Her gaze flicked about the chamber, coming to rest briefly on the servant before returning to Renald’s face. “I summoned you some time ago. Where have you been?”
He wanted to rail at her for speaking to him so. He should at least have demanded an apology. It was one thing to use such a tone with her duke when they were alone, but to do so in front of others, even a common servant, was unacceptable. But it was all he could do just to say, as if a boy offering excuses to an irate parent, “I was on the tower. The war’s started.”
Her entire bearing changed. She took a step toward him, eager, a fierce smile on her flawless face. “They’ve started? You saw them fighting?”
Renald nodded.
“What’s happening? Can you tell how the fleet is faring?”
“Not well. They’ve already lost several ships, and were on the verge of losing more when I left the tower.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, then stopped, glaring at the servant. “Leave us!”
The boy nearly jumped to obey, scurrying from the room with a quick backward glance.
“You think it will end quickly?” she asked when the boy was gone, avid and dazzling, her color high.
“I fear it will.” He winced at his choice of words, hoping she wouldn’t notice.
Little chance of that.
“You fear it will?” she repeated, the smile vanishing.
“I only meant that I wish so many didn’t have to die.”
“It’s war, you fool. Of course they have to die. Eventually you’ll have to lead men to kill and be killed. You’ll have to raise your sword as well, or fall in battle. You are prepared to do all that, aren’t you, Renald?”
“Yes, of course-”
“Because if you’re not, you’d best say so now. There still may be time to salvage something from this mess you’ve created.”
“I’m prepared to do whatever I must to take the crown, Elspeth. I’ve told Ewan to prepare the castle for a siege. Even if I wanted to meet the emperor’s army on the strand, it’s too late now. I’ve chosen my path and I’ll travel it as far as it will take me.”
“Good, Renald. Very good.” She began to circle the room, like a wolf stalking her prey. “What does Ewan think of all this? He can’t be happy about it.”
“I’ve told you before: Ewan is a good soldier. He’ll do as he’s told. I’ve made it clear to him that I intend to be king, and that he has only to follow me and soon enough he’ll be commander of the King’s Guard. I’m sure that he laments the loss of life as I do.” He paused, eyeing her briefly. “As we all do. But he understands that some sacrifices must be made if we’re to rid ourselves of both the invaders from Braedon and the usurpers from Glyndwr and Curgh.”
She continued to roam the chamber, passing just behind him, her shoulder brushing his back and her scent, lavender and woodbine, filling him, intoxicating him. He closed his eyes for just an instant, inhaling deeply.
“The usurpers,” she said, her voice low. “I like that. Did you think of it yourself?”
“Actually, I did.”
“What if the emperor’s men besiege the castle? What if it’s Kearney who must come to our aid, rather than us to his?”
Renald shook his head. “I don’t think that will happen. This is an invasion. A prolonged siege here gains them nothing. Even if they were to prevail-not that they will-but even if they were to, they would only succeed in giving Kearney time to marshal his forces. They need to strike quickly at the heart of the realm. They need to destroy the King’s Guard. If they can do that, the houses will fall in turn. At least, that’s what the emperor’s commanders will think.”
“You reasoned this out as well?”
“Yes. Ewan agrees with me,” he added quickly, lest she think him overly confident.
But Elspeth smiled at him, a radiant smile, seemingly free of irony or scorn. It had been years since he last saw a smile like this one on her face. She had circled close again. The air around them was redolent. “I agree with you, too.” She stopped behind him, slipping her arms beneath his and resting her cheek against his back. “You’ve been watching Pillad, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” he whispered. He felt the beginning of an erection pressing against his robe, and he prayed that she wouldn’t notice. “I have men watching all the Qirsi, the first minister in particular. He spends a good deal of time in the city, drinking alone at a tavern there. But he never speaks with anyone, and aside from the ale, he never spends any gold.”
She reached a hand inside his robe and began to rub his chest gently. It had been so long since she’d touched him like this. “Still, I wouldn’t trust him with anything of importance. Not now, not when we’re so close.”
Renald closed his eyes. “Of course,” he said. In a far corner of his mind he thought, If I’d known she’d respond like this, I’d have led a rebellion years ago. He nearly laughed aloud.
A moment later she stepped around to stand before him. Glancing down, seeing the bulge at the front of his robe, she smiled again, though not with her usual cruelty. Still smiling, looking into his eyes once more, she reached down to untie the sash.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, and then instantly regretted the question.
But she merely gazed at him placidly. “I told you some time ago, Renald, if you were to lead this war as would a king, you could have me again.” She reached within his robe and gently took hold of him. “I’m a woman of my word.”
She withdrew her hand and began to unfasten the buttons that ran down the length of her dress.
Renald touched her hands with his own, stopping her. “May I?” he asked, something in his voice reminding him once more of a child.
Elspeth’s eyes were luminous as she led him to the bed. “Of course.”
The White Wave was nearly empty, as it usually was so early in the day. Pillad was already on his third ale, and the darkness that seemed to come with all drink in recent days was already upon him. He no longer bought the ale that was made here in Galdasten, though it was fine enough for most. He preferred the light brew from Thorald, the finest in the land. And since he had gold enough to afford whatever ale he wanted, he didn’t think twice about drinking it. True, there might have been some danger in flaunting his newly acquired taste for Thorald’s golden. With rumors of the conspiracy running rampant through the realm, and Braedon warships poised off the coast, any Qirsi spending too much of his or her wage was suspect in the eyes of Ean’s children. Even his Qirsi masters would not have approved, seeing in his recklessness a threat to their movement, to their very lives.
But Pillad knew better than to be afraid. No one paid any attention to him; nobody cared what he did. His duke had lost faith in him long ago, and because of that, the movement had little use for him anymore. Uestem, the Qirsi merchant who first convinced Pillad to join the Weaver’s cause, had scarcely spoken to him since the first minister received his gold. For one brief moment, it had seemed that he was a prize coveted by both sides in this conflict. His loyalty had been a battlefield on which Qirsi and Eandi contended, until he chose to cast his lot with his people, and with the shadowy figure of his dreams who would be the Forelands’ first Qirsi king.
It hadn’t taken him long to understand that this had been a hollow victory for, the Qirsi and a loss without cost for his duke and the Eandi courts. He was worthless. He could provide answers to a few questions that the Weaver’s servants deemed important: How would Renald respond to the empire’s invasion? How would he allocate his men if Braedon’s army laid siege to the city and castle? How long would Galdasten’s stores hold out if the siege went on? But beyond these scraps of information, he offered little of importance. He had thought that Uestem cared for him, that they might find in their shared struggle against the courts something more than comradery, something more even, than friendship. He knew now that he had been a fool. All the merchant had wanted was to deliver him to the Weaver. In some small way then, he had been a prize, but knowing this did nothing to heal his wounded pride or ease the pain in his heart.