Gate to Kandrith (The Kandrith Series) (11 page)

Lance led Wenda over to Marcus and gave him a hard look. “You’ll keep my sister safe?”

Lance had saved Marcus’s life at the falls, Sara realized. And now he was calling in the favor.

“I don’t need a watchdog,” Wenda said firmly. “As competent as I’m sure you are,” she added, smiling at Marcus. Apparently, her hostility was reserved for the nobility.

“I’ll see her safe, I so swear,” Marcus said loudly. He looked not at Lance, but at Wenda, his gaze appreciative.

And then it was time. Julen, Sara, Felicia and Lance all approached the Gate. The dark gorge looked forbidding.

“Felicia, why don’t you go first?” Lance suggested. He slung a small bag over his shoulder.

“Wait!” The gatekeeper hobbled forward on his cane. Lance scowled at him, but the man kept talking: “There’s one too many of you. You’re only allowed one companion, not two!” From the triumphant blaze in his eyes, he thought he’d caught Sara trying to sneak something past him.

Sara supposed, in a way, she had. Her father had told her she’d be permitted only one companion, but she’d hoped her maid wouldn’t count.

“So which of them is it, girl?” the gatekeeper demanded. His eyebrows bristled like caterpillars crawling on his face.

Sara’s heart sank at the thought of leaving Felicia behind. They’d almost never been separated since the day Sara’s father first gifted her with the cuorelle. She would miss her fiercely.

But even if she hadn’t needed Julen’s skills, she feared bringing a cuorelle into Kandrith would be an insult. “Julen,” she said.

Her answer pleased no one. Julen’s green eyes burned with frustration—apparently her hesitation had raised his hopes, even though he ought to have known better.

Felicia’s expression was more controlled, but Sara winced at the disappointment—and anger?—in her thinned lips and flaring nostrils. Sara would have to send her to Evina with Rochelle, and Felicia had never gotten along well with Sara’s aunt.

And Lance… His expression took Sara aback. What right did he have to look at her so accusingly, his brown eyes full of furious, bitter disappointment?

Wenda rounded on the gatekeeper in anger. “Hiram, what were you thinking? She’s a slave.” She pointed at Felicia. “She’d have been free on the other side if you’d just kept your mouth shut!”

The old man seemed to shrink. “A slave? But she’s not barefoot, and her dress looks new…”

“They got two of mine that way,” Lord Giles said to Sara. “I should’ve warned you they would try to pull the same trick on you.”

Sara gave him a distracted nod, her true attention on Lance. It dawned on her that he’d planned to free Felicia all along, that this was what they’d been discussing behind her back.

Obscurely hurt, she looked Lance dead in the eye. “I find your gatekeeper rude. If this is the reception I am to expect in your country, explain to me why I should even enter.”

Although her primary mission was to discover the secret of slave magic, Sara had every intention of being a true ambassador. As such, she couldn’t allow them to treat her with disrespect. Her reasoning was sound, but in her heart Sara knew she was also stalling. The thought of entering the Gate filled her with dread. She wished she
could
take offense and return home.

Lance’s brows lowered. He looked formidable. “You have to go.”

“Oh?” Sara raised her eyebrows.

For a moment, their wills locked. Sara was burningly aware of Lance. Of his breath coming slightly fast, of his tensed muscles, like cables of steel beneath his clothes. He seemed to give off more heat then he should.

“You will go,” Wenda said, her voice full of cold rage. “Even if I have to drag you by the hair.” She and Hiram moved closer to Sara, which in turn made Marcus put his hand on his sword.

Lance’s brown eyes never left Sara’s face. “If you don’t enter Kandrith, it means war.”

Sara wanted to roll her eyes. No apology, no attempt to placate her, just blunt-as-a-club consequences. “We were speaking of courtesy,” she said firmly. “I have a title—”

“Yes, Lady Sara,” Lance said, stone-faced.

Sara felt a flare of irritation. After all the effort she’d spent thawing him out, she wasn’t going to let him freeze her with
Lady Sara
. “Not that title, my other one. I am the Republic of Temboria’s ambassador, just as you were Kandrith’s ambassador. I would deserve respect for that alone even if I were a drooling idiot.” Sara resisted glancing at Lord Giles.

Lance frowned, as if considering her words, but Wenda’s face didn’t change expression. “Stop trying to fancy it up,” she said roughly. “You’re not an
ambassador,
you’re the Republic’s Child of Peace.”

