10. Drums of War

Rahn had been staring at the drafting page for the better part of an hour. He'd focus on one constellation until his eyes blurred the lines into an ink-smeared puddle, then move on to another, making no meaningful progress. Mostly he was trying not to pay mind to the nervous giggles coming from the other room, where Aesylt and Niklaus were reading through the coitus curricula. Niklaus had arrived nearly an hour after Rahn's testy conversation with Aesylt in the courtyard, and he seemed in no hurry to leave.

He mopped his brow and tried again, but the waning sun's glare was blinding. He debated moving his work into another room, but they'd be called to supper soon enough.

A guard opened the door. Rahn looked up and saw Teleria walk in. She closed the door and bolted it behind her.

With a defeated sigh, he set his charting aside and smiled. "Let me guess, you're going a little mad as well?"

"A little?" Teleria made her way over. Her unusually modest skirts were bunched in her hands as though she were wearing a ballgown. She was a striking woman, a decade his senior but as beautiful and youthful as her daughter. She'd taken him under her wing when he was orphaned, but it was more like having an older sister than a mother. Over the years, that bridge shortened, until they became friends and confidants.

"Anything new?" he asked, hopeful.

"Nothing you don't already know." She lowered herself onto the chair opposite him. "Drazhan is still holding them back from the gates, but that doesn't exactly inspire ease, now that we've seen how determined the Barynovs are."

"Any further riots?"

"The same small pockets as before."

Rahn nodded. "And Tas? Has she... Did she depart?"

Teleria's cool expression soured. "About an hour past."

"You're still angry with her for leaving."

Teleria arched a brow. "So were you, as I and half of Fanghelm recall."

He hadbeenangry, but he was also the only person who knew Tasmin's full motivations for traveling to see Lord Marius Quintus in Whitechurch. To those in Imryll's sphere, Quintus was the man whose actions had nearly killed her, and had inadvertently led to King Torian's demise. If Drazhan ever saw the man again, he'd breathe his last. Everyone knew it, including Quintus, who had unsurprisingly made no attempt at a persistent role in Imryll's life.

But to Tasmin, he was a potential ally in a war far bigger than the skirmishes and threats incited by the Barynovs, one that was on hold but far from over.

The trouble was, Quintus was a mercurial, perilous man who was just as threatening when on their side as he was on the opposition. Even if he agreed to hear Tasmin's plea, the price for his aid would be more than anyone should have to pay.

"I said what I felt I needed to say. She didn't take my words well, and I knew she wouldn't, but I had to try." His eyes traveled toward the closed door, but he caught himself before Teleria could note it.

"You know people are talking about it. If you don't want others to think you're courting her, acting like a jealous, spurned lover in the courtyard might not be prudent."

Rahn bristled, shifting in his chair as he again tried to ignore the strange laughter coming from the other room. "I have no control over the thoughts or suppositions of others, nor any presumption of my ability to persuade them from their chin-wagging."

Teleria's eyes narrowed slightly, and she turned in her chair. "Are we going to pretend you're not solely drawn to whatever is going on in that room?"

Rahn conjured a dozen denials in the time it took Teleria to return her gaze to him, but she knew him too well. He settled on a half-truth. "I wish I'd pushed back when Imryll asked me to take over for Jasika. I'm feeling... concerned for Aesylt and her, ahem, eagerness to work on it. She's young, unmarried?—"

"She's only a year younger than Imryll, and the Vjestik don't hold court over purity standards like Duncarrow does, but go on."

He frowned in annoyance. "You're missing my point."

Teleria waited with a patient smile, which left him even more disassembled.

"She's a very apt student and takes our research more seriously than anyone else in the cohort, sometimes even more than I do." He continued with more caution, choosing each word knowing Teleria would dismember them for meaning. "And I fear she's going forward with these experiments because she feels accountable for the future of this effort."

Teleria uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. She cast a look at the hearth, one he recognized and had been hoping to avoid. "While she has the stubbornness of her brother, and a touch of his impulsiveness, she is more deliberate in her thoughts and actions. And I can tell you, Adrahn, that there is no affliction women despise more than being thought unable to make choices for themselves. If she and Niklaus are both consenting and in clear understanding of what they're going to embark upon, then your worries will only breed unnecessarily. They may even compromise the work itself."

Rahn sat back. He hadn't considered the matter in quite those terms. It was possible Aesylt wanted to explore intimacies with her friend, in a safe and controlled environment, but the prospect left him surprisingly troubled. "I see. Thank you for that perspective."

