodded to an aged duchess of some middling territory. “I have written to your rambunctious nobles, but I don’t expect a reply for some days. Perhaps longer, as they weigh their options.”
“Send another message. Command them to appear and answer for their offenses.”
“Yes, Majesty. And there is something else. I believe I have an answer to the Akeshian problem.”
“Really?”
“You’ve read the reports about food shortages across the realm. Last year’s harvest was abysmally meager, and with anarchy running rampant through the central provinces and the troubles on the border-”
“I understand, but how does this tie to Akesh-?” She grinned at him. “You want to offer the Akeshians a trade agreement. Food in exchange for peace. Very clever, Lord Chancellor.”
“Actually, Lord Parmian devised it. His plan makes perfect sense. Akeshia is swimming in grain, so they get rid of their surplus for a hefty profit. We receive the food we need and a chance at building a new relationship. Everyone benefits.”
“Except for the Church.”
“True. The hierarchs will not be pleased to see an end to the eastern crusades. There is also the matter of convincing enough ministers to support it, and then where to obtain the funds to pay for the grain.”
Josey took a cleansing breath. “I’m sure you and Lord Parmian will work out the details. Thank you, Hubert. This is the best news I’ve had in weeks.”
She hesitated before asking about the thing plaguing her mind, but then plunged into it regardless. “Any word from-?”
“No.” He dropped voice even lower. “Nothing yet. I have sent additional riders north, but none have returned so far. I will come to you the moment I hear anything.”
She hadn’t expected more than that. Still, she could not help but be a little depressed. “Thank you, Hubert.”
He started to bow, but his gaze wandered away to focus on something behind her. Josey turned and laughed in delight.
“’Stasia!”
Josey met her friend with an embrace. Pulling back, she admired Anastasia’s lavender gown, which fitted her slender frame like a second skin. Waves of golden curls framed her doll-like face.
“You look-”
“You look-” Anastasia said.
They melted into each other’s arms with laughter. Behind Josey, someone cleared his throat, and she let
