down the steps. A gust whipped her dress snug to her form. It was no crime to look, to think what a man naturally thinks on seeing a fine figure. Pity the governor wasn’t here to see to the exact curve of her hips and thighs. But he’d probably seen more. Touched more.
Thunder rumbled louder.
She sat on the stone bench. Degarius stayed standing with his arms crossed. Seeing he wouldn’t sit, she stood again and said, “You must get your sword back before the king gives it to Prince Lerouge. Offer him anything, everything.”
“What?”
“The line of engraving on your sword is in one of the secret codes used during the Reckoning, but I’m certain it means this: In Thy Kiss is a Taste of Eternity. The mark in the horse’s mane contains the letters H, C, and A. They are the initials of the sword’s maker, Henri Claude of Acadia pronounced osh, say, ah in Frankish. I guess it was corrupted in old Anglish to Assaea. It’s how your sword came by its name.”
Degarius slipped his hand under his tied-back hair and cupped the back of his neck. “What?”
“Your sword is Assaea, Paulus’s sword.”
“What game are you playing with me, Hera?”
“It’s not a game. When I saw the mark at the top of the blade—”
“You informed the king of your discovery, and he got it from me without a fight.” She was a damn false woman on every account.
“Would I be telling you now if that was the case?”
Pain throbbed behind his eyes. He took his glasses off and folded them into his hand.
“Believe me,” she said, “your life would be nothing to them if they knew what you had.”
“What are my life and concerns to you?”
“I only wish to do what is right. The king is not the best of men, Captain Degarius.”
You aren’t the best of women .
“He would want your sword not only for their collection, but so Artell and Assaea could pass to the prince’s twin sons. Would you have willingly given your sword to him if you knew what it was?”
Degarius held his glasses to his forehead.
The garden went bright as day and thunder cracked. The storm had swallowed the sky above.
“I saw the king fancied your blade, but I never expected him to request it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to at Ramblewood, but by then it was too late.”
Raindrops started to fall.
Degarius exhaled. “I would’ve found a way to keep it if I knew what I had. Never would I have given it up. Are you certain King Lerouge or the governor doesn’t know?”
“Keithan? No, no one. I promise before the Maker.”
Before the Maker? What else had she promised before the Maker? Degarius dropped to the stone bench and hung his head low. His sword was Assaea, and it was gone forever if the king had an inkling of what it was. “It’s going to pour. Go inside.”
“You are the bravest of men. Assaea must be yours.”
He was the bravest of men, she said. The Maker had a special mercy for him, she said. Bitterness filled Degarius’s mouth. He lifted his head. “Must I tell you again to leave me?”
Rain pounded on the stairwell window as Arvana went up to her room. Dear Maker, was Captain Degarius still out there?
She paused before her chamber door. It pained her more than she could explain to know the captain was angry with her, but she’d done the best she could by him.
Now, something from Chane awaited her.
JUDGES AND PROPHETS
Arvana’s bedchamber
A rvana took Keithan’s delivery from her dressing table. Wax cloth protected the contents, which were too large to be a letter, during its sea voyage. “What have you sent me, Chane?” she whispered as she untied the string and peeled away the wax cloth.
Inside was a journal filled with the prince’s precise hand. The note on the first page read, “As faithful a translation as my abilities permit.” It was a translation ofthe book he had shown her at Summercrest.
She fetched a handful of candles from the window seat, called for a pot of tea, and immersed
Thunder rumbled louder.
She sat on the stone bench. Degarius stayed standing with his arms crossed. Seeing he wouldn’t sit, she stood again and said, “You must get your sword back before the king gives it to Prince Lerouge. Offer him anything, everything.”
“What?”
“The line of engraving on your sword is in one of the secret codes used during the Reckoning, but I’m certain it means this: In Thy Kiss is a Taste of Eternity. The mark in the horse’s mane contains the letters H, C, and A. They are the initials of the sword’s maker, Henri Claude of Acadia pronounced osh, say, ah in Frankish. I guess it was corrupted in old Anglish to Assaea. It’s how your sword came by its name.”
Degarius slipped his hand under his tied-back hair and cupped the back of his neck. “What?”
“Your sword is Assaea, Paulus’s sword.”
“What game are you playing with me, Hera?”
“It’s not a game. When I saw the mark at the top of the blade—”
“You informed the king of your discovery, and he got it from me without a fight.” She was a damn false woman on every account.
“Would I be telling you now if that was the case?”
Pain throbbed behind his eyes. He took his glasses off and folded them into his hand.
“Believe me,” she said, “your life would be nothing to them if they knew what you had.”
“What are my life and concerns to you?”
“I only wish to do what is right. The king is not the best of men, Captain Degarius.”
You aren’t the best of women .
“He would want your sword not only for their collection, but so Artell and Assaea could pass to the prince’s twin sons. Would you have willingly given your sword to him if you knew what it was?”
Degarius held his glasses to his forehead.
The garden went bright as day and thunder cracked. The storm had swallowed the sky above.
“I saw the king fancied your blade, but I never expected him to request it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to at Ramblewood, but by then it was too late.”
Raindrops started to fall.
Degarius exhaled. “I would’ve found a way to keep it if I knew what I had. Never would I have given it up. Are you certain King Lerouge or the governor doesn’t know?”
“Keithan? No, no one. I promise before the Maker.”
Before the Maker? What else had she promised before the Maker? Degarius dropped to the stone bench and hung his head low. His sword was Assaea, and it was gone forever if the king had an inkling of what it was. “It’s going to pour. Go inside.”
“You are the bravest of men. Assaea must be yours.”
He was the bravest of men, she said. The Maker had a special mercy for him, she said. Bitterness filled Degarius’s mouth. He lifted his head. “Must I tell you again to leave me?”
Rain pounded on the stairwell window as Arvana went up to her room. Dear Maker, was Captain Degarius still out there?
She paused before her chamber door. It pained her more than she could explain to know the captain was angry with her, but she’d done the best she could by him.
Now, something from Chane awaited her.
JUDGES AND PROPHETS
Arvana’s bedchamber
A rvana took Keithan’s delivery from her dressing table. Wax cloth protected the contents, which were too large to be a letter, during its sea voyage. “What have you sent me, Chane?” she whispered as she untied the string and peeled away the wax cloth.
Inside was a journal filled with the prince’s precise hand. The note on the first page read, “As faithful a translation as my abilities permit.” It was a translation ofthe book he had shown her at Summercrest.
She fetched a handful of candles from the window seat, called for a pot of tea, and immersed
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