"Just don't let Drazhan find out. All the man's Vjestik sensibilities take flight when his wife and sister are concerned." Teleria's eyes rolled. "But if the research keeps Aesylt from running off again, I see it as a positive for all involved."

Niklaus's tongueslipped over hers for the seventh time. He wasn't as smooth of a kisser as Val, but the firm tug of his hand at her lower back was oddly arousing. Each kiss had been more demanding, less clinical. She recalled the instructions on some of the more advanced levels in the prospectus, about making sure she was "ready" to receive him. With enough kisses like that, she might be, but that was a problem for another day, because he would need to leave soon.

Niklaus pulled back, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth with a broad grin. "Well, we've conquered the kisses, I'd say."

Aesylt grinned through a hot flush in her face and neck. "Should we work on our notes then? While our thoughts are fresh? This is different than our usual work, when we can revisit it over and over if we forget to note something... Though, I suppose we could revisit our research here as well, if we needed to, but we have so many topics to work through, we'll never get to them if we have to keep going back to refresh our notes. I think it's especially important to differentiate between how the first kiss felt and the last, because both are relevant, yes?" Her rambling stopped when she caught him adjusting the bulge in his trousers. She launched into a discomfited search of the room. "Where did you put the notes?"

"We could do that..." He glanced away.

"What?" Aesylt pulled her sleeves over her hands, precipitously more anxious than she'd been before the first kiss of the day.

"I need to get back before supper." His teeth brushed his bottom lip, his stare traveling to her chest and then lifting abruptly. "I think we should make the most of the time we have left."

"What did you..." Aesylt's gaze shot to the window, the setting sun. The tingle between her legs turned to a buzz. But it wasn't Niklaus she was thinking of, nor was it who she'd been imagining for the past hour. "Have in mind?"

He chewed the inside of his mouth. His hands twitched at his side. "According to the rules, we have to start simple and work our way through the more... challenging topics. We've already completed the easiest one, at least once our notes are done, but the next step or two don't seem to require much preparation."

"Tak, and?" Aesylt felt each blink, every prick of heat dancing across her flesh. But kisses were trivial. Everything else on the list would be further than she'd ever gone with anyone.

The thought of Rahn one room over, listening, was the most exhilarating of all—the most damning.

"Lie back, Aes." Gone was the boyish gentleness of her childhood friend. His irises flared, reminding her of a wulf watching from the forest. "And I'll show you. You don't have to do anything except focus on how it feels. We'll do our notes right after, so we don't forget."

She swallowed the dry thatch in her throat with a stilted cough. Suddenly, she understood. He wanted to continue their lesson on kissing, but it wasn't her mouth he had designs on. "Oh. Oh. You want to... You want to do that now? Isn't this skipping a step?"

"Do you not?" The fire in his eyes dimmed slightly. He looked embarrassed. "I know we're supposed to try fondling first, but I've heard women enjoy that more when they're already..."

She understood what he was trying to say, but she could find no response.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I was only thinking of our schedule and trying to work in as much as we can when I'm here."

"Nien, nien, you're right. Of course you're right." Aesylt nervously fumbled with the stays of her dress, her fingers skipping atop the fabric, unable to take hold.

"You can leave it on if you like." His throat jumped as his eyes traveled downward, then back toward hers. "I can... Your gown is simple enough for me to work around."

"All right." Aesylt backed up until she connected with the bed. She looked across the room, stalling, but Niklaus's patience broke her daze. Planting her hands, she hoisted herself up and scooted back until she could lie back against the pillows. Her heart pounded so hard, she felt it when she breathed, when she swallowed. She'd been the one insisting the science could come before everything else. If she let her weakness take over now, they'd never finish. She'd never prove to herself she could be an objective academic.

There were few people she trusted as much as Nik, she reminded herself.

Niklaus climbed up on all fours. His hesitation was short-lived and then he was bunching her dress up and over her waist, exposing her undergarment to the chill in the room. It happened so fast, she'd had no time to reconcile the look in his eyes, the lust burning there, and the understanding he intended to bury his face in her nethers.

He rocked back on his heels and started tugging on her undergarment but paused. "You're sure?"

Aesylt nodded, lying to herself and him. But it was another man's tongue she imagined rolling around her privates. Another man's hands hooked around her thighs as he tugged her taut to his face.

"I... Ancestors, you're so..." He reached a finger forward, barely swiping the fabric, but it was enough to send her ass clenching and her eyes rolling back. The press of his finger to his mouth was almost too much. Scholar, she thought, and nearly came.

