The King's Blood

question.
    “Seribina?”
    “Ma’am?” the Tralgu woman asked.
    “Could you go fetch us some water?”
    “Of course, ma’am.”
    But she’s your chaperone , Geder thought, then bit back before he could say it. He was going to be alone with a woman. A woman of high blood was clearly arranging things so that she could spend a few minutes alone in his house with him. He felt the first insistent stirrings of an erection and ground his lip hard between his teeth to check it. The Tralgu woman moved for the door, as calm and stately as a ship in the ocean. Geder was torn between the impulse to let her leave and the one to call her back.
    The issue was taken out of his hands.
    “My lord,” the master of house said, appearing at the door just before the Tralgu reached it. “I am sorry to interrupt. Sir Darin Ashford has arrived and requests a moment of your time.”
    “Ashford?” Sanna asked. The surprise in her voice made her sound like a different woman, and a more serious one. She looked at Geder with less coquetry and greater respect. “I didn’t know you were entertaining the ambassador.”
    “Favor,” Geder said. Words seemed difficult to come by. “For a friend.”
    The perfect skin went smooth. Geder had the sense—possibly accurate or possibly imagined—that some complex calculation was happening behind her deep black eyes.
    “Well,” she said. “I can’t keep you from affairs of state. But say again that you’ll come to Father’s party?”
    “I will,” Geder said, rising to his feet as she did. “I promise. I’ll be there.”
    “I have witnesses,” Sanna said with a laugh and gestured to the servants. She gave her hand to him again, and Geder kissed it gently.
    “Let me see you out,” he said.
    “Why thank you, Baron Ebbingbaugh,” she said, offering her arm.
    They walked together from the back of the mansion to the wide stone stairs that led down to her carriage, an old-fashioned design drawn by horses instead of slaves. Geder gave her up to the care of the footmen with a bone-deep regret and also relief. Sanna stepped up and let herself be seated behind a cascade of lace. The smell of rose and musk returned to him, but it was only an illusion or a particularly visceral memory. The horses clattered out to the courtyard. He looked past them to Curtin Issandrian’s empty mansion and a sense of unease trickled down his spine.
    “You play a dangerous game, my lord,” an unfamiliar voice behind him said.
    The man was a Firstblood with pale brown hair and an open, guileless expression. He wore riding leathers and a wool cloak entirely covered in patterned embroidery that seemed understated until Geder looked at it closely, and then seemed like a boast. Geder didn’t need to be told who he was. Sir Darin Ashford was his own introduction.
    “My Lord Ambassador,” Geder said.
    Ashford nodded, but his gaze was set farther out. To the courtyard.
    “Lord Daskellin’s girl, isn’t she? Beautiful woman. I remember when she first entered society. She was all knees and elbows back then. Amazing the difference three years will make.”
    “She was here to deliver her father’s invitation,” Geder said, defensive without knowing precisely what he was defending against.
    “I’m sure she was, and she won’t be the last. A baron without a baroness is a rare and precious thing, and protector of the prince carries as much prestige as a wardenship. Maybe more. You’ll have to step clever or you’ll find yourself married before you know who you’re married to.” Ashford’s smile was charming. “Is the prince here, by the way?”
    “He’s not,” Geder said. “I thought it was poor form to have him too close to hand when you were here.”
    Something like chagrin passed over the ambassador’s face.
    “Well, that doesn’t bode well for me. It’s hard to ask for your help when you already think I’m an assassin.”
    “I didn’t say that,” Geder said.
    “No, you acted on it,” Ashford said. “And that, Lord Protector, very much matches your reputation. Should we retire inside?”
    Geder didn’t take him back to the same room. Having the voice and face of Asterilhold in the same room where Sanna Daskellin had been felt like dirtying something Geder didn’t want soiled. Instead, they went to the private study where Feldin Maas had killed his wife Phelia and all his elaborate, clandestine plans to join Antea and Asterilhold with her. The significance was lost on Ashford, but