King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (13 page)

Siv had planned to make a grand entrance. He had prepared a speech about how he wanted the duelists to be comrades in arms and how he would lead their city with justice, wisdom, and mercy in exchange for their loyalty. He’d planned to tell the duelists to come to him if they ever needed help for their families or if they had ideas for the betterment of the kingdom. He wanted to inspire their love and respect by showing them respect in turn. It was sure to be a magnificent speech. Unfortunately, Lady Tull had been hanging on his arm from the moment she arrived, and he couldn’t burst onto the balcony lest he accidentally knock her over. The duelists didn’t even notice when he appeared. Why were people always ruining his dramatic entrances?

Dara and Berg put the duelists through their paces: rapid footwork drills, a hundred lunges, parry work with partners. Then they divided into pairs for a round robin of bouts, and the pure music of blade against blade filled the hall. The athletes looked great, and Siv would have had fun analyzing their diverse dueling styles if Tull didn’t keep interrupting his thoughts.

“These are all professional athletes?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“But you’re recruiting them for your Guard?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t they need to spend a lot of time preparing for their competitions?”

“Yes.”

“How often will they—”

“They’ll be on short shifts, except when I need the full Guard for outings and festivals,” Siv said quickly. “In exchange they’ll have room to train, a place to live, and all the equipment they need. They’ll continue their usual competition circuit as long as a certain percentage of the Guard is on duty at all times. We’re signing a larger number to account for the other constraints on their time.”

“I see,” Tull said, though she didn’t sound particularly interested. Siv leaned forward and put his elbows on the balcony, hoping she wouldn’t have any more questions.

Dara wore her white competition jacket, and she rotated in to the bouts with the rest of the duelists. He hadn’t seen her lose yet. When she swept off her mask after yet another victory, her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Damn, she looked good. And she had just beaten that Telvin Jale fellow. Even better.

“Your Highness,” Tull said in his ear. “Do you wish to go for a walk about the castle grounds? It looks like they’ll be doing the same thing for a while.”

Siv ran through several choice retorts in his head before saying, “Of course, my lady. Please let me escort you.” He tried to catch Dara’s eye to wave as he left the balcony with Lady Tull, but she was too busy talking to burning Telvin Jale.

Siv had to work very hard indeed not to scowl as he and Lady Tull left the balcony for a stroll around the courtyard.

Dara smiled as she shook Telvin’s hand. He wasn’t bad. A little rusty, perhaps, but she wasn’t surprised that he had been quite good in his youth. He could be a real asset to the new team. Assuming he proved trustworthy, of course. She was taking a gamble: he was the only person she had asked to join the special dueling division of the Guard whom she hadn’t known for years. She was glad to have so many of her friends here, though. And she finally got to duel again!

She surrendered her spot on the strip to young Dell Dunn and strode across the dueling hall to speak to Oat, who chatted with Luci Belling while they waited for their turn on strip.

“Hey Oat, Luci.”

“Dara, this dueling hall is brilliant,” Luci said. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I know,” Dara said. “Do you think you’ll join the Guard? You’d get to practice here every day.”

“This and the chance to live in the castle and be paid for my time? Dara, how could I say no?” Luci smiled happily. She had just turned eighteen, and her father was a bridge carpenter. If she hadn’t earned a patron, she likely would have had to quit dueling to marry or perhaps get a job in a shop. Coaching fees didn’t come cheap, and it would be years before she had a shot at a major prize purse.

“How about you, Oat?”

“If Luci wants to do it, I’m in too,” Oat said.

“Oh?”

“Sorry, Dar, you haven’t been around as much, so you probably haven’t heard.” Oat put his long arm around Luci’s shoulders. Her cheeks turned bright pink. She barely came up to his chest, but they looked sweet together.

“Oh! Congratulations.” Dara smiled at her friends, happy to see that some people were finding joy at least. “It’ll be good to have both of you around the castle.”

“What about Kel?” Oat asked. “I thought he was going to be here.”

“He didn’t think his sponsor would be too keen,” Dara said. Kel’s sponsor was none other than Bolden Rollendar. She had gone to see Kel separately after talking to Oat and the others at her old school. But that was a conversation she would not repeat to anyone, even the king, for now.

