Crows take it. She was a grown woman. It was entirely unfair that simply thinking of Bernard should reduce her to a starry-eyed schoolgirl like that.
Amara cleared her throat, took her notebook from the cabinet built into the base of the seat, and proceeded to change the subject. "Very well, sire. We should arrive back in the capital sometime early tomorrow morning. The reports from High Lord Antillus should be waiting for you when you arrive, and the final movement orders for the Rhodesian Legions should be in effect by then which-"
The coach swept into heavy cloud cover, and she paused to murmur a fury-lamp to life.
"Countess," Gaius said gently, before she could. The First Lord reached out and folded the notebook shut, setting it aside. "Come with me, please."
Amara blinked at him.
Without preamble, Gaius turned and opened the door of the coach. Wind howled in a sudden scream, whipping their clothing about, and the coach slewed slightly to one side as the sudden drag made the coach's progress uneven.
The First Lord stepped out into empty air, lifting away from the coach so smoothly that he might have been moving out onto solid ground.
Amara lifted her eyebrows, but followed him, summoning Cirrus to support her as she left the confines of the coach for the cold, clinging, dark grey dampness of the heavy clouds. They kept pace with the coach for a moment, and Gaius exchanged a nod with the leader of the accompanying Knights Aeris. Then he slowed pace, and within seconds the air coach vanished into the clouds, leaving Gaius and Amara hovering alone in featureless grey.
Gaius flicked a hand through the air, and the roar of wind suddenly vanished. For a second, Amara expected her windstream to collapse and send her plummeting toward the ground, but Cirrus's support remained steady. Her hair still whipped around her head, as it always did, especially in a hover-only the sound vanished, dying to nothing more than the sigh of a quiet breeze. Around them, Amara could hear the distant grumble of thunder, as somewhere, miles away, a spring storm gathered in the cloud cover.
"Sire," she said, confused. "The coach."
Gaius shook his head. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before, Amara, but secrecy was absolutely imperative. No one can know where we're going, when we left-nothing."
She frowned and folded her arms against the ongoing winds. She wasn't wearing her flying leathers, and she was surprised at how quickly a chill began settling into her skin.
"I take it we're not returning to the capital," she said quietly.
"No," Gaius said.
She nodded. "Why am I here?"
"I need someone I trust to come with me."
"Where, sire?" Amara asked.
"Kalare," Gaius said quietly.
Amara felt her eyes widen. "Why there?"
His voice stayed quiet and steady. "Because I've been sitting in the capital playing diplomat for too long, Amara, and this chaos"-he gestured with a hand, taking in the entirety of the Realm beneath them-"is the result. Allies and enemies alike have forgotten who I am. What I am. I can't allow that to go on any longer."
Lightning flickered somewhere in the distant clouds, sending a flood of silver light through the swirling mists behind the First Lord.
"I'm going to remind them, Cursor." His eyes hardened. "I'm going to war. And you're going with me."
Chapter 5
Isana made sure her hood was well up, and was grateful for the unusually sharp chill that lingered in the springtime morning air. It gave her an unquestionable justification to have her hood around her face. She wasn't trying to avoid being seen visiting Captain Rufus Scipio, precisely, since the director of the relief column would quite naturally need to speak to someone on the First Aleran's staff. But Tavi felt it was better if she went unrecognized and attracted no notice-or questions-at all, and she heartily supported his caution.
As promised, Araris was waiting at the front doors and escorted her past the two legionares on sentry duty there.
"Good morning," she murmured, as he led her into the building. It was an almost ridiculously overfortified structure, all of the same battlecrafted stone that was generally used only for fortified walls. The halls were more narrow than most, the ceilings lower, and Isana noted with surprise that at the first staircase, Araris led her down, not up, to where a leader's quarters were typically located.
"Good morning," he replied. His posture and voice were both politely formal, but she could sense the warmth that lay beneath them, radiating out from him like heat from a banked fire. She was certain that he knew she could discern his actual emotions, as well, and the sense of sudden satisfaction in that unspoken trust was a pleasant little thrill, something akin to feeling his fingers intertwine with hers. "We go down two flights to get to his office."
"Did the Senator displace him?" Isana asked.
Araris shook his head. "The Canim's sorcery evidently proved quite dangerous. Some kind of lightning bolt wiped out the First Aleran's original officers. When the Legion's engineers built this building, they made sure to put yards and yards of fortified stone over and around the captain, to avoid any repetition."
Isana shivered. She'd heard about the attack. If Tavi hadn't been sent out to run messages for then-Captain Cyril… "I see," she replied.
Araris snorted. "The valets set up Arnos on the top level. I suspect they're privately hoping that the Canim will try another lightning bolt and brighten everyone's day."
Isana repressed a wicked little smile. "Sir Araris," she chided. "That isn't a very kind thing to say."
"Arnie doesn't have kindness coming," Araris replied. Isana felt a gentle surge of contempt flow out with the words.
"You know him," she said.
"We went to the Academy together," Araris replied.
"You didn't get along?"
"Oh, he was at my throat constantly-whenever I wasn't actually in the room," he said. "Arnos never had anything to say to my face." Araris reached up with one hand to rub lightly at the mark branded over one cheek. "He was always small-minded, egotistical. He hasn't changed."
"He's dangerous," Isana said. "Isn't he?"
"Here? Now? Very." He came to a stop before a heavy, closed door, and turned to look at Isana.
She met his eyes, and her mouth suddenly felt dry.
He reached down and took her hand gently in his. He squeezed tightly once. "You can do this."
She bit her lip and nodded. "What if-"
He laid two fingers lightly over her lips and gave her a quiet smile. "Don't borrow trouble. Just talk to him. He loves you. It will be all right."
She closed her eyes tight for a second and brushed the faintest ghost of a kiss against his fingers. Then Isana took a steadying breath, nodded, and said, "Very well."
Araris turned and opened the door for her. "Captain," he announced quietly. "Steadholder Isana to see you."
A resonant, deep-chested voice answered in‹ a tone of distracted confidence. "Thank you, Araris. Send her in, please."
Araris gave Isana another small smile, then stood aside, and Isana walked into Tavi's office. Araris shut the door behind her.
The office was supremely utilitarian, even stark. There was an old wooden desk, scarred from use, several chairs, and several shelves filled with books and papers and writing materials. The cold stone floor was covered by a few simple rugs, and a box beside the lit fireplace was filled with a neat stack of cordwood. A door led off into another room, and a plain, medium-sized mirror hung upon the same wall.
He sat at the desk, a quill in hand, scrawling something hurriedly across the bottom of a page. There were several stacks of them spread across the desk, evidence of what appeared to be several hours' work. He finished writing, set the quill aside, and rose with a broad smile.
Isana stopped in her tracks. The man who stood up was enormous, even taller than her brother Bernard, though he had a more wiry build and the slen-derness of youth. His dark hair was cropped short, and he wore a suit of battered Legion armor and a sword on one hip. His features were angular, strong, attractive, though a fine white line across one cheek spoke of a wound too severe to heal without leaving a scar.