"What does it... taste like?"

Niklaus shook his head, his eyes cast to the side in deep thought. "I don't know exactly, like nothing I've ever tasted. I'll need more to decide."

Aesylt closed her eyes and drew a shuddery breath, waiting... tensing. Her heart raced, skipping and doubling beats. When Niklaus's hands skated across her flesh, traveling up her thighs, it sent a wicked shiver through her, and she sounded an involuntary shriek.

He went stumbling back with a horrified look. Aesylt started to explain herself, but the door slammed open, silencing her attempt. Teleria's oh dear was drowned by Rahn's heavy boots slapping stone.

Aesylt had never moved so fast in her life, scrambling first to pull her legs up, then to smooth down the fabric of her gown, which was embarrassingly difficult, bunched up underneath her in evidence of how quickly they'd transitioned from the innocence of kisses.

"Niklaus. Out." Rahn's voice had the forced evenness of a man struggling to control his pitch. Aesylt could barely register it in her horror, in the knowledge he'd seen her in such a vulnerable position. She felt all her truths were exposed, that he'd somehow know it was him she'd fantasized about when her eyes were closed. All she felt was the shame of one who had been so certain she'd known what she was doing but had been woefully wrong.

Niklaus raced out of the room, with one hand on his collar. Teleria's brows shot up as she turned and followed.

The door clicked closed.

Aesylt itched to escape to the celestial realm. Her flesh tingled, readying, but Rahn's tense shoulders, lifting with each hard breath, ripped the air from her lungs. In the silence, she died a dozen mortifying deaths and made twice as many guesses as to what he was thinking, what he would say next. Whether he'd address what he'd seen, and why he'd sent Niklaus away.

Strain lined the edges of his jaw. His mouth opened, but no words followed. His eyes darted everywhere but at her, enough that he couldn't hide the intention of his avoidance.

"We should talk about this," he said. "But I find myself at a loss for words."

"Scholar..." Aesylt slid off the bed and started toward him, but he flinched, so she stopped. "I?—"

Rahn held up a hand, as though surrendering to something. "I know you're trying to save this project. And I respect your commitment. But..." His hand traveled to his throat, scratching at stubble. "Even you believing it's your responsibility means I've failed you."

"That's not true." Aesylt rushed over, despite the command in his eyes for her to stop, to keep her distance. "Everyone else is gone now. It's up to us. Not you, both of us." Her words tumbled out in a messy gust. "You may not see me as a partner, but that does not change my own feelings on the matter. There is no one else anymore."

"Aesylt."

"There is no one else!" She threw up her hands with a shaky inhale. "Tas is gone. Elara has taken a leave. Val is... I don't know what Val is, but no matter how all this ends, he's never coming back. But Niklaus is still here, and he wants to help. You said we must include work done within the cohort, conducted by approved researchers, whose names are on record with the Reliquary."

"Aesylt."

"I'm going mad in here! I'm housebound, fighting everything inside of myself not to rush off again, try to fix this. I had nothing to do with what happened to Val, and yet I am forbidden from seeking the truth and putting this matter to rest. And all the while a war brews, in my name." Her heartbeat soared so high, she felt dizzy, but she couldn't stop the confession from rolling out of her. "The only thing I'm allowed to do is our research, and if the skies are too cloudy for astronomy, that leaves one thing. One thing! And since you're not capable of creating the separation between lust and science, then it is on me and on Nik?—"

Rahn seized her by the shoulders, stilling the rest of her passionate monologue. "Aesylt. I'll talk to Imryll."

Her turmoil faded to suspicion. "Imryll? And say what exactly?"

"Maybe we can work on a third project on the cloudy days. We could... We could even help Jasika finish coastal patterns."

Aesylt threw her head back and laughed. "How many bandages are we going to slap on this wound?"

"Will you give me until tomorrow?"

"You keep dancing around this issue, when there's really only one way through, isn't there?" Her pulse picked up again, sending blood rushing back to her face.

"Tomorrow. Please?" His eyes burned her, pleading harder than his words. How could he show so much concern for her choices but still fail to see her? To see she was right in front of him, ready to face a world of learning and adventure?

She didn't understand him. Trying only hurt more.

"I don't even know what I'm agreeing to." She twisted out of his grip.

"Take a pause on the research for the night. We'll go down for supper soon and then night will be here before long."