Dara glanced up at the balcony. She had avoided looking at it for most of the training session. It annoyed her too much to see pretty little Lady Tull whispering in Siv’s ear while she was down here sweating away on the dueling floor. The balcony was empty. Siv hadn’t even bothered to stay until the end of practice. She told herself it didn’t matter. She was just happy to be dueling again.

Dara was stepping up to the strip for a bout with Oat when the doors to the dueling hall flew open.

“Sorry I’m late!” sang a familiar voice, and Vine Silltine sailed into the dueling hall. She wore whimsically embroidered trousers and carried a green velvet gear bag. Her dark hair fell in voluminous waves around her shoulders. She sighed happily and looked around the dueling hall as though she’d designed it herself.

Dara waved for Yuri to take her place against Oat and strode over to Vine. The other duelists around the hall took off their masks to watch them. Dara and Vine had become well-known rivals a few months ago.

“Vine,” Dara said, nodding formally.

“Oh, Nightfall, it’s so lovely—I mean dreadful to see you. I hear this is where an elite new team of duelists is meeting.”

“Who told you?” Dara asked.

“That’s for me to know.” Vine touched her nose with a finger lacquered in Firegold. She had hinted at hidden sources before, and it annoyed Dara to no end that Vine always seemed to know what was going on before she did.

“You missed the speech,” Dara said, “but this is a serious undertaking. We’re not training for the tourneys.”

“Yes, that’s what I hear. We are to protect our dashing young king with our wits and our steel against any threats that may arise. I think it’s glorious.” Vine smiled around at the duelists. Some of them had gotten back to work, but most stared blatantly at her. Yuri combed his fingers through his red beard, not quite hiding a grin.

Dara took Vine’s arm and tugged her into the corner by the weapons rack, farther away from the nearest pair of duelists.

“Vine, you’re a noble lady. You can’t join the Castle Guard.”

“I rather dislike being told what I can and can’t do, Dara,” Vine said breezily. “I won’t have you all participating in this very serious training camp without me. The nobility will have to understand.”

“This isn’t a training camp,” Dara said. “We’re preparing to protect the king.”

“Excellent. Cross-training is the way to become a well-rounded competitor. I believe it will improve my creativity in the duels if I train with real danger in mind.”

“But we—”

“You want this to be serious. I know. My dear Dara, you must remember that I know a lot about what goes on in this city. I hear whispers on the wind that could prove useful. You want me around.” Vine smiled and began dancing lightly on her toes to warm up.

“If you’re so useful, maybe you can tell me who might be plotting against the king.”

“Now, now, Dara. My information is valuable.” Vine dropped into a lunge, a miraculous feat considering how tight her embroidered trousers were, and looked up at Dara through long eyelashes.

“Fine,” Dara said through clenched teeth. “You can train with us, but I can’t have you on the official Guard.”

“You’re no fun at all.” Vine pouted prettily. “Very well, I shall only join for the training.”

“And the information?”

“There are many ifs and maybes among the nobility,” Vine said. Dara started to speak, but Vine waved at her to be quiet. “I will tell you when I hear more, but suffice it to say that the houses are divided and undecided. Our
dear
king may yet win them over.” She slid down into the splits and smiled. “I
can
tell you that a certain Warden of the Fire will be loyal to the Amintelles until his dying day.”

Dara wiped a trail of sweat from her forehead, trying to cover her surprise. She expected Vine to know what the nobles were gossiping about, but she’d never imagined Vine would vouch for Zage Lorrid.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m always sure,” Vine said. “Now, do invite me directly next time you concoct a scheme like this. I thought we were friends.”

Vine didn’t wait for an answer before sweeping around the room to greet the duelists as if they were an army of her fans. Dara half expected her to give out tokens. Luci and Tora Feln, the only two women apart from Dara, rushed to greet her like eager hatchlings. At least two pairs of the men forgot to resume their bouts as they watched Vine strut around the hall. Berg had to bark at them to pay attention.

