Shadow Weaver (Back on 抖阴社区 2020!)

Chapter 31

"If Prince Jakut introduces me to the Red Court as Lady Mirra of the House of Tersil, Lord Strik will hear of it," I say.

"Yes. Which is why I ask if you are sure of the Prince's affection?"

"What is your advice, Your Royal Highness?"

"That you ask him to leave you and your kinsmen in Lindy. You are an intelligent girl so I will not condescend to your inexperience or youth by hiding the truth. You know of the assassination attempt against the Prince. And now it seems the Prince has aligned himself with Lord Strik. These are unsettled times. The innocent often end up suffering the most."

"Aligned himself?" So the Duke and I have come to the same assumption.

"Lord Strik recognized Jakut. They have met before."

"But anyone who has been to the Ruby Court would recognize the Prince."

"King Alixter did not allow Lord Strik to set foot in the Red City. If Jakut holds you close to his heart he will grant you this request and desire to protect you. And if you are confident of his feelings, you have no need to fear the influence of the Lady Calmi."

But Jakut will never grant such a request. He cannot.

"He needs me," I say, though the Duke may take my refusal to listen to his advice as an insult. "I cannot abandon him."

Roarhil stares at me until the heat rises through my chest to my face and my hands start to prickle. I curtsey. My back foot slips on a rock. "Excuse me," I say, stumbling and turning. Then I stride back to the camp.

I reach the fire where Tug and Brin slurp soup from bowls.

"What was that about?" Tug asks.

I slump down near them, brushing hair from my eyes with my sleeve.

"Deadran would be disappointed. All that effort he went to to get you to behave like a lady."

I glare at Tug, then straighten my spine and shoulders. The cook, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, and the youngest of the Duke's soldiers, arrives.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mirra," he says, handing me a bowl. "No time for the hunters to bring back meat today."

"It is fine. Thank you." He blushes and bows and hurries back to serve the Duke who passes our fire, ignoring us.

"He is not pleased with you," Tug says.

"Where is the Prince?"

"Commander Fror has him sequestered away in the main tent. They are planning which way we should approach the Red City to avoid the King's army—now serving the Queen's orders."

"I bet the food's better in there," Brin adds, watching the Duke enter the main tent.

I take a spoon of the over-spiced grain. It burns my mouth and makes tears come to my eyes. Tug passes me a cup of water. After I've gulped it all, I put down the cup.

"Lady Calmi," I say, "the young woman the Prince wished to defy his father for and marry, has a grandfather, Lord Strik. Naturally, Strik desires their marriage. If he hears the Prince's favour now lies with Lord Tersil's daughter, the Duke believes he will try to get rid of me. He wants me to stay away from the Ruby Court."

Brin splutters on his broth, flings aside his bowl, and pushes to his feet. "If I die guarding Mirra," he mutters, "I'm gonna kill you, Tug." He stomps off towards soldiers gathered at a nearby fire.

"So that's why the Duke introduced you as his niece," Tug says. He stares at me until it is awkward, then strange, then annoying.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"An apology? Well, that certainly paints a silver lining on what I rate as the second to worst day of my life. The day I met you being top of my list, of course. And what are you sorry for? Shooting my father and leaving him to die, kidnapping my brother, blinding us, beating me up, selling Kel or selling me to a Prince who's going to get us all killed?"

Tug's face doesn't shift a muscle. "It is important you make Jakut understand just how dangerous Strik is. The King's dethronement and the Prince's return provide Strik with an opportunity for power he will not let slip through his fingers."

I think of the deathly coldness in Tug's attitude when he introduced Lord Strik as the man who stole Baron Tye Keylore's lands. His lands. Tug's face and name have changed, but I do not imagine he was ever the sort who would accept an offence of this magnitude without declaring war.

"What happened between you two?" I ask.

He stares at me again until I want to fidget. "You are too old for your years, Mirra. Even for an Uru Ana."