Page 53 of King's Warrior

Niam struck a flint, lighting a lantern tucked inside a narrow cave. “The first part is low, so you’ll need to duck.”

“Your Majesty,” Casseign said, walking a fine line between respect and rebuke. “You don’t know what you’ll find. I should go first.”

Niam released a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He handed over the lantern.

Casseign drew his sword, hunched, and wriggled his way through the entrance, followed by Niam and Vihaan, who also drew his sword.

Rufe armed himself with a dagger better suited to tight quarters and followed, hurrying to catch the light.

“Why are we going this way?” Shouldn’t a king come in through the front gate?

“In times of trouble,” Niam said, “the royal family uses alternate entrances. The soldiers who rode ahead of us would have made preparations.”

“What if one of those soldiers is a traitor?”

Even in the dimness, Rufe made out Niam’s smile when he turned to look back over his shoulder. “That’s why I won’t be coming in the way I said.”

Conniving and safe. Rufe liked this plan. The cave opened enough for them to stand and walk two abreast. Rufe still clung to his dagger instead of his sword. The cave branched off.

“To the left,” Niam instructed, followed by more lefts and a few rights upward before they came to narrow stone steps carved out of the mountain itself.

Only their footprints marred the dust, a good sign. Still, Rufe prepared for an ambush.

The stairs veered to the left again, but Niam stopped. “I’d best go first, Casseign.”

“But, Sire…”

Niam pressed against a section of wall, which swung out. “Good evening, Mother.”

Nera stood in what appeared to be a sewing room, her heart-shaped face surrounded by copper curls shot through with gray. She dropped her sewing and rushed to Niam, enfolding himinto her arms briefly, then stepping back, giving him a critical once-over. “No need for such theatrics. Although Whreyn has been sniffing around, all in the castle is secure.”

Rufe didn’t miss the dagger she wore tucked into a small sheath on her waistband.

“Welcome, Commander Rufe. I’m so glad to see you again, and you too, Captain Casseign.” Nera smiled in genuine pleasure until eyeing Vihaan, who’d hung back.

Niam gestured Vihaan forward with a wave of his hand. “Mother, this is Vihaan, former commander of the Glendoran troops, now an advisor to His Imperial Majesty Avestan Aravaid. Commander Vihaan, Queen Mother Nera Fjell.”

Before Vihaan could take her hand, Nera spun, leading them farther into the room. Maybe joining hands in greeting wasn’t the custom here. “Come in. I received your message. Although some of the main party has already arrived, loyal guards posing as the four of you will enter the gates after dark. If anyone planned an ambush, it would be then, but the deception also keeps your true arrival secret. You see, Niam, you’re not the only family member prone to theatrics.” She motioned with her hand. “Follow me.”

Nera led them down the hall and into what appeared to be a sitting room with two settees, four heavily padded chairs, and several small tables laden with tea cups, wine goblets, carafes, and plates of pastries, bread, sliced meat, and cheeses. “We’ll serve a formal dinner tomorrow evening, but we couldn’t exactly plan anything while you weren’t actually here. However, meetings are scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

Nera poured them each a cup of tea and sat on a chair, back straight. The men sat as well, Vihaan and Cass on one settee, Rufe and Niam on the other. Rufe helped himself to a plate of chicken, bread, and cheese. He nearly moaned to be off the mule and eating something other than travel rations.

Niam served himself a smaller portion. “What has happened in my absence?” Even unshaven and covered in road grime, there was no mistaking him for anything other than royalty.

“Rumors are circling like vultures about a proposed alliance with the empire.” Nera took a sip of tea. “And also a betrothal between you and Whreyn’s niece, Olivia.”

Betrothal? Had Niam chosen a queen consort?

Niam stiffened, casting a nervous glance Rufe’s way. “I hope you corrected their misguided assumptions, Mother.”

Nera merely sipped her tea, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “I let them talk, for how will I learn anything if I don’t?”

Niam slapped a hand over his face. “Mother, you’re not encouraging the gossips, are you?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, as smug as Rufe had ever seen her, though he’d only known her a few weeks at the keep the family used as a retreat from court life. “I’m old enough to know rushed marriages usually have a reason, and Whreyn is pushing for the wedding to take place at the first opportunity.”

Rufe didn’t really know Olivia, yet already didn’t like her, especially if she was complicit in her uncle’s manipulations. She likely wouldn’t object much to becoming Delletina’s queen consort.

---