Cyrus jerked slightly from surprise. “Odau Genner. The King wants to see me immediately for some reason or another.”
She wore a robe, dipping slightly over her shoulder to reveal some of the scars that she had tried to hide from him, at first. “It seems unlikely he would summon you urgently for mere triviality.” She drew close, and reached under the blanket, drawing his attention to her. “We can finish our … interlude … later.” She kissed him. “You should get dressed.”
He grunted and retrieved his underclothes from the bedroom, pulling on his trousers and sliding into his shirt. “I wouldn’t mind it, you know. Getting married to you. Now that I know you, I mean.”
She stood next to his armor, ready to assist him in strapping it on, the chainmail already in her hands. Her back was turned to him, but he saw her freeze, halfway down, having stooped to pick it up.
“I would do right by you,” he said, coming up behind her. “I said no before, back when I didn’t know you, but I know you now, and I have no problem if you wanted to-”
“Not yet.” She turned to him and smiled weakly. “It is custom in Luukessia for a short courtship, only a few days in many cases. What we have done, here, this last month is … not unheard of, but rare. And I have enjoyed it, every day of it. As an unmarried woman, before I was the Baroness, it would have been impossible. My virtue was guarded carefully. Now that that particular castle has fallen, I find myself all the happier for it.” She smiled. “I wish to continue enjoying our time together without worry or pressure. Having you here, without concern of marriage or imminent motherhood from our dealings-that ventra’maq is really quite the wonder-I find myself in the dubious position being able to tell you I am not ready, whereas before I would have welcomed your offer.” She laid aside the chainmail and grasped both his hands, bringing them to her lips and kissing them. “Please don’t be upset that I say no-it is not no forever but only for now.”
“I’m not upset,” Cyrus said. “Long courtships are common in Arkaria, as are short courtships. Everything is acceptable, depending on where you are. As are extended periods of … well, what we’ve done here. I am not upset, and I understand.” He smiled and didn’t even have to try terribly hard to force it. “I trust you’ll let me know if the day comes you’d want to take me up on my offer?”
“I …” She started to answer but stopped, and he studied her as her small hands found his chainmail again and held it up for him, indicating he should lower his head to put it on. “I believe the day may come … perhaps soon, even … when that could happen.” She smiled. “Be patient with me.”
“But of course.” He held still as she strapped his breastplate and backplate on. “I think I can wait. At least a little while.” She slapped his backside in mock outrage and he laughed.
A few minutes later, he stepped out of their chambers and started down the long stone hallway. Martaina fell into step a pace behind him. “Any idea what this is about?” he asked her.
“As much as you do,” she replied, her green cloak trailing on the ground.
“What, you couldn’t hear it from across the castle when they sent Genner to summon me?”
“No,” Martaina said with a thin smile, “it must have gotten drowned out by the sound of your suggestive banter with the Baroness.”
Cyrus took a left turn coming down the steps in the foyer, walking to the massive double doors opposite the ones that led to the dining hall. Two guards in the livery of Galbadien soldiers opened the door, holding it for Cyrus to pass. Martaina halted outside the door, drawing up to the frame and stopping. Once within, the doors began to close behind him and Cyrus found himself in the throne room, a place he had been on only a few formal occasions since arriving at Vernadam. Once had been for a presentation ceremony in which he and the other officers of Sanctuary had been recognized for their good works, for their efforts in the battle.
It was a long chamber, the ceilings half a hundred feet high, with arches of stone and great columns to support them. The block was dark, grey, and cast a pallor in the room that even the row of stained glass windows to Cyrus’s right could not break. Light shone in from outside, but not nearly enough to counter the gloomy atmosphere. The air seemed stale to Cyrus, as though it were not moving within the chamber. Ahead of him was the King, on a raised dais a few steps off the ground.
The King’s lips were pursed, his eyes narrowed in disgust, and the small ring of courtiers that stood around him loosened as Cyrus approached the foot of the steps, creating a half-circle with the throne anchoring the center, allowing the King to look down on Cyrus with curled lips, his poorly settled skin wiggling with the motion.
“Your Majesty,” Cyrus said, dipping slightly in a bow when he reached the bottom of the steps. Looking up, he tried to discern from the courtiers’ expressions what might be going on; none of them were particularly helpful. Most looked dazed, surprised, and a few looked downright hostile. “You summoned and I answered your call. How may I be of service?”
“It should surprise you not that we have received letters of vital importance this morning through carrier pigeons,” the King said, his expression still harsh, though guarded. “The first is of some note-the Kingdom of Syloreas asks us for peace and has summoned us to a moot at the ancient citadel of Enrant Monge, the place of meeting.”
Cyrus listened and tried to decipher the unsaid message that had turned the room sour. “This is good news, is it not?”
“It is,” the King said, puckering his lips. “Though to summon us to Enrant Monge is the unlikeliest of maneuvers for Briyce Unger; there has not been a moot there in fifteen years, and he speaks of putting aside the past to face new dangers that await us all. I wonder of what he might be speaking, if it might be a Western doom.”
“Doom?” Cyrus asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps I could endeavor to explain?” Odau Genner appeared from the line of courtiers; Cyrus hadn’t even noticed the man absorbed among them. He was wearing clothing rather than armor.
“All right,” Cyrus said. “So he’s summoned you there … and you suspect a trap?”
“No,” Genner said with a smile. “You do not engage in hostilities of any kind at Enrant Monge. It is a place of peace, kept as a shrine to the days when our Kingdoms were united and all Luukessia was ruled from within its great halls. To fight at Enrant Monge is anathema, unheard of. To be summoned there by Briyce Unger is a shocking development. We expected to hear from him, but only in the form of a letter requesting terms to go back to our earlier borders.”
Cyrus shrugged. “So he’s got some other threat in mind?” There were nods from the courtiers. “Any idea what it is?”
“We are not receiving regular messengers,” Genner said. “With our army moving north and Unger’s forces still withdrawing from the keeps they’ve taken, we don’t have a clear idea of what’s going on.” He cast a look at the King. “But this is all mere courtesy, to let you know about the conclusion to the war you helped us win. The King has summoned you here for a different purpose entirely.”
Cyrus gave the King a polite nod, inwardly chafing.
“We have received another message,” Genner said, somewhat grave. “This one is also of some import.”
“I appreciate a good sense for the dramatic as much as the next person,” Cyrus said, “but would you mind just cutting to point? I’m a soldier, and we’re not renowned for our patience or craftiness with words.”
“Very well, General,” the King said. “On your way to our land from the bridge, you laid siege to the keep at Green Hill in Actaluere.”
“I did,” Cyrus said calmly. “Though it wasn’t much of a siege. It took less than an hour.” The courtiers all shuffled uncomfortably. “Is this a problem? Your son told me conquests of that sort are common, and in fairness, Baron Hoygraf provoked us by kidnapping one of our scouting parties and holding them prisoner.
“It is all well and good to storm a keep, take some plunder,” Odau Gennar said, “and young Longwell was correct, such skirmishes do happen regularly, and if not part of a sustained invasion, are generally overlooked.” He hesitated. “However …”
“However,” the King interrupted Genner’s dramatic pause, brandishing a letter, “this was not a normal
