To Bind in Blood

Chapter 7

They did not remain in Sardin for long. The day after the meeting, they prepared to head back to Quelle, where the Great Lord would take some time to make his final decision after consulting his father and the council of lesser lords. Judging from the way he had been when they spoke before, Wrell suspected the decision was already made and the rest was just a formality . . . or an excuse to prolong giving the empress an answer.

Her senses trained on the sights, sounds, and smells around her, Wrell walked close to Jurion as they headed to the courtyard where their horses would be waiting, packed and ready for the ride home. She heard Resi before she saw her, the horse's whicker carrying over the wall. Jurion's mare—Wrell couldn't remember the name—joined in.

"It's so warm out," she heard one of the soldiers, Liyem say. He held his arms out as if soaking in the sun, marveling at its strength. The heat was greater, but the breeze was also stronger. Beyond the courtyard walls and the city, the water of the Western Sea shone bright, the choppy waves visible even from far away.

"Too hot, if you ask me," another soldier replied with a glance at the Viannic guards walking with them. "I couldn't stand living in this heat. Boils, I would give anything to be back in the snow again. Nothing like a good blizzard to refresh you, eh?"

"Well, I suppose you've always been a cold-blooded fellow."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Laughter rippled through the group, but it was only a temporary relief from the cloud of unease that had been hanging over them since they crossed into Viannic territory.

"I would not trade Quelle's mountains for the finest Reman blade," Commander Odair put in, "nor its people for the riches of the Viannic Empire."

"But what if it's a Blairmoth horse?" someone said, and someone else cackled.

"And what say you, Great Lord?" asked Liyem. He was more shrewd than Wrell had realized; how Jurion responded might give insight into his answer to the empress's proposed marriage alliance.

She knew the Great Lord had caught on by the wry smile he gave the soldier. "The warmth is pleasant," he said, drawing raised eyebrows, "and at last I can feel my fingers and toes. The city is indeed beautiful, and its proximity to the coast is quite convenient. But it is not home, and that is where I would like to be as soon as possible."

Their group quieted when the courtyard came into view. The horses were tied in a long row by the wall, but there in the center of the large enclosed yard was a figure, one that made Wrell straighten. The empress, surrounded by a group of hounds that swirled around her like water as she moved toward them. Her clothes were more fitted for war than diplomacy. Gone was the sweeping tunic-gown she had worn the previous day, and in its place were pants tucked into rugged boots and leather shoulder pauldrons over a white shirt speckled with red. Was that—blood?

Wrell heard the soldiers around her murmuring until the empress reached them and the customary greetings were exchanged. The dogs hung back, panting with teeth glinting in the sun, their attention fully trained on their mistress.

The Empress Vian offered a smile that seemed out of place with her current state. "You will all forgive me, I hope. My training this morning took a messy turn."

"You are well, my lady?" Jurion asked politely. "Uninjured?"

"Yes. Though others are not so fortunate."

A rather cryptic remark, and one Jurion didn't care to decipher by the looks of it. He hid it well, but Wrell could tell the empress sparked in him nothing more positive than distaste.

"Empress." General Aelider came into view, dragging a man with him. The captive's hair and clothing were rumpled, blood running from his nose to his chin and an eye and cheek dark and swollen. The general shoved the man to his knees in the middle of the clearing. "I caught him lurking about, waiting for you."