Spy's Honor

to that location? He headed into the north dome with that goal in mind.

23

Lucien Florian Nigellus, heir to the Kjallan throne, tugged an ear as he studied the Caturanga board. Should he make a bid for the Soldier? Or was it time to put his Traitor into play? He raised his eyes to the young man sitting across from him in case his opponent’s facial expression might offer him any clues. Trenian was a student he’d discovered at the palaestra, where young officers-to-be were trained. At the end of the season, Trenian would earn his officer mark, and when that happened, he’d be transferred to a distant battalion, but Lucien intended to keep an eye on him from afar. He admired sharp minds, and this boy was one of the most promising Caturanga players he’d met. At the moment, Trenian looked absolutely guileless, which meant he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

Lucien moved the Traitor.

The door that led to his rooms groaned on its hinges.

“Gods curse it,” he muttered, studying the altered board as he awaited Trenian’s move. The boy was setting a trap for him, somewhere. But where? He called to his door guard, “Can it wait, Hiberus?” When there was no answer, he glanced up. Florian was striding into the room.

A bolt of fear shot through him. He seized his crutch, pushed back his chair, and stood. Trenian rose awkwardly, aware that he should not embarrass the higher-ranking Lucien by standing faster and more smoothly, but not wanting to appear disrespectful to the emperor.

It was clear from the length of Florian’s stride and the tightness of his jaw that the emperor was angry about something. Lucien swallowed nervously. What had he done this time? He never tried to upset Florian. Indeed, he’d done his best to stay on the man’s good side. “Father.” He inclined his head as the emperor approached.

But Florian just kept coming. He strode to the small rosewood table upon which sat the Caturanga board, tucked his hands underneath it, and upended it, using his magically enhanced strength to fling table, board, and pieces across the room. “This. Useless. Game!” he shouted.

The board landed askew and broke. Pieces rolled along the wooden floor and under chairs and tables. Trenian stood frozen, horrified.

Lucien met the youngster’s eyes. “You’re dismissed,” he said. “Go.”

Trenian left the room as swiftly as he could without breaking into a run.

Florian advanced on Lucien.

Lucien took a step backward. “Is something wrong?”

Florian answered with a blow across Lucien’s face that might have broken his jaw if his war magic had not signaled him to turn his head. Still the impact knocked him backward and off balance. He staggered.

“Oh, stand up,” said Florian. “Sapskull.”

Lucien set his peg leg and crutch firmly on the floor and recovered his balance. He worked his jaw, blinking rapidly. When Florian hit him, some childish part of him always wanted to cry. It was embarrassing and stupid, and he was never going to let that part of him have its way. Another part of him quivered with the furious desire to strike back, but that was an urge he absolutely had to suppress. No one attacked the emperor and survived.

“Rhianne is missing,” said Florian.

Despite his still-rattling head, those words shocked him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I’ve said. She’s run away.”

Lucien lifted his eyes to Florian’s, perplexed. Hadn’t he placed Legaciatti in front of the hypocaust exit just to prevent that from happening? “How did she get out?”

“It appears there was a trapdoor in her room leading to the hypocaust,” said Florian. “But you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

Lucien steeled himself for another blow. How was he to answer such a question?

“You must have known,” continued Florian, carefully enunciating each word, “because you placed Legaciatti in front of the hypocaust exit.”

“I was trying to stop her from getting out.”

“You failed, because she got out anyway!” cried Florian.

“I’m sorry,” said Lucien. “But I did my best to prevent that from happening.”

“You didn’t think to tell me about the trapdoor? I’d have sealed it up, put her in another room entirely—found some solution better than a couple of guards.”

Lucien shook his head ruefully. “The trapdoor was something she used as a child. You were so angry with her already. I didn’t want her to be in even more trouble. But how did she get past the Legaciatti?”

“We’re going to find out,” said Florian. “But right now I’m more concerned with you. How do you feel about facing a treason charge?”

Lucien gulped. “I tried to stop her from getting out!”

Florian frowned. “I don’t care what you intended with your foolishness. You withheld information that led to her escape. However”—he held up a hand to forestall Lucien’s protest—“I came here to grant you the opportunity to demonstrate your loyalty.”

Lucien’s neck prickled. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this. “And how may I do that?”

“You will find your cousin,” said Florian. “Some of your colleagues in the north, when you were in charge of White Eagle battalion, said you were a savvy tactician. Prove it. Use your best tactics and find Rhianne.”

“Battlefield tactics and locating a runaway aren’t the same thing.” Lucien’s mind raced. What if he tried his best and couldn’t find her? She was smart, and Florian hadn’t told him how much head start she had. Would he face a treason charge if he didn’t succeed? He supposed deliberately failing at the task wasn’t an option.

Florian’s brows rose. “Are you making excuses?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Have you considered that maybe you should just let her go? She’s ungrateful and unreliable. Let her suffer on her own.” He couldn’t resist the opportunity to perhaps save his cousin from the fate the emperor intended for her.

Florian’s brow arched upward. “Let her go?” He spoke the words as if they had a funny taste.

“Well . . . yes. For her to take a step this desperate, she must really hate the idea of this marriage. She’ll never cooperate.”

“I handpicked him for her,” said Florian.

“She seems to disagree with your choice,” Lucien murmured, discouraged.

Florian folded his arms, frowning. “Are you quite finished?”

Flinching from the contempt in his father’s eyes, Lucien nodded.

“You speak as if I had a stable of imperial princesses to choose from and could simply swap another into Rhianne’s place,” said Florian. “I have only Rhianne and Celeste, and Celeste isn’t of marriageable age. Rhianne will marry Augustan. And you will find her for me. Unless you’d prefer to face a treason charge for abetting her escape.”

Lucien dropped his eyes to the floor. It appeared he had no choice but to drag his cousin back to this hated marriage, if he could possibly manage it. She’d never forgive him. “I’ll find her.”

* * *

Lucien stepped into the war room, followed by his father. He’d been here many times, but never in an advisory capacity. Always he’d been told to keep his head down and his mouth shut. For the first time, he would actually be dictating tactics. Too bad the circumstances were so unfortunate.

Officers and their lackeys crowded the room, some grouped together and speaking in low voices, others poring over a map spread on a marble table. There was something ironic about seeing all these men putting their heads together to work out a strategy not for winning a war but for capturing a runaway princess.

“Men,” said Florian, “I want you to give Lucien your full attention. He knows Rhianne better than anyone, and I’m putting him in charge.”

Some of the officers eyed Lucien sidelong as he limped to the table. “What have you got so far?” he asked. “She escaped through the hypocaust. What else do we know?”