Child of Peace. Her father had mentioned that phrase, but— Sara frowned. “I thought Child of Peace was your title for ambassador. Do they mean something different?”

Wenda laughed, then choked off the noise. “I’m sorry. I mean, yes, of course, they mean exactly the same thing.”

She was lying. A bubble of fear rose inside Sara. “Lance?”

His lips compressed.

“Don’t tell her,” Wenda said urgently.

But he shook his head. “She will bear the risk, just as we do. She deserves to know.”

“Know what?” Sara demanded, her throat tight. Everyone was staring at her.

Lance laid his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Child of Peace is a misleading title. In truth, you are a hostage.”

“You’re taking me hostage?” Sara asked, incredulous. Marcus was standing only five paces away, frowning. Sensing his tension, his outriders began to close ranks.

“Nobody’s taking you hostage,” Lance ignored Marcus and spoke directly to Sara. “You are voluntarily giving yourself over to Kandrith as a hostage, just as my sister and I take turns being Kandrith’s Child of Peace.”

“And what does that mean?” Sara asked carefully.

“It means that if war breaks out you’ll be executed,” Wenda said.

“Executed? Even though I won’t have done anything wrong?”

“Yes,” Lance said. “And no, it won’t be fair or just. It’s not supposed to be. You’re innocent, and the innocent die in wars.”

Sara started to protest—accidental deaths were hardly the same as an execution—but Lance shook his head sternly. “Be quiet and listen. What do you think war is about?”

“The conquest of one country over another for the gain of lands or riches or for revenge,” she defined irritably.

“You’re wrong.” Lance stared at her as if trying to burn his opinion into her. “War is about death. It’s about people killing other people to gain lands or riches. You nobles have forgotten that. After all,” Lance said bitterly, “it costs the Primus nothing to go to war. He has legionnaires to fight for him. His friends and relatives don’t die. The war always takes place in some distant country the Primus may never even have set foot in. The Republic’s towns aren’t burned, their citizens aren’t slaughtered, their crops and homes aren’t destroyed, leaving them to starve.”

Was that why Lord Favonius’s estate had been burned? To show the Republic what war could bring?

“Too often in the past the Republic has invaded Kandrith on a whim,” Lance continued. “The Child of Peace sets some small price on war. The death of one innocent.” The fire faded from his eyes, replaced by kindness. “If your father loves you, you have nothing to fear.”

Sara knew her father loved her, and yet she did fear. Lance didn’t understand how unstable her father’s Primacy was. If Claude’s father, General Pallax, used his Legions to take power, he wouldn’t care a whit for Sara’s life.

“Your father should’ve told you all this before we left.” Lance looked angry on her behalf.

Sara shook her head. “He doesn’t know either. Primus Vidor died unexpectedly without heirs. He didn’t tell him. Unless you did?” Had her father thought she would refuse to go if he told her the truth? The possibility ate at her gut.

“No, I was denied an audience. I left a number of messages with various undersecretaries.” Lance paused to cough. “Frankly, I was surprised when I was told that I and the new Child of Peace would be leaving so suddenly.”

Her father never would have sent her if not for the Favonius massacre.

Fear chilled her. As an ambassador she’d felt she had some power, some ability to do good, but a hostage had no power. She was just a lever to ensure her father’s good behavior.

“Lady Sarathena?” Marcus made her name a question. If she but said the word he would fight.

Sara briefly closed her eyes, ignoring the Gatekeeper hovering at her elbow. What she’d learned hadn’t truly changed anything. Ambassadors always bore the risk of being held hostage; she’d known from the beginning that the same might happen to her. The threat of another massacre like the one that had occurred at Lord Favonius’s estate still hung in the air. She and Julen still needed to discover the secret of slave magic and to do so she must enter Kandrith.

And perhaps having her as a hostage, so close to hand, would make Sylvanus safer.

“Very well then,” she said with strained composure. “I will pass through the Gate voluntarily.”

The tension eased from the air.

“May I ask how long will I remain your country’s guest? A year? Two?”

Lance dashed that faint hope. “Until your father is no longer Primus. Unless there’s someone you can trade off with, like Wenda and I do.”

“I have a brother, but he is too young yet.” Sara took a deep breath. Five years, minimum. It felt like a jail sentence.

