how did things come to happen?”
Fortunately, her stumbling tongue did not seem to offend him.
“You know Princess Marathi was Raumesys’s second wife,” Sicarius said.
Amaranthe nodded. “His first wife, Alta, died of influenza.” She had been a toddler then, but it was well- known history.
“The first was killed because she didn’t produce an heir.”
“Ah? That’s not what the record books say.” An uneasy thought occurred to her. “Did you do it?”
“Raumesys did it himself. He married Marathi a week later. A year passed and she had not conceived either.”
“I’m guessing it was Old Raumesys’s rifle that wasn’t fully loaded. Poor Alta. Murdered because her husband was impotent. So, Marathi made some assumptions and figured Raumesys was the problem. To avoid Alta’s fate, she decided to get herself impregnated by someone else and let Raumesys think it was his doing.”
“Yes.”
“And she picked you.” Amaranthe nodded. While his training no doubt accounted for much of his martial prowess, a great deal of that skill had to be natural aptitude, something that ought to be passed along to children. Thinking of the way he had flawlessly drawn copies of ranmyas for her counterfeiting scheme, she had little doubt he would be good at any endeavor that relied on speed, dexterity, or coordination, all traits admired in the empire. Strange that Sespian’s interests did not lie along martial lines. Or perhaps not. Maybe Marathi had worked hard to make sure she did not raise a killer. “She had iron guts. Risking death if Raumesys found out. And approaching you. I can’t imagine…” Amaranthe couldn’t even tell Sicarius she had feelings for him. She certainly could not see herself brave enough to show up at his door to seduce him. “Or were you more cuddly and approachable as a teenager?”
His eyebrow twitched at the word cuddly. “No.”
“That was gutsy of you too. Sleeping with the emperor’s wife-that had to be a death sentence if you were caught. And you admitted you were inculcated to obey Raumesys. You certainly seem to have killed everyone he and Hollowcrest asked you to.” She winced. That had come out more accusing than she intended.
“Fifteen-year-old boys don’t do much thinking when pretty women show up at their doors.”
Fifteen? He had been young.
Sicarius stood and retrieved a canteen. “Also, I was recovering from punishment that nearly killed me. I wasn’t kindly inclined toward Raumesys at the time.” He took a swig of water, and she wondered if the conversation was making him wish he had something stronger. Not that she had ever seen him drink anything alcoholic.
“Punishment for what?” she asked.
“Failure.” His clipped tone did not invite further inquiry.
“At least it was an opportunity for you to…know something you might not have otherwise. Did you get to spend any time with him as a boy?”
“That would have been suspicious.” He screwed the cap back on the canteen.
“Surely, with your ability to be stealthy, you could have sneaked in for a moment here or there.”
Sicarius turned his back to her and set the canteen on the table. “Marathi did not want me around. And my presence scared Sespian.”
Of course. After seeing Sicarius deliver a pile of severed heads, Sespian must have been terrified of him. A son, yes, but one he could only watch from afar. And one who grew up fearing and hating him.
“Go to sleep,” Sicarius said. “I’ll take first watch tonight.”
The wind still howled outside, and thunder rumbled from time to time. She doubted anyone would intrude on them that night, but he was a stickler for running a watch, and she did not want to argue with him. She padded over to the bed.
“Sicarius?”
“Yes?” His eyes were hooded, wary.
Amaranthe wanted to tell him she was sorry his life had been chosen for him from his first day and that he never seemed to have known happiness. She wanted to tell him she never would have told him to stay away from his son. And she wanted to tell him she loved him.
“Good night,” she said.
Coward.
CHAPTER 15
G oing down the mountain should have been easier than climbing up it, but Sicarius set a pace that would have tired a steam tramper. At least the storm had passed. Overhead, budding branches created a latticework framing a blue sky.
While admiring that sky, Amaranthe slipped on a wet, mossy stone. The barrel of her rifle caught on a tree and the butt jabbed her in the ribs. She winced at her klutziness. “Any reason we’re in such a hurry?”
“You find this pace taxing?” There was a hint of something in his tone-like maybe he intended to practice that teasing she had offered to receive.
“No.” Teasing aside, she suspected he would read any admission of weakness as a request for extra training. “It’s just that a more leisurely pace would let me think about everything. I meant to cogitate more last night, but I fell asleep as soon as my head touched that stiff, straw-stuffed object Hagcrest placed in the pillow position.” It was probably good she had fallen asleep before she could dwell overmuch on the fact she was sleeping in a dead man’s bed.
“We left Akstyr and Basilard alone with our lorry and more money than they’ve likely seen in their lives,” Sicarius said.
“You think they’d steal everything? And strand us?”
“Many would.”
“They’re better men than that.”
Sicarius gave her a long look over his shoulder. Most people would have tripped over a root if they lifted their eyes from the trail that long, but no mischievous tree protuberances dared tangle his toes.
“You trust too easily,” he said.
“Even if they aren’t better men than that, they’d be afraid to cross you. Fear motivates people into good behavior.” Though it was not a tactic she preferred to use, she understood its effectiveness.
“We’ll see.”
The rush of the river grew audible. Amaranthe’s stomach grumbled in anticipation of boiling water for tea and having a meal. Sicarius had pushed her to leave before eating.
“I hope Basilard has breakfast waiting.” She sniffed the air, hoping to catch a whiff of eggs cooking. “It’s amazing what he finds in the forest when he goes foraging. I wouldn’t have a clue about what’s edible and what’s not. He’s a good man. I have faith in him.”
Sicarius glanced back. She expected a comment about how hard it was to monitor their surroundings with her prattling, or perhaps a suggestion that she should be trying to figure out the greater puzzle they were involved with. Instead, he said, “I can forage.”
She almost laughed. Maybe her praise for Basilard had made him envious? “Oh? I’ve not seen you do it.”
“It’s not the right season. Summer and fall.”
“What about those tuberous things Basilard found by the side of the road the other night? And mixed with the sausages? They were good. Nice crunch.”
The next glance Sicarius leveled her direction was more of a glare. She decided not to push his humor with further teasing.
The frothing river water grew visible through the trees. The suspension bridge came into sight, and, on the far side, the lorry waited where they left it. Amaranthe resisted the urge to throw a triumphant, “I told you so,” at Sicarius. Team leaders were probably supposed to be more mature than that.
