The Dawn Star (22 page)

“I'll go with the envoy,” Tumbler said. “Cobalt trusts me.”

“But I don't,” Jade said flatly. The last thing she needed was a Chamberlight officer taking Drummer to Cobalt.

“The way to Aronsdale is swarming with Chamberlight men,” Sphere-Colonel Ravensford said. “If Colonel Tumbler doesn't go with the envoy, you've no chance of getting through.”

“It's also swarming with Jazidians,” Slate countered. “If anything happens to the Headwind boy, it could infuriate Cobalt. Saints, man, it will look as if we are taunting him.”

“I'm twenty-eight,” Drummer said, exasperated. “Hardly a boy.”

Fieldson exhaled, and Jade could guess his thoughts. If they tried to send Drummer to Aronsdale, he could be killed or captured. If they
didn't
send him, she couldn't announce the betrothal. Without the betrothal, they couldn't stop Cobalt from attacking Taka Mal. Jade didn't want Drummer to go. She didn't want to see his life endangered. She would die first. Unfortunately, she couldn't wait with the betrothal, either.

Baz turned a hard stare on Jade. “What I want to know,” he said, each word slow and distinct, “is why you are having clandestine meetings with a Harsdown general.”

Jade blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She frowned at her cousin. “I have no flaming idea what you're talking about.” In her side vision, she saw Leo Tumbler turn red. She supposed in the Misted Cliffs they spoke with more restraint. Fieldson kept his face composed and slightly puzzled. Not only was he a strong commander, he was also a good actor.

Baz braced his palms on the table and leaned forward. “I heard it from your guards. You met with Fieldson in your study.”

“Oh, that,” Jade said, thinking fast. Damn Baz. He learned too much of what went on in this place. He couldn't know about Drummer, though, or he would never sit there even this calmly.

“Drummer had just woken up from his illness,” Jade said. “I wanted the envoy to know.”

“They said you talked for fifteen minutes,” Baz challenged.

“Possibly. I didn't keep track.” In an unfriendly voice, Jade added, “Perhaps you have better things to do with your time, cousin, than to spy on me.”

Baz clenched his fist on the table. “And I would hope you had better things to do than socialize with enemy generals.”

Fieldson spoke quietly. “General Quaazera, I asked after Drummer.” He was doing a superb job of portraying the carefully controlled ire of someone trying his utmost to show tact in the face of absurd suspicions. “We thought he was going to die.”

Baz started to answer, then mercifully thought better of it. Drummer had nearly died trying to escape, and if Baz intended to push Fieldson, he would have to answer for that.

Baz sat back and crossed his arms. “What if Drummer stays here,” he said to Fieldson, “and you go to Cobalt with a contingent of officers, one third Taka Mal, one third Harsdown, and one third Misted Cliffs.”

Tumbler straightened up, and Jade could see he liked the idea. As the ranking Chamberlight officer, he could vouch for the envoy's safety better than anyone else in this explosive room. It was an excellent idea. Except it wouldn't
work.
The envoy had to talk to Jarid, not Cobalt. If Cobalt intended to invade Taka Mal, the last thing he would want was an alliance between the Houses of Quaazera and Dawnfield. She could almost feel Sphere-General Fieldson searching for a plausible reason to resist the idea. He had told his Harsdown officers about the plan because they would be guarding Jade, but she doubted he had revealed anything to Tumbler.

“It just might work,” General Slate said.

Jade almost groaned. Why did Slate, usually the quietest of her generals, have to choose this moment to speak? He was the one she could most rely on to keep an even temper, but at the moment that was no help.

“It's a stupid idea,” Firaz stated. “What if some hothead attacks the envoy and murders Fieldson? Killing the commander of the Harsdown military is a hell of a lot worse than killing an itinerant minstrel who happens to be related to Cobalt's wife.”

Drummer scowled at Firaz, and Jade wished her generals would show more tact. She could have hugged Firaz, though, for giving her an excuse to argue against sending the envoy to Cobalt.

“We have no wish for our honored guests to experience harm,” Jade said. “The safety of Goodman Headwind and Sphere-General Fieldson must be our priority.”

They all argued, of course. No one had a good plan. Listening to them, Jade knew what she had to do. She had hoped another possibility would present itself, but she still saw no choice. Finally she rose to her feet, and their debate trailed off. Aware of everyone watching, she went to the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hall. The gardens outside blazed with fire-lilies and sun-snaps that created the effect of a sunset.

Baz spoke behind her. “Jade?”

She turned around. “We have another matter to consider.” She suddenly felt tired. So tired.

“Well, out with it,” Firaz said.