"And who could eat when we are on the brink of war?" Her nose flared, her cheeks on fire. "Fine. Fine! Go."

He exhaled his relief. "Thank you. Tomorrow?—"

"Go!" Aesylt yelled, putting her entire chest into it. She didn't think of Teleria, whose suspicions would be undeniably raised, nor the guards, always listening. All she could process was the need for the man in front of her to leave before he turned her to dust.

"Very well." He backed up slowly. Even in his retreat, he wouldn't look at her. "I'm going."

When he was out, she firmly shut and latched the door behind him, waiting until she heard his reluctant footsteps recede. Certain he was gone, she dropped in a crouch, placed her head between her knees, and exhaled the horror of the past minutes.

The drumming began justafter dusk. Rahn heard the first roll of the ominous elegy as he escorted an icy Aesylt to the dining hall, her walking two paces ahead with an unnatural pinch in her shoulders. Her head cocked slightly, enough to confirm she'd heard it too, but she didn't miss a step.

Chanting joined the thrumming hymn as the table was set around them. Wearing a stricken expression, Imryll nestled Aleksy at her chest instead of in the infant seat beside her. Drazhan gripped his spoon and knife in opposite hands, staring across the table at nothing, at no one.

"Roast hare, sweetened tubers, and carrot pie." The kitchen maid blurted the words fast enough to break Drazhan's iron gaze and send it her way. She nearly tripped into her curtsy. "Enjoy." The girl rushed back to the kitchen.

"Delicious." Teleria regarded the spread with a slow exhalation. Her hand gently shook as she reached for the spoon to scoop her tubers.

More voices joined the wronged chorus at the bottom of the hill, but Rahn could no longer tell if they were still at the bottom or if they'd climbed closer. He had to put his trust in Drazhan's hardened men, who had orders to treat any encroachment as an act of war. But his mind kept traveling to dark places, where good men turned traitor under the right combination of pressures.

"Shh, shh," Imryll whispered to Aleksy when he broke out in tears. Her mouth brushed his head, her eyes glued on her husband.

"I can take him." Aesylt rose, but Imryll shook her head. "You need a break."

Imryll's refusal the second time was tighter, more harried. Aesylt slowly settled into her seat, but she didn't take her eyes off her sister-in-law.

The drums and chanting escalated, loudening. The windows rattled.

Aesylt's fingers traveled to her neck.

Rahn's hand twitched against his leg. He clenched it into a fist before he did something errant, like allow it to migrate from his leg to hers in an imprudent attempt at comfort.

"Eat," Drazhan commanded, a lower, raspier edge to his tone. He dug deep for a throat clearing. "Duchess, so Tasmin left us a day early?"

It wasn't a question, no matter how he'd posed it. Drazhan had been heavily involved in her protection and transport out of Witchwood Cross.

"Mm? Oh, yes, she..." Teleria glanced across the table at Rahn, then turned toward Imryll. "She felt it best, under the circumstances. Didn't want to be another person for you to waste precious guards on, and?—"

Aleksy's sharp wail cut her off.

"Well, she just thought it best."

"It's not a waste," Drazhan replied. "But she's free to do as she pleases."

Imryll's eyes were shot with red as she passed her chin softly along her son's head. Tasmin hadn't said good-bye to anyone except Teleria. And while there might have been some truth to Teleria's excuse, it wasn't the whole truth.

Aesylt's cold treatment of Rahn was related, he suspected, for as little sense as it made. His relationship with Tasmin was his business, and so was their argument earlier that afternoon.

A visceral, violent new song kicked off amid the sonorous humming. Teleria startled in her chair, mumbling an embarrassed apology. "Of course," she replied, nodding at her untouched food. Her spoon hovered above her plate.

Rahn turned only slightly toward Aesylt, but it was enough for her to return the tight, proud lift to her chin. Tension rippled down her lean neck, and he couldn't strike the horrible image from his mind of the purple swell in her flesh that night. The bluish tint to her lips as she'd struggled to stay conscious.

He repressed a sigh and regarded the food on his plate. Earlier he'd been ravenous, but all semblance of appetite had fled with the drumming and chanting. Imryll's plain fear, Teleria's jumpiness, and the unusual crack in Drazhan's steel nerves turned his empty belly.

Aesylt stabbed a tuber with her knife and slid it onto her spoon. She jabbed it into her mouth and chewed. A sour look flashed on her face but she persisted, her nose curling as she forced the food down her throat. Her arm shot out to her mug of ale, but she hesitated before sliding both hands under the table instead.

