The Ruby Prince: Book Two of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 2) by Beth Brower Page A

personal,” he explained. “He will want to make his own statement by clearing the pass, at any cost, and subjugating the population.”
    The courtier considered what Basaal had said before responding. “Now Aedon is trusting you,” he said, “to get Eleanor home.”
    “How do you know that?” Basaal asked.
    “We’ve our own eyes and ears between Marion and Aemogen,” the old man said, pointing to his own. “And, we both know there is a way through the mountain. I’ve had letters these last few days from Thayne,” he explained. “You promised that you would see Eleanor safely home if she were in your care. You swore it on the deaths of Common Field.”
    Basaal bristled at having his private pledge spoken to his face by this stranger. “I did,” he finally admitted.
    “Then, let me help you.”
    Basaal ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I can’t,” he said. The prince lifted himself out of the water and walked towards the bench, where his things waited. He covered himself with the robe then sat, brushing the water away from his face and leaning against the wall.
    “You still don’t trust me.” The old man moved his arms through the water, as if remembering he was cold.
    “No, I don’t.” Basaal shrugged. “Trust is a process, not a moment.”
    “I say it’s a decision.”
    “Whatever it is,” Basaal said, impatient, “I don’t trust you. But, that is not why I can’t send Eleanor with you.”
    “Why then?” he asked.
    “I will be as honest as I can,” Basaal said and paused. “Sorry, what was your name?”
    “Call me cousin Telford.” The old man grinned. “An awful name, but it’s mine.”
    Basaal raised his eyebrows in agreement. It was an awful name.
    “I suppose you have heard of the Desolation of Aramesh?” Basaal asked. The old man, Telford as he called himself, nodded. “Not long after Aramesh, my father decided to take Aemogen. He commissioned me to lead this conquest, but I refused the commission, at first.”
    “Before you realized what a feather little Aemogen would be in your cap,” Telford suggested. “A step forward in your own ambition.” The courtier almost sounded flippant.
    “No,” Basaal said, eyeing the man with a wary frown. “I have my personal reasons for wanting to see Aemogen spared as much pain as possible. I realized that if my father were to ask any of my brothers to lead the conquest, it would be a brutal showing, and the country of Aemogen would suffer.”
    Telford was silent.
    “I then claimed the position in hopes that I could lead the Aemogen queen to choose a peaceful surrender,” Basaal said. “You know that didn’t work. Yet, I am determined to maintain my position as the head of the Aemogen conquest. That means there can be no misstep whatsoever. Eleanor cannot escape while in my custody.” Telford moved as if to say something, but Basaal interrupted him. “You’ve heard of the Vestan Assassins?”
    With a nod, Telford waved Basaal on.
    “Four of them travel in my company,” Basaal explained. “They will ensure that both Eleanor and I arrive in Zarbadast. She will have to escape from the palace there, for they will track her and claim her life if she disappears in any other way. In Zarbadast, she would have the best chance of an untraceable escape.”
    “Do you know how she will find her way back to Aemogen?” Telford asked, his voice quiet.
    “I am figuring it out.”
    “Ah.” The old courtier went under the water a moment then came up, sputtering water away from his face and wiping his eyes. “So, you’ve no intentions,” he said, looking like an old sheepdog enjoying a bath, “of keeping the queen there for yourself?”
    Basaal flushed and let out a breath. “No. Why do people keep insinuating that?”
    “Rumors,” the courier replied, combing back his thinning hair with his fingers. “Thayne said the two of you were quite close on the battle run.”
    “I believe we had developed a close friendship,”