A sudden shout attracted her attention.

“She’s escaping!” Lord Giles raised his arm and pointed. While they were talking, Felicia had drifted closer to the Gate. Her head came up in panic. She lifted her skirts and started to run the last twenty feet.

Sara glared at Lance. When he’d put his hands on her shoulders so tenderly, he’d turned her so that her back faced the Gate.

“Shoot her! Shoot her!” Lord Giles urged.

The outrider closest to him lifted his crossbow. He shot, but the bolt went high over Felicia’s head, thwacking into the mountainside.

“Stop!” Lance roared and charged the legionnaire while he was reloading. Suddenly two other crossbows pointed at Lance.

“No! Everyone hold your fire!” Sara grabbed Marcus’s arm. She groped for a threat severe enough to stop him from doing his duty.

“Stand down!” Marcus barked, and the crossbows were lowered with alacrity. Most of the legionnaires had spent the past two weeks flirting with Felicia.

“I said, ‘Shoot her!’” Lord Giles grabbed the nearest loaded crossbow. The outrider made a move to check him, then stopped, helpless. He could not touch a noble without earning a whipping or worse.

Sara was under no such constraint. When Lord Giles lifted and aimed the crossbow with an easy motion that spoke of Legion training, Sara placed herself in front of him. She wanted to slap his face, but she made herself smile bewitchingly instead. “Please don’t. I ordered Felicia to pretend to escape so that I might have both her and Julen to serve me in Kandrith,” she lied.

Felicia vanished inside the Gate.

Lord Giles sighed and looked superior. “She’ll betray you. You should’ve let me shoot her.”

Just how a dead cuorelle was supposed to be better than an escaped one, Sara didn’t understand. But she didn’t argue.
Always agree with a man
, Aunt Evina had taught her. Sara plastered a worried frown on her face. “Oh, dear, do you think so?” She leaned forward and let him see more cleavage.

The arrowhead dug into her flesh. If this fool accidentally shot her, she was going to haunt Felicia. Lord Giles stared at her breasts, mesmerized.

Then Lance reached them. He pushed Sara back with one hand and forced the crossbow up with the other.

“Let go,” Lord Giles demanded. His face turned red.

“No.” Lance jerked the crossbow free and tossed it to its owner.

Lord Giles began to scream abuse. “Barbarian! I’ll have you arrested! I’ll have you flogged!”

Lance listened to the threats, unmoved. Sara noticed that Lord Giles didn’t make any attempt to hit Lance. A wise decision on his part. Lance was obviously itching to pound him into the dirt.

“So it was just an act then.”

Sara looked up and saw Wenda. “What?”

“Your order not to shoot. You just wanted to make sure your property wasn’t damaged.”

Rage choked Sara. “Felicia is like a sister to me.”

Wenda snorted.

Sara clenched her hands into fists. “Think what you will.”

She walked away and beckoned Marcus close. She repeated her lie about Felicia’s escape being on her orders and added, “You will tell my father this. Felicia’s family has only two links left on their slavechain. I do not want them punished for this.”

“I’ll see to it,” Marcus promised quietly.

“Thank you.”

Lord Giles was still ranting when Lance simply walked away.

“It’s time to go.” He hugged Wenda one more time, then turned to Sara and Julen. “Which of you would like to go first?”

The words were perfectly polite, but it was clear to Sara that Lance meant to be last. He likely did not trust her to go at all otherwise.

Her chin lifted, but before she could prove him wrong, Julen caught her arm and pulled her aside, his expression grim. “I mislike this, Lady Sarathena. It smells like a trap, but I can think of no excuse to refuse. I’ll go before you, to spring the trap if I can. Flee at my cry. The outriders will protect you.”

Sara’s throat felt tight as Julen disappeared into the darkness. She was reluctantly impressed with his bravery. For once, there had been no mockery or flirtation in his voice.

Sara strained her ears for the next several minutes, but heard nothing. All she saw was the dark opening and the looming mountain that seemed to shut out all possibility of escape.

At least, she tried to tell herself, the Qiph would have equal trouble following her into Kandrith.

The gatekeeper cleared his throat. “It’s your turn.”

Sara stared around wildly. Lance waited with his arms folded. She felt a strong aversion to entering the Gate, especially without an armed escort. She seized on an excuse. “What about my trunks? I need someone to carry them.”