Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

“And what promises are those?” Thamos asked.

Araine signaled Janson, who handed the count a rolled parchment. Thamos opened it, reading quickly. Leesha leaned in to read over his shoulder.

“This has the Laktonians swearing fealty to me,” Thamos said.

“Why shouldn’t we make demands, if we’re to commit lives to their aid?” Janson asked. “They’re the ones under siege, not us.”

“Not yet,” Leesha noted.

“Nevertheless, the minister is correct,” Araine said. “They need us more than we need them right now, a fact we would be foolish to ignore as we open negotiations. Their soldiers will follow your commands if battle is to be met. That part is not negotiable.”

“I understand.” Thamos’ voice was tight. “But you have them swearing to me, not Rhinebeck.”

“You are lord commander of the Wooden Soldiers and Count of Hollow County,” Araine said. “It makes sense for them to ally with you directly.”

Thamos shook his head. “Rhinebeck will not see it that way.”

“Rhinebeck won’t have any choice.” Araine’s voice became a lash. “By the time he hears of it, the treaty will be signed and you’ll be out of his reach, with three armies at your disposal. He won’t have the strength to oppose you.”

“Oppose?” Thamos asked. “Am I to take the place of the demon of the desert, conquering Thesa?”

“I’m not asking you to be a conqueror,” Araine said. “That isn’t what we need.”

“Then just what is it we do need, Mother?” Thamos demanded.

“A king,” Araine said. “Not a demon. Not a Deliverer. Thesa needs a king.”

Thamos stared at her blankly, and Araine stepped up, holding his face in her hands. “Oh, my sweet boy. Don’t think on it now. Think only of keeping safe, doing what must be done, and returning to the ones you love.” She embraced him tightly, dabbing tears from her eyes as she pulled back.

“You have until dawn to settle your business and say your goodbyes,” Araine said. “Though from the color in your cheeks when you first arrived, I’d guess you’ve already settled some of it.”

She turned, sweeping Briar and Janson up in her wake as she left Leesha and Thamos alone in the garden. He held his arms open to her, and she fell into them, embracing him tightly. He squeezed in return, and she began to sob into the neatly bunched wad of cloth where his cloak clasped at his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” she begged, knowing it was a foolish request.

“What choice do I have, with my brother and mother unified?” Thamos asked. “They would strip the Hollow from me. Give it to Mickael, perhaps. He regrets not taking it, now. Pether, too. Neither wanted the place when it was offered a few months ago, but they eye it hungrily, now.”

“They eye it because you built it into something more,” Leesha said. “The Hollowers know that. Once you’re back in your seat, no missive from Angiers could take it from you, if they even dared try.”

“Ay, perhaps,” Thamos said. “If I wished to war on my brother more than I do the Krasians. But someone needs to turn the tide. If the Krasians take Lakton, it is only a matter of time before they swallow everything south of the Dividing. Who will do it, if not me? Your precious Arlen Bales is gone.”

The words were bitter, but Leesha ignored the barb. “Take me with you, then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thamos said. “It’s weeks of travel through enemy territory, and you’re five moons pregnant.”

“I was strong enough to stand against a pack of coreling assassins,” Leesha said. “You think I can’t hold my own against the Krasians?”

“Krasians fight in the day,” Thamos reminded her. “Will hora protect your child from spears and arrows while the sun shines?”

Leesha knew he was right, but it grated all the same. “They’re just using you. Araine and Rhinebeck, both. A pawn in their political games.”

“And what are you doing, Leesha?” Thamos demanded. “You knew how it would appear when you made such a show of bedding me. You used me to help hide your indiscretion.”

“I know,” Leesha said. “I’m so sorry …”

Thamos cut her off. “And now I have a choice. Marry you, and await my inevitable humiliation, or turn my back on the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

He pulled away. “Perhaps I’m better off dead.”

He turned on his heel and left her alone in the garden, feeling as if her heart had been torn out.

Leesha stood there a moment, shock and pain freezing her in place. But only for a moment. Then she was lifting her skirts and kicking off her shoes.

“Thamos!” she called, sacrificing dignity to run after him. It could not end like this. She would not let it. She had come so close. He had been in her arms. He had been in her. If they must part, let it be with a kiss, and with Thamos knowing she loved him.

Thamos must have been moving fast, or taken a different path from the gardens. She reached the entrance to the palace and there was no sign of him in the hall. She hurried by the statues of dukes past, heading for his rooms. He had to return there to finish preparations for his departure.

There was a sound ahead, coming from the very alcove she and Thamos had used for their tryst. Had Thamos hidden there from her? Or gone there to vent his emotion in the safe embrace of the shadows?

But some things were not meant for shadows. Some things needed the light. Leesha pulled a wardstone from the velvet hora pouch at her waist and moved her fingers to activate the wards, filling the alcove with a bright wardlight that banished the shadows like the sun itself.

But it wasn’t Thamos hiding there. In nearly the same position she and the count had taken their pleasure bent the Princess Lorain and Lord Sament. Momentum saw the lord pump into her twice more before he reacted to the light, falling back and stumbling, trying to pull up the breeches around his knees.

Leesha felt her face heat, lowering the light and averting her eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Sorry or not, you’ve seen us now.” Lorain had an easier time composing herself, gown falling back as soon as she stood. She advanced on Leesha, menacingly. “The question is what should we do about that?”

“You are not promised to Rhinebeck. You should not be expected to save yourself for a married man.” Leesha looked at Sament, now decent again. “I’d heard that Euchor dissolved your marriage, but it was not to a Lord Sament.”

“Sament is friend of mine,” the lord said, “and agreed to lend me his name for the trip south. None in Angiers knows what either of us look like.” He reached out, taking Lorain’s hand. “Dissolved or no, I could not just send my wife alone to a hostile court.”

“My father can tear a paper, but he can’t take back our vows,” Lorain said. “I will marry Rhinebeck if politics demand, but he will never be my husband.” She looked at Sament. “Not even if my husband gets his night wish and dies on this fool’s errand to Lakton.”

“I have to go,” Sament said. “If we succeed at freeing Lakton, then perhaps you won’t have to marry Rhinebeck. If not, I’d rather be dead than have to see it.”

Lorain looked at Leesha, her eyes untrusting. “I expect you cannot understand, mistress. Will you tell the duchess?”

Leesha reached for the woman, ignoring the princess’ shocked look as she pulled her into an embrace. “I understand better than you know. Unless you marry Rhinebeck, you have Gatherer’s word I won’t speak of it.” She looked to Sament. “Should that come to pass, you will return to Miln until there is an heir, to ensure the issue is true.”

Sament grit his teeth, but he nodded once.