Dara tried to ignore the distraction. She made the rounds of the hall, speaking individually to each of the duelists to confirm their commitment to the cause. Well, except for Errol and Tora. The siblings, both robust with nut-brown hair, clearly came as a pair, so she spoke to them together. By the end of the training session, Dara secured a pledge from each of the duelists to defend the royal family. She hoped they truly understood the potential danger. As they left the dueling hall, already talking about packing their belongings to move into the barracks, she wasn’t sure they fully understood how serious this was. But it was a start. She had her team.

12.

House Zurren

NOT
long after the new division of the Castle Guard started training, Siv received an invitation to a different kind of dueling event. House Zurren was hosting an exhibition match between Murv “The Monster” Mibben and Kelad Korran. To his mild surprise, King Sivarrion Amintelle was listed as the guest of honor on the invitation. He had completely forgotten he promised to attend the match. It had been postponed after his father’s death, but the mountain was slowly getting back to normal. It would be Siv’s first appearance at a large social gathering since he became king.

The Zurren family’s white marble greathouse sat at the edge of Thunderbird Square in Lower King’s Peak. It had a grand terrace overlooking the square and a broad portico lit with Fire Lanterns. When Siv arrived with Pool and an older Castle Guard called Yeltin, palanquins already gathered outside the house. Lords and ladies disembarked and milled around the portico, and laughter drifted from the second-floor balcony, where more guests braved the crisp evening air.

“My king! Your presence does me great honor!” Lord Zurren flung open the doors and descended the steps to offer Siv a deep bow. An obsequious young man of around thirty, Lord Zurren wore a fine coat embroidered with Firegold and a tall pair of boots, also edged in Firegold.

“Thank you, Lord Zurren. I’m looking forward to finally seeing Murv the Monster in action.”

“He will not disappoint, Your Majesty. Please come in. We are serving our very best wine from beyond the Bell Sea.”

“Say no more,” Siv said. “You’ve already made me a happy man.”

Lord Zurren bowed and waved for an attendant wearing Zurren house colors to hold the door for Siv and his guards. Pool and Yeltin watched their surroundings with stony faces as Siv adjusted his crown and strode inside.

A massive front parlor stretched the full length of the greathouse. Judging by this and the terrace above, the Zurrens had built the house for entertaining. The actual living quarters must be set into the mountain at the back, with no room for windows. Siv wondered if the Zurrens lived here at all when they weren’t having parties. If memory served, their primary holdings were a pair of mines over on Village Peak. He should have invited Sora along. She would know for sure.

Lord Zurren snapped his fingers, and a servant appeared with a goblet of wine for the king. Others circled amongst the guests, offering platters full of soldarberry tarts, salt cakes, and tiny slivers of baked apple drenched in thick caramel. The guests talked and drank, filling the parlor with a pleasant buzz.

Chairs arranged across the parlor floor faced a dueling strip marked out on the tile. The featured duelists were nowhere in sight, but most of the guests had arrived before Siv. When they noticed the king’s entrance, they rushed toward him, compliments and commiserations on their lips.

“Good of you to come out this evening,” Lord Tellen Roven said. He was a large man, and his voice carried over the others’. “You wouldn’t miss a good party, would you?”

“Of course not,” Siv raised his goblet. “How are your wife and daughter?”

“Oh, same as ever. My Jully misses your sisters. We hope you and the princesses will come for a meal now that you’re out and about again.”

“We’d love to,” Siv said.

“Your Highness, how is the wine?” Lord Zurren inquired, trying to recapture his attention as the other lords jockeyed for position around him.

“It’s superb, Lord Zurren.”

“Your Majesty.” An elderly noblewoman with more wrinkles than a cullmoran elbowed in front of Lord Zurren. “Do visit House Farrow when you have time. The apple harvest is almost in, and it’s high time we had a royal visit.”

“Of course, Lady Farrow.”

“Don’t forget, House Nanning, Your Highness,” called another lord. “The goats are particularly plump this year. Make the best pies you’ve ever tasted.”

“I will surely take you up on your invitation, Lord Nanning,” Siv said. He drank deeply from his goblet, and a servant materialized to refill it, expertly forcing his way through the throng of well-wishers. “I hear you have plans for a few exhibition duels of your own this winter.”