the night before the war with Dusaan. She could still feel the warmth of his hand holding hers. And she could still hear his question, so deserving of an answer, so difficult to address.
What about the king?
Indeed.
She heard footsteps on the stone path behind her and she turned, half expecting to see the minister. Instead it was Gershon Trasker.
“Am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all, swordmaster. Is there something you need?”
“I just thought you should know: the king has decided that we’re to leave tomorrow morning.”
Why did that make her so afraid? “All right. Thank you.”
She thought he would go, but he didn’t. He glanced about, looking at the flowers as he might a collection of daggers or battle shields. Keziah couldn’t remember ever seeing Gershon in the gardens of Audun’s Castle, or Glyndwr for that matter.
“Have your injuries healed?” he finally asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. And my men are treating you better?”
Keziah had to smile. “Yes, they are. Thank you for that, as well.”
“It’s the least you deserve, given all that you’ve done for us.”
“I did it for myself, swordmaster. You speak as though I did the Eandi a favor. That wasn’t it at all. I was trying to protect my king, my realm, and my people. I was trying to save myself.” She looked away. “Besides,” she went on, trying to soften what she had said, “I’m not certain that what I did mattered in the end.”
“Of course it did.”
“The Weaver very nearly defeated us, despite my efforts. And I had little to do with our victory. That was Grinsa, and a woman in the Weaver’s army who turned against him at the end. We don’t even know her name.”
“You showed courage and loyalty. You helped us kill the three traitors from Sanbira. They might well have tipped the balance in the Weaver’s favor before the end.”
There was no point in arguing the matter. Gershon was showing her as much kindness as he ever had. Best just to accept his praise and be grateful.
“Again, swordmaster, thank you. Had it not been for you, I never would have made it through these past several turns.”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed, as he always did when she paid him compliments. “Well, maybe you’ll show your gratitude by not making yourself such a nuisance all the time.”
Keziah laughed, though abruptly her chest was aching. She stepped quickly to where he stood, kissed his cheek, and ran from the gardens, knowing at last what she had to do.
By the time she reached the king’s chamber, her heart was pounding, her courage failing her. Resisting an urge to flee, she knocked on his door.
“Enter!” came the reply.
She pushed the door open and walked in. To her relief, he was alone, save for a young servant.
Kearney was sitting at a small writing table, but seeing her, he quickly stood. “Ke-” He glanced at the boy. “Archminister.”
“Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Majesty.” She realized that she was wringing her hands, and she allowed them to fall to her sides.
“Not at all. Is something troubling you?”
She hesitated, her eyes welling.
“Please leave us,” he said to the servant.
The boy let himself out of the chamber.
He crossed to where she was standing and took her hands. “Now, what’s happened?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but began to cry instead.
“What is it, Kez?”
She was trembling, her legs shaking so badly that she had to tighten her grip on his hands just to keep from collapsing to the floor.
“Kez?” he said, sounding truly afraid.
“I can’t go back with you,” she blurted out.
He blinked. “What?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
He released her hands and took a step back. “Do what?” he asked.
But he already knew. She read it in those grey eyes. Strangely, seeing such hurt in them now emboldened her, convincing her that she was doing the right thing. Finally. She wiped her tears away.
“There was a time when I loved you more than anything in the world,” she told him. “In a way, I always will love you. But we can never be together again, and so long as I remain in your court, I’ll never be able to love another.”
“All the more reason to keep you as my archminister.” He smiled halfheartedly, then looked away, shaking his head. “That was meant as a joke. I suppose it wasn’t very funny.”
“I’d ask you to release me from your service, Your Majesty. I think it’s best for both of us.”
“Do you love another, Kez?”
“I’m not certain.”
He frowned. “You’re not certain?”
“It’s possible that I do, yes. But that’s not the reason I want to leave your court, at least not entirely. I see the way you look at me. It’s only a matter of time before others notice as well.”
“I look at you that way because I love you.”
“I know. And that’s why I have to leave you.”
“Where will you go?”
“Actually, I was going to ask Lord Curgh if I might serve in his court.”
Comprehension lit his face, and for a moment she feared that he would grow angry. But he merely smiled. “I hope you’ll be very happy here. If Tavis is as wise as I think he is, he’ll soon find himself being served by the two finest ministers in Eibithar.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He stepped forward and put his arms around her, kissing her brow. “I’ll miss you, Kez,” he whispered.
“And I you.”
He held her a moment longer, then stepped back. “I hereby release you from service in the court of Audun’s Castle. May you find happiness on whatever path you choose.”
She smiled, tears on her cheeks once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said softly, and left him.
She hurried through the castle corridors, nearly breaking into a run. Coming at last to Tavis’s presence chamber, she knocked and let herself in at the duke’s summons.
Fotir was with him. Of course.
“Archminister,” Tavis said. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually, my lord, I no longer go by that title.”
The two men shared a glance.
“What do you mean?” the young duke asked.
“I’ve left the king’s court. I asked him to release me from his service, and he kindly granted my request.”
Fotir shook his head. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“I was wondering, my lord,” she went on, ignoring him for the moment, “if you might have use for another minister in your court.”
Tavis’s eyes widened. “My court?”
“Yes.”
“I … I have first and second ministers already. Curgh’s wealth is substantial, but I can hardly afford-”
“You wouldn’t have to pay me much.”
