Page 13 of King's Warrior

She relaxed, idly picking at a fold in her skirt with her fingers. “Good. I don’t have to ask Casseign to throw you from a window. Did you confront the ones who did that to him?” Her concern suggested Yarif might have told the truth about knowing the Delletinian king.

“They’re dead.”

“Did you kill them?” The words held no accusation.

The blood on Rufe’s clothes wouldn’t let him lie. “Several, though I didn’t have the privilege of killing their leader.”

“But you killed some. So, you’re useful in a fight. Tell me, Rufe, why did you and your companion come to rescue Yarif? Couldn’t you have sent others?” Her calling the king consort “Yarif” spoke of a personal relationship or a lack of manners. This healer comported herself with all the grace of a queen, so, personal relationship then.

“We trusted no one else.” The less Rufe said, the better. “Where are… the others? How… how are they?”

“I stitched the injury on the big one and have treated Yarif’s wounds as best I could. It’s up to them now and the goddess to prevent infection. Though your actions didn't betray your injuredstate, you suffered several wounds, resulting in significant blood loss. You've been asleep for quite some time.”

He’d been through worse. “Can I see my companions?”

“Not yet. They’re resting. You understand that you’re from an unfriendly kingdom, don’t you? We need each of you to tell us why you’re here in your own words before we decide what to do with you.”

She looked too kind to be a kidnapper, but Rufe had known noblewomen who’d killed their own husbands. Until Nera proved otherwise, Rufe would play his hand with caution. “No one will pay a ransom.”

Nera’s face hardened. “We are not barbarians to hold people for ransom.”

Rufe flushed. Sometimes, he guessed wrong. “Apologies, madam. My life leads me to think the worst of people.”

She nodded to the tattoo on Rufe’s hand, which he promptly hid beneath the covers. “I can see the evidence of your own people mistreating you; scars speak of your time as a warrior. We Delletinians behave in a civilized fashion, for the most part.” She poured herself a cup of wine from the same carafe Casseign had served Rufe from, so likely not poisoned. “Because Casseign doesn't speak your language, I want you to tell me exactly what happened from Yarif's kidnapping until Casseign found you. I’ll translate.”

Rufe took another sip of wine and lay back on the bed. How much should he tell? Had anyone yet realized that Rufe’s “companion” was King Draylon Aravaid of Renvalle, son of the hated Emperor Soland, and that Yarif was Draylon’s consort?

“The kidnapper’s name is… was Illa Trandores.” Rufe waited while Nera translated.

“We know of her,” Nera said, with a barely perceptible sneer, quickly schooled away. “Her family was Delletinian, though disgraced. They fled the kingdom.”

These people didn’t like Illa either. Perhaps a shared enemy would make them allies, or at least unite them against a common foe. “She kidnapped Yarif and brought him here, we think, to start a war with Renvalle.”

“Renvalle?” Nera’s blank facial expression gave nothing away. “Why?”

The news might not travel fast in these remote mountains. “The emperor accused Yarif’s father of conspiring with Delletina to murder him and break free of the empire. King Lleval paid the price, along with Yarif’s older brother.”

Nera made a gesture over her heart, which Rufe construed as an appeasement to a god or goddess. “Neither were fit to rule. Wouldn’t that make Yarif king?”

Rufe tried to keep his sigh inaudible. If indeed this woman knew Yarif, this next part might offend her. “Emperor Soland named another king, and Yarif became king consort.”

Nera remained outwardly calm, twisting her fingers in her lap, the only sign of irritation. “Did Yarif’s husband plan the abduction?”

What? “No! He was frantic about getting Yarif back. Despite the odds, I believe the two care about each other and realize they’re stronger together than they are apart. That’s why he….” Niam bit down on the words he’d nearly failed to prevent. Maybe there were drugs in the wine to cause him to speak so freely. Why was he telling all this to a stranger?

Nera spoke to Casseign briefly before turning her attention back to Rufe. “Why he what?”

No use lying now. “Why he wanted Yarif back.”

Nera barked out a laugh. “My dear Rufe, surely you don’t believe I don’t know your companion is Draylon Aravaid, apparently king of Renvalle now.”

Rufe closed his eyes, heaving out a sigh. “How do you know?” After all, she was only a healer for all her claims of travel, a privilege generally reserved for the wealthy.

“Although I trained as a healer in my youth, I am nobly born.” Her words held a teasing lilt.

“I beg your pardon, My Lady. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Rufe’s mother would box his ears if she knew of the slight.

The warmth of Nera’s smile eased Rufe’s embarrassment. “Think nothing of it. How were you to know I am Her Royal Majesty Queen Mother Nera of Delletina?” She winked. “Yes, the herbs in the wine loosen my tongue as surely as yours.”

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