Päl nodded as the two trudged up the hill and through the gardens to the estate. Another pawn for the board. And yet, as they walked, Päl didn’t know where that thought had come from.
• • •
Khim’s ire eased as she helped him get dressed. Layering on bit after bit of his dress uniform became almost a game between them, and Päl believed they might not make it to the party.
Khim left first, answering a summons from the Baroness. Päl finished the final touches and checked himself in the mirror. He looked presentable enough, an officer of House Davion.
Päl moved to the bed where his knives and their sheaths lay. He yearned to put them on, but did not want to anger Khim. If she saw them or suspected he wore them at a social event, his nights afterward could be…uncomfortable.
With a sigh, he wrapped them in their case of black velvet and placed them within the drawer of his nightstand.
The murmur of voices and laughter filtered up from the downstairs to the family’s apartments. Päl left the suite and walked to the stairs.
A movement to his right stopped him at the first step. A figure in dark clothing stood near the door to his father’s private study. The figure turned and froze when he saw Päl, then moved away from him and down the opposing hall. Päl chased after the man. He didn’t know if the dark-clad figure belonged in the estates or if he was an intruder.
Although, guests usually didn’t run away.
He rounded the corner of his father’s study to face an empty corridor. The intruder had vanished.
Päl concentrated on the hallway, and pushed aside the ambient noise from the party below. He calmed his breathing and sought out each nearby sound.
A door opened behind him. Päl dodged back behind the bend in the hallway. He peered around the corner to see several courtly dignitaries, family and close friends, file into his father’s study.Curious, the Baron’s son tiptoed back down the hall to the side door he’d discovered as a child. It was hidden deep within the ornate decoration of the wall. He had found it once while following the Baroness about the halls. His mother had used the small door several times—yet its existence had never made him wonder why.
Until now.
Dust tickled his nose as he eased in, careful not to allow his sword to clang against the floor or walls. Gray smudged his white dress-gloves and he brushed them on his pants. There was only a bench and when he sat, the walls pressed in on his knees and back. His dress sword made stealth difficult, but he managed to sit and look out through the room’s peephole.
The study was filled with more than ten stately dressed men. Several women stood to the side, among them his mother the Baroness. The Baron stood at his desk and raised a hand. Quiet descended.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the new Duke’s plan to pull troops from Combine space and move against Katrina in support of Victor.”
Some of those in the audience nodded, others looked about with shocked faces.
The Baron nodded. “You that are gathered here are the few remaining that still support Duke James Sandoval’s belief that the Draconis Combine is the enemy, not our sovereign. Word was given to me this morning by a reliable source that House Kurita will move against the Federated Suns. They will not accept the new Duke’s offer of an accord, but will be swift in their revenge of our attacks on their worlds.”
Päl frowned. What was his father talking about? That wasn’t what was discussed in the meeting he’d attended that morning. Tancred had seemed confident that Theodore Kurita would agree to the terms set for a cease-fire. Päl had always believed the Duke’s son a viable leader, not easily taken by rumor and innuendo.
Where had his father gleaned this information?
“Marquin,” a man in a blue brocade coat raised his hand. “Are you saying we’re all in danger?”
“I’m saying that the new Duke is making us vulnerable by pulling our troops away from the border.” He shook his head. “I stand here before you to give warning. I myself fear for my family’s safety. My own son participated in those attacks on House Kurita. My own family is at risk.”
“They wouldn’t dare!”
Päl didn’t see who had spoken out. His own thoughts wrapped around what his father said. This is ridiculous—there had been no mention of any possible attacks of retribution.
“I’m afraid they might, Peter,” the Baron put his hands on his desk, palms down, and leaned toward his audience for emphasis. “Tancred isn’t thinking—he’s too caught up in his friendship with Victor to see the truth. The Combine cannot be trusted. It will take a new assault on a Davion world by the Combine to prove we are right. I pray it doesn’t come to that…”
The Baroness moved then, her eyes narrowed in his direction. Had he made a noise?
Once outside the hidden room, Päl straightened his uniform’s vest and adjusted his sword as he turned back down the hall toward the grand staircase.
The Baroness Magarette Wyndham-Sandoval stood at the hall’s end, her hands clasped together before her. Her face was composed and belied only a small amount of surprise. “Päl?”
“Mother,” he increased his step, his heels clicking against the tiled floor.
“What were you doing back there?”
He furrowed his brow. “I thought I saw an intruder, earlier. I had been on my way downstairs to join Khim when I saw him.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid he got away.”
“An intruder?” Her expression changed little, but he did see her gaze flick downward, to his sword.
Päl glanced down at the dirt-smudged glove he rested on the sword’s hilt.
He looked up at his mother. She gave
