Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER NINE

Ban didn't like this.

Adeyemi's reputation was both fearsome and honorable, but each time the northern king's eyes had gone to Enfri...

Perhaps it was for the best that Pacifica forbade weapons inside the Salt Stone Palace. Ban wouldn't have been able to take his hand from his sword. He was anxious and twitchy, and he felt rather like a caged fangblade.

They were now gathered in a garden, warmed by sigils and protected by wards. In Ban's youth, it had belonged to his mother. Lady Ascania used to sit on the stone bench overlooking the cliffside and the Southern Sea. Within this green corner inside a White City, protected on three sides by the walls of the Karst wing of the palace, Ascania and her family had found peace. She'd tell stories while Ban and Rod sat at her feet. The previous king's twins, Sasha and Pacifica, would often join them. Ascania and Queen Istra would sit, holding hands and leaning their heads together, as their children played. Pleasant memories, now turned to ash.

Ban set aside the phantoms of days past. He held firm. And listened.

Adeyemi knelt before the stone tomb that was now in the garden's center. He bowed his head in prayer. "You honor him as a king."

Sasha stood behind and to the left of Adeyemi. "Dashar was to be the highest of us. My alchemists attend him to preserve his body. As soon as it is feasible, I will see him conducted to the City of Althandor."

"It is nay what I hoped to find at road's end," Adeyemi murmured. "He was both son and brother of mine heart. Melcia shall mourn him." Adeyemi looked to Ban and gave a slight nod before bowing his head once more.

Ban had recounted Dashar's final hour. He spoke of how he and Dashar had fought side by side. Though Adeyemi was disinclined to give it weight, Ban also told him of Duke Falthis Algara and how his venomous council had sparked Rodrik's Rebellion. Without Falthis' journal, stolen by Josy Algara, there was no way to prove it. Adeyemi had only Ban's word, and Karst assurances weren't worth much anymore.

The garden fell into silence. Dashar may not have fought in Ecclesia's name, but his swords had struck in concert with theirs. As thus would he be remembered in the south. An ally.

Ban kept to the mouth of the passage leading back into the palace. Pacifica stood on his left, her hands folded in front of her and a pensive look on her face. The princess' delicate features were worn from lack of sleep, but her silk dress and scarlet hair were in perfect order. The spellfire burn scars she'd received stood out against her pale skin, but they were fading. At Ban's side, she barely came up to his shoulder.

Pacifica noted Ban's scrutiny of her. The smile she returned him was slight, and her eyes had a gleam of worry within them.

A weight he'd been carrying for the last week settled on Ban once more. He felt he had dishonored Pacifica, disrespected the betrothal they once both wished for, and he couldn't bear the shame it placed within his heart. There was much Ban wished to say to her-- to apologize and beg her forgiveness for his callowness and cowardice-- but that would have to wait.

There were others present. Paladins Hugin and Rav, the former recovered from his wounds and the latter finished with fretting over his husband, were close at guard. The married song knights were armored and shining in the sunlight.

Reyn was never far from Pacifica's side. The Gaulatian scribe was the tallest woman here and the most plainly dressed. Her cotton shirt, vest, and trousers were out of place, but she didn't appear at all self-conscious. Dark red hair cut to her jawline, fair skin, blue eyes the shape of almonds, and a smattering of freckles lent her a stunning beauty. Were it not for her manner of dress and sharp tongue, she could have passed for an eastern noblewoman.