Rahn's pulse throbbed in time with the menacing beat. Sweat peppered his temples. Was Drazhan really not going to address what was going on outside? Everyone at the table was falling apart with each shift in tempo as it inched unmistakably closer.

Aesylt sucked in a sharp breath when her mug rattled.

Rahn's words caught before he managed them. "Drazhan, are we not going to speak of this?" Rahn pointed a hand toward the windows. "What's happening out there?"

"I'm aware." Drazhan's jawline could have chipped diamonds.

Rahn flipped his attention to Aesylt, incredulous, but her stare was as intense as her brother's. She pointed hers at the table's centerpiece, a solitary winter lily already wilting in its modest vase.

Imryll shifted Aleksy to her other shoulder. "Drazhan met with Esker again today. It didn't go well."

"Imryll." Drazhan turned toward her with an aggressive blink.

"We don't keep secrets in this house when they belong to everyone," Imryll said smoothly. "And your intimidation has exactly one effect on me, so I suggest saving it for a more suitable occasion than the supper table."

"Disgusting," Aesylt muttered, but she was still studying the dying lily with a glazed look. Rahn couldn't define why that unsettled him the most, even more than the drums and chants, but his sense of danger was tuned specifically for her. Everything inside of him was screaming to get her out of the keep, out of the Cross. "Met with Esker... Was that before or after we met, Draz?"

Imryll responded when Drazhan didn't. "After, Aes."

Drazhan's mouth curled. "We'll discuss it later?—"

Aesylt shot out of her seat. "No, Drazhan, we'll discuss it now. It must have involved me for you to be so cagey. Did he bring up the prospect of forcing me into a marriage with Marek again?"

Drazhan's shoulders rose and fell in strained, emphatic breaths. "Can we not enjoy a meal as a family? Is that an impossible ask?"

Rahn squeezed the edge of the table in his hands. "Marek?" He choked on the word but forced himself to say it again, to make Drazhan's revelation real so they could destroy it in the next breath. "Marek Barynov? There is no fucking way that's happening."

Everyone at the table turned to look at him.

Rahn dug his tongue against the roof of his mouth, praying the others couldn't see the river of rage within him. He flashed a thin smile and tried again, his voice a more reasonable tempo, but Drazhan's suspicion was back, fused in his brows. "Forgive my heated language. We're all still reeling from that night. I know you aren't giving the matter serious consideration."

Drazhan placed his hands on the table and leaned in. "Do I need to validate that with an answer, or can we move on?" He shifted a withering glance to his sister. "Will you sit down? Please?"

"I know you didn't agree to it because they're sounding the drums of war on our land!" Aesylt kicked her chair back. "So what was said, wulf? What roar did you leave in the man's ear that he is ready to march upon his own steward?"

"You know, I'll speak to the kitchen, have our meals sent to our rooms..." Teleria said, but Drazhan stayed her with a raise of his hand.

"You want to know what was said, cub? You want to know what I said to the man I once regarded as a father before he attempted to extort me?" Drazhan shoved his plate across the table. The clatter was the only sound until he spoke again. "I told him the deal was off. I don't accept his apology. I don't accept his meaningless posturing. I don't accept his son should meet justice in the hands of the law. The only fate I accept for a man who would put his hands on a woman's neck is for him to meet his end from mine."

Rahn's heart lighted with the same stone resolve, but it also sank in anticipation of what would come next. Drazhan's patience was shorter than springtide in the Cross, and the Barynovs had exhausted it.

Aesylt's lips peeled back. "Mine, you mean."

Flecks of red and orange lit up the night sky beyond. Rahn slowly pushed back from the table, but it was Teleria who put voice to the problem.

"Drazhan. Imryll." She flicked a nod toward the windows. "I suggest we calmly and quietly?—"

Everyone started at the sound of glass shattering. An echoing thud followed. Drazhan's sword was drawn before the incendiary could bounce once. Imryll screamed and leaped from the table, clutching Aleksy.

Rahn was up and behind Aesylt faster than all of it. She turned toward him, alarm widening her eyes.

"Fire!" someone screamed, from another part of the keep.

Drazhan ripped a tapestry from the wall and threw it over the firebomb. "Adrahn, get them to the gatehouse. Now!"

Rahn gathered Aesylt under one arm and beckoned for Imryll and Teleria with the other. He ushered them all out, set to the increasingly desperate nature of Aleksy's cries, rising in urgency at the same pace as the fevered bloodlust breaching their gates.

