Spy's Honor

“We knew it was unrecoverable, so we had to cut it free . . . ,” said Llinos.

While Janto listened, increasingly impatient with the tale, Kal-Torres rose and crossed the room. He leaned casually against the table next to Rhianne, with his back to Janto, and apparently began speaking since Rhianne sat up alertly in response. Janto couldn’t hear their voices from where he sat—Llinos was loud—but he watched out of the corner of his eye. Rhianne’s back was very straight. She smiled, looking friendly but reserved. Kal picked up her hand and kissed it.

Janto tore his eyes away, fuming. Classic Kal. He’d figured out that Janto wanted this woman and was interested in her for more than political reasons, so now he was moving on her. He would steal her if he could, for no reason at all except to demonstrate that he could. Kal turned and smirked at Janto, confirming his intentions.

Llinos talked on, oblivious. “So then we had a loose cannon. You know what a disaster that is? If you don’t rope it and catch it fast, it causes all kinds of damage. . . .”

Janto nodded distractedly.

A change in the body language at the far end of the table alerted him that something had happened. Rhianne snapped angrily at Kal, who recoiled from her.

Inside, Janto exulted. If he couldn’t have her, at least Kal wouldn’t either.

The guards arrived with Lucien, a welcome distraction for all parties. Kal came forward to greet Lucien.

“And then they struck their colors,” finished Llinos. “Was it not a very fine action?”

“Very fine, indeed,” said Janto.

The guards shut the door, sealing them in. Lucien limped to his chair, haughty and scornful. He took Rhianne’s hand in a show of Kjallan solidarity. They leaned close and spoke in whispers.

Janto cleared his throat and began in diplomatic Kjallan. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll begin with introductions—”

“King Jan-Torres,” interrupted Lucien, “I object to the presence of that one.” He pointed at the Riorcan. “He is a criminal, and he sullies these proceedings. Imperial Kjall will not negotiate with him.”

“You gods-cursed tyrant,” fumed Admiral Durgan. “You are the criminal!”

“Silence, both of you!” cried Janto. “Emperor Lucien, you are in no position to dictate who sits at this table. Admiral Durgan’s men fought bravely and have earned their place here. If you cannot accept their presence, someone else will negotiate for Kjall.”

Lucien subsided, grumbling, and Janto introduced the members of each delegation. “Our time is limited, so we’ll get right to it. Our first order of business is to decide the fate of the former emperor Florian Nigellus Gavros. Bring him in, please.” He gestured to the door guards.

Four men escorted a flint-eyed Florian into the room and took up positions around him. Lucien and Rhianne, who had not seen the former emperor since before the invasion, turned and stared.

“Florian Nigellus Gavros,” Jantos began, “you have waged unprovoked war against Mosar, Riorca, and Sardos and committed numerous war crimes detailed in this list”—he held up an inked document—“including refusal to honor a Sage flag and the indiscriminate murder and enslavement of Mosari and Riorcan civilians.” He repeated the words in Sardossian. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Florian’s eyes bored into Janto. “You will die for this.”

Janto ignored that. “Admiral Llinos, has Sardos reached a decision?”

Llinos conferred with his adviser. “Yes, Your Majesty. We recommend the former emperor be exiled for life and kept under guard in Sardos or Mosar.”

Janto nodded. “Admiral Durgan, Riorca’s decision?”

“Death,” said Durgan. “Former Emperor Florian is responsible for the murder and enslavement of tens of thousands of people. Exile is too lenient. If he is not executed, how can we be certain he will not someday return to power?”

That left Janto in the role of tiebreaker. He stole a glance at Rhianne, who watched Florian, wringing her hands in anguish.

He exchanged glances with Kal, who nodded. They’d discussed the matter at length already. “Exile. While Admiral Durgan speaks with honesty and passion about the severity of Florian’s crimes, let this gesture of mercy demonstrate our willingness to forge a lasting peace. Since Mosar has been more injured than Sardos by Florian’s actions, I propose we house him on Mosar, guarded by my own men.”

“Sardos concurs,” rumbled Llinos.

Admiral Durgan said nothing. His eyes smoldered.

Janto turned to Lucien. “He will be well looked after.”

“Thank you,” said Lucien. Rhianne stared down at her lap, her shoulders shaking. She seemed to be silently crying.

He nodded at Florian’s guards. “Take him back to his room.”

“You will die for this,” said Florian over his shoulder, as the guards hauled him up and escorted him out. The door shut behind him.

“On that note,” said Janto, eliciting a chuckle from his fellows, “let’s discuss the removal of Kjallan troops from Mosar.”

As Janto had expected, Lucien, denied any further opportunity to break up the alliance and turn his enemies against one another, agreed to peacefully withdraw his troops and ships from Mosar. He was going to lose the island anyway. This way he could keep his four desperately needed ships and spin it as a strategic withdrawal instead of suffering another humiliating defeat.

Janto and Llinos then began negotiating trade agreements with Lucien, who bargained with them in good faith while denying every request from Admiral Durgan.

To Janto’s surprise, Rhianne, whom he’d expected to be a silent observer, spoke up often. Since Florian had never involved her in matters of state, her knowledge was limited. She was careful not to display her ignorance, but she intervened when discussions became too heated. She had a knack for smoothing ruffled egos and speaking sense in simple terms that couldn’t be denied. It made Janto desire her all the more, not just as a lover, but as a diplomatic asset for Mosar. Three gods, Florian, you’ve wasted this woman.

However, Rhianne never spoke up for the Riorcans. Janto understood her reasons. Lucien would not survive as emperor if he appeared weak. To give the impression of strength after Kjall’s crushing losses, Lucien had to take a hard line somewhere, and Riorca, the only country accessible to him by land, was his unlucky target. Admiral Durgan grew furious as the negotiations proceeded, and Janto felt bad for Riorca, but there wasn’t much he could do.

By suppertime, they’d hashed out most of the important points. The delegations were growing tired and irritable, so he dismissed the group until morning.

The next day, when they reconvened, they worked out some sticky points regarding the use of the Kjallan- controlled Neruna Strait. After that, Janto proposed some changes in the treatment of Riorcan slaves, which Lucien firmly shot down. Admiral Durgan barely paid attention. He seemed to view the negotiations as a farce.

“Are we finished?” Janto turned to his clerk. “Cialo, when will you have a document ready for signing?”

Cialo lifted his head from the paper. “Very soon, sire. I’m copying the final passages.”

“There is one more matter to discuss,” said Admiral Llinos.

“Speak,” said Janto.

Llinos turned to Lucien and Rhianne. “Kjall has long been an insular nation, rarely if ever marrying its women outside its own borders.”

Rhianne’s eyes narrowed. Lucien took her hand protectively and glared at Llinos.

“My delegation believes, as does the Mosari delegation, that this practice contributes to Kjall’s culture of war, and that if the Imperial Princess Rhianne were to marry outside the empire, that gesture would further peace among our nations.”

“Admiral Llinos, you are out of line,” said Lucien. “It is not your business whom the princess marries.”

“With respect, Emperor, you do not have a vote at this council,” said Llinos. “Now, the Sardossian First Heir has expressed a desire to wed the Kjallan Imperial Princess—”

“The First Heir has fourteen wives already,” said Lucien. “It is an insult to suggest that the Kjallan Imperial