Exile by Betsy Dornbusch Page B

fury. Reavan was a man on the edge of doing something Draken would regret. “A witness? The Brînian pirate attacked us—”
    “Only after you attacked me,” Draken said. “And I’m not a pir—”
    “Silence, sir,” Tyrolean said quietly from close behind Draken.
    Draken hadn’t noticed Tyrolean’s approach in his preoccupation with Reavan. Keep it together, he chided himself. Let anyone sneak up and I won’t last long.
    “The Mance saved my life,” the Queen said, suddenly looking quite young. But her next words erased the image. “And you forget your place, Lord Marshal. Go to my Escorts. See they bring the assassin to me. Alive.”
    No warmth tempered her tone. Reavan gave a tight bow and left, his swift steps hammering the stone floor.
    Elena turned back to Osias once he’d gone. “Tell me more of this Brînian. Why is he so far from home?”
    “His name is Draken. He comes this way by accidental sorcery, and I’ve claimed him.”
    Draken saw no reason to disagree. So far the Mance had protected his secret, and Draken had no one else to trust.
    “Let me hear your voice, Draken.”
    His hands were numb from their bindings, and he thought he was getting too old to kneel like this. It was fine for these soldiers in their twenties; he was past thirty-five with a body full of battle wounds. But he hadn’t forgotten the sword at his back. “It’s as Osias says, Queen Elena. The bane attacked and Osias rescued me.”
    “Are you pureblood Brînian?” Her gaze perused him as if she found him distasteful.
    Draken glanced up at Osias. This might get dicey. They hadn’t discussed the finer points of their lie.
    “He is, Your Majesty,” Osias said.
    Queen Elena drummed her fingers once on the thin metal of her chair. It rang like a bell and one of the Escorts grasped Draken’s arm again, her fingers digging into his bicep. Jumpy lot, he noted with some disdain. He’d expect a Queen’s guard to keep better composure.
    “The Brînian Heir and his betrothed are here,” Queen Elena said at last, “resting from their journey. They will attend court in a few days. Let them claim you if they will. In the meantime, you are detained to the cages—”
    “He means no harm,” Osias said in a hurry.
    Elena’s lined eyes held Draken’s in their grasp. “I am not afforded the luxury of leniency when it comes to any Brînian, especially one who killed my First Captain.”
    “He is a Brînian nêre, a warrior lord who will serve you with honor,” Osias said. “Respected in his homeland and no danger to you. I asked no reparation when your Escorts attacked us; I would have it now, with his freedom. I’m certain Lord Prince Khel would beg it of you as well.”
    “I do not wish to insult Prince Khel,” Elena said. “But I must be cautious, especially if what you say of the banes is truth.” She paused and stared at Draken again. “He may remain in your custody. In the meantime, Draken, think on how you might be of service to me.”
    Draken inclined his head. “I will, Your Majesty.” Not as if I’ve anything better to do, stuck here as a prisoner, he thought. But he knew a minor negotiation win when he heard it. And if there were regular meals, he’d already improved his condition seven-fold.
    Elena began her dismissal, “Now. I’ve other matters—”
    Osias said softly, “In this, you’ve gained a powerful ally, Queen Elena.”
    Elena’s lined eyes darted his way and she half-rose from the throne. “Perhaps you’re not as simple as you seem, Lord Mance.”
    “Mance protect many secrets,” Osias said. “Not all of them our own.”
    Something in the way her face constricted sent a fresh buzz of alarm through Draken. But it passed and she sat back down, smoothing her skirt with one hand and turning a triumphant smile on Draken.
    “I am glad to offer my hospitality, Draken,” she said. “By the looks of you, you’ll be quite useful indeed.”
    A quiver went through him at the sudden return