Page 16 of Given

“I know what the feast is for. We train today as we do every day.” Our schedule had been interrupted enough as it was. “Threats to the kingdom don’t pause for feasts.”

“No, my lord. I mean yes, my lord. Of course. I’ll ready the men to train.” He saluted and wheeled his horse away.

I pinned my gaze on the palace, my thoughts on the meeting that had become inevitable the moment a servant handed me a note with the royal seal on it this morning.

Given stayed stiff and silent for the remainder of the ride. She made no comment as we entered the palace courtyard, and she didn’t protest when I lifted her down from the horse. My men weren’t the only ones preoccupied with the feast. The courtyard bustled with noise and people. Servants hurried to and fro, most too busy to cast more than a cursory glance at the thralls. But several did double takes when they spotted Given’s svelte form at my side. When a cook in a stained apron lingered overlong, I pinned him with the look I used on squires.

“Want me to paint a portrait for you?”

He startled and scurried away with a mumbled “m’lord.”

At last, the palace steward appeared, his long robes snapping around his ankles. He rushed up to me and bowed. “My lord. Forgive me for not meeting you right away. The kitchen has been a tempest this morning. So much dropped food I could plant a garden. We’ve already put out two fires and not the figurative kind. It’s been—”

“Tibern,” I said, interrupting what promised to be a stream of information about palace happenings I couldn’t give a shit about. I gestured to the two dozen thralls. “Our guests have traveled from the Rift, and from Beldurn before that. I’m sure they’d like to rest before the feast.” Especially since they were on the menu.

“Of course.” The steward nodded. His gaze went to Given and quickly skated away. “Of course, my lord.” He turned to the thralls. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me.”

A servant streaked across the courtyard, her gaze locked on Tibern. She skidded to a stop, dipped a hasty curtsy in my direction, and then went on tiptoe and whispered in the steward’s ear.

His eyes widened. “Another one?”

“Yes, sir,” the servant said. “Cook put it out.”

Tibern closed his eyes on a long blink. “Gods.” He shooed the servant away. “Go on. I’ll be along in a minute.” He turned back to me, his demeanor hesitant. “Ah, the king asked you to escort the princess to her chamber upon your return.”

The anger that had simmered in my veins all morning threatened to boil over. “Laurent asked me to do this?” The second the question left my mouth, I wanted to snatch it back. The courtyard was full of eyes and ears, including ones unseen.

Tibern looked like he desperately wanted to return to his kitchen fires. “Yes, my lord.”

“Which chamber?” I bit out.

He lowered his eyes and his voice. “The one next to his, my lord. The, um, queen’s old rooms.”

This wasn’t the place to show anger. It wasn’t the time to storm off, either. Not with eyes watching. So I said nothing. Let that be the tale tongues wagged.

With a nod to Tibern, I took Given’s elbow and escorted her from the courtyard. I led her through the palace and up the various staircases. Down hallways and corridors. Courtiers bowed as we passed. Curious stares followed in our wake.

My anger grew with every step.

The princess was silent as we walked this gauntlet, and when we reached the royal chambers at last, the only sounds were the thunk of my boots and the rustle of her long green skirts.

Big double doors loomed ahead. To my surprise, they opened at our approach. A slight young man in dark gray robes slipped between them. A small, round mirror dangled from a chain around his neck. He carried a leather book tucked under one arm. Behind him, the doors shut with a solid sound.

He saw us and froze.

Given gasped. I couldn’t fault her reaction. It was unusual to see a member of the Brotherhood in Nor Doru. But this one was also remarkable because of his youth. Typically, only elder members of the Brotherhood interacted with the public. The young men among their ranks were restricted to the Towers. But this boy looked fresh from his mother’s teat. His dark brown hair was curly, his cheeks plump with the last traces of baby fat. Sky-blue eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes. Gods, one night on the streets of Lar Katerin and criminals would empty his pockets and lighten his veins. What the fuck was he doing in Nor Doru? In the palace? Coming out of those doors?

I gripped the hilt of my sword. “You’re far from home, Brother. Perhaps you’re lost.”

His cheeks went pink as his gaze moved from my sword to my face. As soon as it landed there, he grew flustered and looked at my chest. “Ahh…f-forgive me, my lord.” He bowed low. “The Lord favors you, my lord.”

I could feel Given’s stare as I stayed silent.

After an uncomfortable silence, the brother straightened. He cast me a wary look and then bowed to Given. “The Lord favors you, Princess.”

She dipped her head and spoke softly. “He favors us all, Brother.”

He flashed her a grateful smile. Then he glanced at me again and sobered. “I was meeting with the king. He’s very interested in the history of Ter Isir.”

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