Aesylt rushed into the lead. In one fluid motion, she stretched a hand into her boot and withdrew a dagger. When she reached the first turn in the hall, she paused, breathless, and said, "Teleria, you come with us. Imryll, give me Aleksy."

Imryll paled. She crushed a hysterical Aleksy to her shoulder. "What? Why would you say that?"

"I can see it in your eyes. You don't want to leave my brother, I understand. And if he were thinking straight, he wouldn't want his probably pregnant wife and heir in the same place. So give me Aleksy, and we'll meet you both in the gatehouse."

"The gatehouse is just a meeting place," Imryll blurted. She squeezed tears from her eyes with a dazed look. "We're going to Fezzan's. Into hiding."

"Make a choice, sister." Aesylt's voice was clear as fresh ice. "But make it quick."

Imryll kissed her son and turned to look back. "All right." She passed him to Aesylt. "We'll be right there. Don't you let?—"

"I would never." Aesylt shifted Aleksy to her shoulder and brandished the dagger. "I would die before I let it happen, Imryll."

Imryll wiped her eyes, spared her son one final helpless glance, and ran.

"Give me the dagger," Rahn said evenly. He saw in her steeled gaze that she hadn't pulled it as a precaution. She wanted to hurt someone, and gods, so did he, but he couldn't fathom what might happen if she followed her instinct, as raw and wounded as it was. "Aesylt."

She met his eyes. "Do you even know how to use one, Scholar?"

"Aesylt, give it to him!" Teleria cried. "What if you trip? You're carrying your nephew."

"I know how to use one," Rahn said darkly. He saw the moment Aesylt recorded his unspoken truth, storing it for later. Would she ask him? Would he tell her? "Please."

She handed it over hilt first with an injured grunt.

No one had to say silence was necessary. Their harried pace carried them down one hall, then another. Rahn knew the way and still cursed every step, questioned every turn. The cries outside shifted to the zealous pitch of fresh battle.

Aesylt paused at the courtyard door. She peered carefully outside with a quick look in all directions, then gave Aleksy a kiss and tucked him into her neck as she raced into the night.

Teleria signaled the guards, who weren't surprised to see them. Fezzan Castel marched straight to Aesylt as soon as they were inside.

"Ah, cub," he said, with a crestfallen sigh. His eyes traveled toward Aleksy and then beyond the group. "This isn't everyone, is it?"

"For now," Rahn replied. The gatehouse was filled, shoulder to shoulder, with guards. Some wore the Wynter standard—a snarling wulf—the others the compass of the Castels. "You were expecting us."

"Was hoping not to see you, but I feared I would anyway." Fezzan traced his beard with a finger. "Drazhan and Imryll..."

"Are coming." Rahn verified the door was locked, and of course it was. Bolted. Three men stood before it, forming a drawbridge. "I cannot say when."

Screams filled the courtyard. None of them winced this time. Aesylt's dark, hooded gaze was jarring with the way she was whispering sweet assurances against Aleksy's reddened cheek.

Rahn continued. "We need to get them out of here before this escalates beyond our control."

"And you, Scholar." Fezzan sized him up. "You're going with them." He squinted one eye at Aesylt, who was trying to catch an outside view through the huddled mass of soldiers. "If she tries again what she did the other night, it won't end well, you understand? There's no sneaking about anymore, none that doesn't get her in a world of trouble."

Rahn nodded, his solemn gaze still locked on Aesylt across the room.

"Now Drazhan seems to harbor some inexplicable belief she'll listen to you, even after she slipped out right under your nose." Fezzan frowned in reproval. "So you're to stay with her at all times. I've arranged for you two to take my sister's apartments, second largest in Castellan. She joined the Ancestors in the sky last year and won't be needing them. You think you can handle her this time?"

"I can hear you, Fez," Aesylt said coolly, casting a look over her shoulder. "And I understand the situation. I don't require the scholar's diligence, or yours, to keep me from running off."

The windows rattled in their frames. Mail and leather shimmered as the guards tightened their formation in response. Rahn caught Teleria's anxious glance drilling him from the dense crowd of guards, but he had nothing to offer her worries. Fezzan and Drazhan might be unnaturally calm in the face of war, but that scared him more than a fevered response would.

"Good. Then I'll say no more." He offered her an apologetic smile and turned back toward Rahn. "I have to go join the steward now. My son, Uli, and our men will take things from here." He checked his sword belt with a grunt. "If the Ancestors are truly with us, this will be over soon."