Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

73. The Price

We emerged on the floodplain of the Enzara River in the morning. By the time the welcoming procession intercepted us on the road to Idezza, the sun rose to its zenith. At a long last, Nirav stood before me in the flesh.

The sweet thing looked as if he might collapse under the weight of the gold-and-jewels on his collar and tunic. If there was a virgin patch of fabric left unadorned by a seed pearl at a minimum, I could not spot it... and it wasn't for the lack of trying. I nearly devoured him with my eyes.

He should have been grateful that the law forbade him from wearing the Ducal coronet. Despite the word 'coronet' bringing to mind an image of a light, elegant band, it was a massive contraption. Its fur lining reminded me of Ondrey's native garb. Perhaps Nirav's grandmother commissioned her coronet from the same artist who conceived the temple on the Piazza Divina.

"Welcome, Commander! The news of your glorious victory—"

Nirav stammered, his gaze transfixed by his lace cuff tied around my wrist.

'Yes,′ I wanted to say, ′believe it'.

This rusty-coloured rag was once a pristine strip of beautifully weaved lace. How do you think the soldier who wore it fared?

After the tiniest pause, Nirav cleared his throat and went on with his speech. However, the chirpiness had gone from his voice. A crease deepened between his brows as my hint, as small as it was, hit home: success came at the cost. Neither wine nor kisses would wash away the stains of war, though I yearned to try. Alas that it aged him, but he had to know.

The Duke dismounted to offer me Idezza's ceremonial fare: a drink of wine and a sliver of a freshly-baked flatbread.

After days on dry foodstuffs, I bit into the chewy pale circle with more gusto than the pageantry demanded, but only touched the wine to my lips. There would be no indulgences today.

"I'm sorry, Ismar. I couldn't have imagined... I didn't expect..." he whispered, tilting his head to meet my eyes.

"Truly?"

Bread tasted better when looking at him. I chewed diligently, delaying the inevitable. I had to speak, for the citizens of Idezza turned out in numbers along with their Duke. All of the seven crones came and plenty of the younger noblewomen. They were attended by a flock of the bejeweled husbands, preening and darting jealous glances from under their parasols. In short, Idezza's creme de la creme waited for my arrival in the midday heat.

I forced the last crumb down my throat and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. They didn't pay me for my manners.

"Thank you for the welcome, Duke, and Your Illustrious Graces," I said.

The cheers erupted from under the canvas that sheltered the welcoming committee from the sun. A gust of wind billowed Idezza's colors—red, black and gold—over their screaming heads.

"Idezza salutes Your Grandissima! We shall feast tonight!" Nirav squeezed my fingers taking the goblet from me. He repeated tonight in a husky whisper. A pleasant shiver tickled my loins—one more night together. Or a few more nights before Kozima arrived and made things complicated.

I cleared my throat. "The Deadhead Company is honored. We'll gladly celebrate our victory with our friends in Idezza, but tonight is a solemn night for us. The Company stands vigil for those who didn't return to the war camp."

The crowd abandoned their shelter to offer me their condolences. Nirav, engulfed, had to shout in the most unmanly way to be heard. "I request the honor of standing the vigil with the Company. The noble warriors of the Deadhead Company died in service of Idezza."