Gail Martin - The Sworn

Jonmarc shrugged. “Let’s just hope everyone remembers that Kalcen repealed the death warrant his father issued on me. Otherwise, there might be a ‘diplomatic incident.’ ” He looked at Jencin. “How many of them are there?”

“An ambassador, two military strategists, two of their Hojun priests, a dozen servants, a contingent of bodyguards-and Prince Gethin.”

“Prince Gethin?” Berry repeated in astonishment.

“Any idea why he came along?” Jonmarc asked.

Jencin shook his head. He seemed more nervous than usual. “No. No. The king didn’t include me in his negotiations with Eastmark. He said he still had some details to work out. The Eastmark delegation has been very polite, but they’ve made it clear their business is with the queen.”

Berry and Jonmarc looked at each other. “Well,” Jonmarc said, “let’s see what brought them all this way.”

Berry composed her face and drew herself up to her full height. Jonmarc saw her expression take on a blankness that made it difficult to guess what she was thinking. Something else he imagined that royals practiced, a necessary survival skill.

“All rise to greet Queen Berwyn of Principality.”

Jencin announced their entrance as he swung open the doors to the great room. Nearly twenty Eastmark visitors rose as the queen entered. Their dark skin made them stand out, even in Principality, which had more than its share of mercs and merchants from throughout the Winter Kingdoms. Eastmark was a proud kingdom, and under the previous king, King Radomar, it had maintained an aloofness from the other kingdoms.

Jonmarc noticed a dignified older man and a sullen but handsome young man at the forefront of the group. Behind them, two Eastmark Hojuns wore the elaborate robes that marked them as shaman-priests. The Hojuns ’ heads were shaved bald, and intricate runes covered their scalps, designs that had been cut into the flesh and left to scar. Complex patterns of tattoos wound down their arms onto their hands. The Hojuns wore carved amulets and bracelets of wood, bone, and gemstones, and disks of copper around the hems of their robes made bell-like sounds as they moved. The rest of the group looked to be functionaries and bureaucrats. Whatever servants or valets the group brought were likely to already be housed with the rest of the palace staff.

The older gentleman, a poised man with close-cut, white hair, stepped forward first. He gave a polite bow that stopped short of real deference. “Your Majesty. We offer condolences on the untimely death of King Staden and our sincere best wishes for a long and prosperous reign, even in these difficult times.”

Berry gave a polite half smile that did not reach her eyes. “Thank you.”

“I am Avencen, and I have been sent by King Kalcen as ambassador to Principality.” He smiled, and it made his finely featured face more open, although his black eyes did not soften. “It’s been long overdue. Before we departed, I welcomed my counterpart to Eastmark. You may rest assured that he is comfortable.”

“Again, our thanks.”

Avencen paused, and Jonmarc thought he looked nervous. “King Staden’s sudden death left important negotiations with Eastmark unfinished. Those negotiations must now be between you and King Kalcen.” He seemed to steel himself and took a deep breath. “It leaves us in an awkward situation.”

Berry frowned. “How so?”

Avencen stepped to the side. “May I present Prince Gethin, son of King Kalcen, third in line for the throne of Eastmark.” Gethin stepped forward and made a stiff bow. To Jonmarc’s eye, he looked to be about nineteen years old. Jonmarc saw Berry’s attention move to the prince. Gethin was a good-looking young man, and Jonmarc guessed that that was not lost on the new queen.

Gethin stood a bit taller than Jonmarc, with a trim, lithe build. His coal-black hair was shoulder length, and straight. Ebony skin indicated that he was from the highest ranks of Eastmark society, and his eyes glinted like obsidian. A medallion in the shape of a silver stawar joined the symbol of the Lady on a leather strap at his throat. A complicated tattoo on the left side of his face curled from brow to chin, and Jonmarc knew it indicated his rank in the succession. He had seen such a mark before when he had served as a soldier in Eastmark, at Chauvrenne.

Gethin was dressed in traveling leathers that were only slightly lighter than his skin. Where Avencen and the others favored the bright orange and yellow colors popular in Eastmark and loose, flowing pants and billow-sleeved shirts, Gethin’s close-fitting leather outfit seemed stark, almost military. Jonmarc noticed that he wore a scabbard and a baldric, though both were empty. From Gethin’s stance and manner, Jonmarc guessed the young man was an accomplished fighter.

Avencen cleared his throat. “King Staden and King Kalcen had agreed to all but one provision of the accord. Staden insisted that Prince Gethin travel here so that he could meet the prince and take the measure of his character.”

The same possibility seemed to dawn on both Jonmarc and Berry simultaneously, as they exchanged wary glances. Berry drew a short breath. “For what purpose?”

“To seal the alliance, King Kalcen has offered something unprecedented: the hand of his son in marriage.” Avencen swallowed. “As Your Majesty surely knows from Eastmark’s history, when the king’s sister, Princess Viata, eloped with Prince Donelan of Isencroft, the Winter Kingdoms nearly came to war. Such an alliance was forbidden until King Kalcen changed the law in his sister’s memory.”

“Yeah, and the betrothal contract that Bricen of Margolan brokered between Donelan’s daughter and his own firstborn son to stop that war almost caused another,” Jonmarc replied. That contract, which bound Kiara of Isencroft to Bricen’s eldest son, Jared, created scandal and complications as Tris Drayke fought to take the throne from his hated half-brother and found himself in love with Kiara.

Avencen shifted uncomfortably. “I believe that history was not lost on King Staden. He had no desire to see his daughter paired to a… to someone like Jared the Usurper. That’s why he insisted that the prince visit. King Kalcen had already had the good fortune of meeting Princess… Queen… Berwyn at Martris Drayke’s wedding. All that was left was winning Staden’s approval to the match.”

Gethin’s face was impassive, but his eyes flashed fire. He doesn’t really want to be here, Jonmarc thought.

“Your deal just became more complicated,” Berry said tersely. “No one asked me what I thought of an arranged marriage.” She looked Gethin over and met his eyes defiantly. “I don’t think anyone asked your prince, either. While I appreciate this historic first and am honored by the gift you offer, I’m queen now, not a princess to be bargained off. You began your negotiations with my father. Now, you’re dealing with me.” Her expression suddenly softened, just enough to give Avencen hope, and Jonmarc knew Berry was using all of her acting skills to navigate the situation.

“On the other hand, it would be unwise to reject such a historic offer out of hand. No doubt Father and King Kalcen had the best interests of both kingdoms at heart and, I would hope, the best interests of their children as well.” She paused. “Your delegation and the prince are welcome to stay at the palace while I give this matter further consideration.

“There is another complication,” Berry continued. “Our intelligence sources lead us to believe that war is imminent between the Winter Kingdoms and an invader from across the Northern Sea. Once war breaks out, you’ll be unable to return to Eastmark for the duration.”

Avencen and Gethin exchanged a glance. “We knew when we left Eastmark about the danger from the north,” Avencen said. “The kings of all the lands have been communicating with each other for some time now about the threat. King Kalcen has already committed our army to the coast.” Avencen paused. “Even knowing the danger, we came. The alliance between our kingdoms is that important.”