Page 44 of Court of Talons
“Your sister,” Fortiss clarifies. “That’s who we’re talking about?”
“Yes, of course.” I give him a stare full of dim-witted innocence as the next warrior knight enters the courtyard behind me. I bow gravely to him then straighten. “Well met, Lord Fortiss.”
Caleb and I mount the stairs as quickly as possible, stifled snickers between us. But as we enter the shadowy foyer, both our moods dampen quickly. A pair of guards await us and turn to move ahead, escorting us deeper into the castle. The moment they draw far enough away for discretion, Caleb begins whispering to me about the number of guards, warriors, nobles,and staff in the castle, how to greet them all and where I’d find them.
Once again, irritation flares in my gut. All these careful rituals! All these polite displays of manners and grace. How many of the men who’ve entered these halls and stood before the Lord Protector are capable of murdering their own? Only one, in all of the Protectorate? I don’t believe it. Instead, I feel the very walls of the First House press down on me, as if longing to share the truth of the treacherous villains who’ve passed before me.
Caleb gestures to the stone passageway ahead.
“This leads to the throne room, though the Lord Protector doesn’t want it called that. It’s what it is, though,” he murmurs as we walk down the long corridor, silent guards flanking us. “You’ll be presented, and you should bow at the waist like you did with Fortiss. Don’t kneel. Kneeling means you’ve pledged your allegiance to this house.”
He snaps his mouth shut as the guards stop sharply and turn to face each other, creating a wall of men for us to walk between. When we step into the “throne” room, however, I can’t help but gasp. Caleb is right, there’s no other way to describe the opulence of this chamber.
The room is filled with gold.
Rich enameled flooring extends from the base of the central throne to the far walls, and great gilded tapestries hang against every wall. Where there isn’t cloth, there’s artwork, richly framed and lushly painted scenes of war and glory—one of which depicts the enormous castle at the center of the Exalted Imperium’s capital. I stare in wonder. The Tenth House has a similar painting, but a fraction of the size.To each according to their merit, runs the inscription beneath. I never realized how meaningful that phrase was until now.
“Keep going,” hisses Caleb, and as I stride forward, one hand on my belt as both Nazar and Caleb have instructed me, mybooted feet ring out on the floor. My other hand holds my cloak wide, to display the fact that I’m carrying a sword but also to assure that I have no intention of grabbing it.
As if I’d attempt to wield a sword in a place with so many warriors primed for battle.
Caleb falls into position behind me. Eventually, he too, stops, but I move forward with another guard until I reach the base of the short staircase that leads up to the Lord Protector on his throne.
I saw him on his stone platform at the coliseum, so I knew he was tall—but I don’t realize how tall until now. Thin and sharply angled, with an aquiline nose and strong jaw, Lord Rihad gazes down at us. His most compelling feature is his eyes, I decide. They appear nearly black at this distance and pick me apart like a carcass worked over by vultures.
I stare back, my expression flat. This is no time to let my true emotions show.
The Lord Protector’s long fingers grip the edge of his gilded armrests—not in concern or dismay or even great emotion, I think. It seems almost as if it’s merely his habit, to remind himself that the throne is there in his grasp. He’s a pale man, the kind whose emotion would easily be seen in the flush upon his skin. His hair is black, peppered with gray and swept back from his forehead, and his lips and nose seem pinched, for all that he smiles.
The guard beside me halts and announces my name again. As instructed, I bow at the waist, then stand straight beneath the gaze of the Lord Protector.
“We have not had a warrior of the Tenth House take part in the Tournament of Gold since Lemille last tried his hand, long years ago,” Rihad says, leaning forward to place his elbows upon his knees. When he looks at me that way, I’ve no choice but to stare back at him, though I can sense others standing behind thethrone. Not more soldiers, but priests in long robes, all of them eyeing me with scant interest. How many fighters have they seen cross this great hall, how many tournaments?
How many murderers?
But the Lord Protector’s next words jerk me to attention. “How does your father fare?”
“Well, Lord Protector Rihad.” I nod. My voice is a rough rasp, but it’s loud enough in this cavernous hall. “His foot pains him, but he’s in good spirits and rides whenever he’s able. The crops in the mountain fields have fared better than expected these past few seasons.”
“Good.” The Lord Protector’s arched eyebrows lift. “And yet he hasn’t petitioned for more banded soldiers. If he is thriving, it is his due.”
I didn’t know this, but it makes a certain sort of sense. Beyond its secondary warrior knights, the First House has so many banded soldiers because the First House is large and robust, and probably has been that way since its earliest days. If any of the subsidiary houses thrive, then they would be granted more soldiers as well.
With the Lord Protector waiting, however, I manage a grim smile. “Perhaps I will do him the honor of faring well enough in the Tournament of Gold that we’ll be granted soldiers from my efforts.”
“Indeed.” The Lord Protector claps his hands together, the sound loud enough to echo off the far walls. “You’ll be in good company. Fully fifty-one warrior knights are committed thus far, and we receive more every day. The Tenth House is a welcome addition; perhaps the remaining houses will offer their warriors as well.”
He speaks without guile, and I peer at him, accusations regarding the murder of my brother leaping within me. But what words can I speak? I have nothing—not a name, not a face. Onlya knowledge that I shouldn’t have, except that I was traveling with my brother when he was killed…on my way to my ownwedding. As agirl.
If I share that, I’ll lose everything.
“It’s an honor for every warrior to have his chance upon the battlefield,” I say instead, reciting the words Caleb fed me on the long ride up. The Lord Protector is as much a traditionalist as my father, it would appear. To him, everything is about honor.
“Your men are settled in the barracks?” He directs the question not to me, but to a figure behind me. I assume it’s Caleb, but then Fortiss’s clear voice responds. I jolt with the awareness that he’s so close.
“They are, my lord,” he says, his voice rich and smooth. “We also expect warriors from the Eighth and Ninth houses yet this day. It will be a grand celebration.”
“Good.” The Lord Protector pounds his armrests and stands, and I am struck again by his height. “Tonight, we feast, and soon we fight. For the honor of the Protectorate!”