Kal shook his head. “No way to do it, Brother. He’s Fifth Circle. Another promotion will move him to Fourth, which gains him a third wife. He talks often about that hypothetical wife—I think he’s got someone specific in mind.”
“Damned hive breeders,” grumbled Janto.
“I don’t care for them either, but the point is he’s not going to disobey orders when he wants that promotion, and you can’t blame him for putting his country’s needs first. Count the Sardossians out. I figure with the help of the Riorcans and your shroud magic, we can take one of the Mosari harbors. I can have Gishi scout for the one that’s least defended, now that the Healer has repaired his wing.”
Janto shook his head. “No point. Even if we take the harbor, we’ll lose the land battle. There are three battalions of ground troops on Mosar.”
“So many. Are you sure?” Kal’s brow wrinkled. “We can free slaves as we go and build up our forces before we engage them.”
“An untrained, disorganized force of freed civilians will have no chance against a disciplined Kjallan battalion.”
Kal snorted in exasperation. “What would you have us do, Jan? You walk in here and take command, and for what? To have us sail around aimlessly, doing nothing, while the Kjallans loot our country and exploit our people?”
“Be easy, Brother. We will take back what is ours. But we will not accomplish it by invading Mosar.”
Kal spread his hands. “How can we recover Mosar without an invasion?”
“There will be an invasion. It just won’t be on Mosar.”
“If not on Mosar, where?”
Janto smiled grimly. “Kjall.”
29
Janto stood with Kal-Torres in the middle of the deck, with the ship’s officers fanning out on either side of them, to receive the Sardossian admiral as he came over the side. Admiral Llinos was a heavy man, big in all directions, with a tousled mop of dirty blond hair and bushy eyebrows. He bowed to Janto. “King Jan-Torres. I am sorry for your loss.”
“I accept your condolences, Admiral. May I congratulate you on your victory?”
Llinos beamed. “You certainly may, though without your brother’s assistance, we’d never have caught them.” His smile faded. “Their quick retreat makes me think the attack was a feint.”
“I know for a fact that it was,” said Janto. “Shall we step over to the quarterdeck and I will explain?”
Kal had suggested holding the meeting belowdecks, in the captain’s quarters, but Janto, knowing he was more likely to get sick belowdecks, insisted on clearing the quarterdeck instead. Gesturing at Kal and two of his brother’s key officers, he led the way abaft the mainmast to the upper deck. Chairs and awnings had been installed there. He bade them sit.
Admiral Llinos spoke. “Your brother has already asked for my assistance in retaking Mosar. While I’m sympathetic to your situation, I must decline. We think it likely the Kjallans are mounting an attack on Sarpol, and I’m under orders to return there upon securing Rhaylet. We are finishing critical repairs to our ships and will depart at daylight.”
“The Kjallans
Llinos looked grim. “Then I haven’t a moment to lose.”
“You will not make it in time.”
“If sailing conditions are good—”
“You will not make it,” insisted Janto.
Llinos shrugged. “I am under orders, so I must try.”
“Is there any situation in which your proper course of action would be not to follow orders?”
“Your Majesty, I am aware that your country is in desperate need, but I cannot offer help when my own country is threatened.”
Janto scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “What if I said you could stop the attack on Sarpol completely? Avert
Llinos frowned. “Such a thing is not possible.”
“I will tell you how it can be done. I was recently on Kjall gathering intelligence. I know the Kjallans’ strengths and weaknesses. They are vulnerable right now, like a turtle rolled on its back. We’ll stop the invasion at Sarpol, and you will be a hero to your people.”
Admiral Llinos looked skeptical, but he cocked his head, ready to listen.
Janto unrolled one of Kal’s nautical maps and began to explain.
“Legatus,” Rhianne greeted her fiance as he strode into the fitting room, draped with the silk syrtos he would wear at their wedding ceremony. It was unfinished, with pins marking the locations where alterations would be made and adornments attached.
“Princess.” He looked her over briefly and turned away, allowing the tailors to converge on him.
Rhianne, by now, was also a veritable pincushion. The seamstresses had been at work on her gown for an hour already, and they weren’t close to finished. One of them gently tapped her arm, and she raised it so the seamstress could pin something beneath it.
Since agreeing to the marriage, she’d seen astonishingly little of Augustan, which worried her. Lucien had warned her that through her rebellion she was offending the man, and now that she’d finally succumbed, she was facing a very difficult marriage indeed. She had never liked her fiance, but at least when she’d first met him, there had been some pretense of friendliness between them. That was gone. But she was trying to make up ground. If the marriage was inevitable, she had to make the best of it.
“Are you looking forward to the ceremony?” she ventured.
He snorted. “Do not trouble me with your small talk. You have made
She swallowed. Perhaps she would have to make a more serious attempt. “Do you remember the Mosari cat you gave me?”
“A cat.” His voice was scornful. “I vaguely remember.”
“She turned out to be a brindlecat. Did you know?”
“A
“She has them now,” said Rhianne.
“I had no idea. Thought it was a Mosari house cat.”
A seamstress knelt at Rhianne’s feet, pinning up the hem to her gown.
“Get out,” Augustan snarled at the seamstress.
Startled, the seamstress dropped her pincushion. “Sir?”
He raised his voice. “All of you servants, get out. I want five minutes alone with my fiancee.”
The servants froze in surprise, then filed out of the room.
“Close the door behind you,” Augustan boomed. When it was closed and he and Rhianne were alone, he said more softly, “There are rumors about you.”
Nervous at this unexpected tete-a-tete, Rhianne turned away. “In the Imperial Palace, rumors abound.”
“Very specific rumors,” said Augustan. “For a long time, you were dead set against this marriage. Now, suddenly, you are all compliance and friendliness. Why? Some say a deal was struck, and it had something to do with a Mosari man in the imperial prison.”
Goose bumps pricked on Rhianne’s arms. “Who says such a thing?”
“Though it may shock you, I do have friends here,” said Augustan. “Did you dodge a treason charge, Princess?”