Jade returned to the table and stood in front of her chair. She wished she could have seen just one female face.

“I haven't had my menses this month,” she said.

They stared at her blankly, all these warlords from so many places. She couldn't look at Drummer.

“Your what?” Firaz said.

“Her
menses.
” Spearcaster scowled at him. “You know. When a woman bleeds.”

Firaz turned red under his dark complexion. “What the hell kind of comment is that to make in the middle of a war council?”

“Firaz.” Baz was staring at Jade. “Shut up, General.”

“I'm never late,” Jade added. This was excruciating.

They looked as if they had no idea what to say. Firaz wasn't the only one who seemed confused. But not Baz. Oh no, not Baz. His face hadn't gone red this time: It drained of color. He rose to his feet, his fists clenched. Then, incredibly, he turned to Fieldson and said, “You saints-damned bastard.”

Fieldson's mouth opened. “You think
I'm
the father?”

“Father?” Firaz demanded. “
What
father?”

“For saints'
sake,
” Jade said.

Everything happened too fast. Baz lunged around his chair and Fieldson leaped to his feet. When Baz swung his fist, Fieldson brought up his arms, but at twice Baz's age, he barely managed to block the blow, and its force drove him back. Arkandy Ravensford, Jason Windcrier, and Leo Tumbler surged in to defend Fieldson, and Firaz and Slate were on their way from around the table, ready to launch into the fray. Spearcaster made an exasperated noise, sat back in his seat, and crossed his arms.

“Stop it!” Jade shouted. “All of you!” Drummer was looking at her, but she couldn't meet his gaze. Not yet. Not now.

They all stopped, but no one looked at her. They were too busy glaring at one another. Fieldson's gray-eyed stare had gone so cold Jade wondered it didn't freeze her hotheaded cousin. Spearcaster was still in his chair, shaking his head.

“Sit down,” Jade said sourly. “All of you.”

Fieldson turned to Jade and spoke with impeccable formality. “Your Royal Majesty, I apologize for the insult given to your name, to suggest I am the father of your child. I am flattered beyond belief that anyone would imagine you would bestow your interest upon my unworthy self, and I do hope the offense of that assumption has not gone beyond hope of repair.”

“I thank you for your gracious words,” Jade said. “You have given no offense.” She scowled a Baz. “I wish I could say the same for my relatives.”

“Vizarana, you go too far,” Baz told her.

“Will you all please sit the hell down?” Jade said.

Spearcaster snorted, and the visiting officers reddened. Jade suspected their war councils didn't have this much excitement. No one was paying attention to Drummer, and she avoided his eyes.

They did all sit, though. The room simmered with hostility. Fieldson caught her eye, and though he gave no outward sign, she understood his message. They were there for her protection.

Jade spoke wearily. “General Fieldson is not the father.”

Spearcaster leaned one elbow on the arm of his chair. “Let me guess. You are twenty-three days late.”

A chill went up her back. How could he know? Mica, the midwife, had just told her this morning.

“Where the blazes do you get that number?” Firaz demanded.

Spearcaster continued to watch Jade. “A woman gets pregnant halfway through her cycle. Fifteen days. Thirty-nine minus fifteen is twenty-three. And thirty-nine days ago, the Atajazid D'az Ozar came here and proposed to our queen.”

Slate thumped the table. “No wonder he brought his army to our door. We must have the wedding immediately.”

Baz's words exploded out before Slate finished. “Saints, Jade, I don't
believe
you let him touch you. Not only was it a loss of honor, you also lost your most powerful bargaining point. Now you have to give him the beetling Topaz Throne.” He hit the arm of his chair. “The throne should stay with the House of Quaazera. You and me.”

Jade hated discussing her private life this way, but she couldn't put Baz off. She spoke with a gentleness few people ever saw from her. “Cousin, I love you like my life. But as my kin. To marry you would be like marrying my brother. I could not.”

“That may be.” He looked neither stunned nor upset by her words. “But it would have been better than seeing our House bow to Onyx. To get his help now, it must be on his terms.”

“Not necessarily,” Slate said. “She can negotiate. She carries his heir, after all.”

“Oh, stop, all of you,” Jade said. “It isn't his damn heir. I never let Ozar touch me.”

Everyone blinked at her, even Fieldson, who did a remarkable job of looking puzzled, and Ravensford, who managed a reasonable facade of confusion. Jason Windcrier only looked uncomfortable, but as the lowest-ranked officer, he wasn't getting much notice from the others.

Jade finally summoned the courage to look at Drummer. His expression melted her heart. He was radiant, his eyes full of warmth. One might have thought she had just given him the wealth of the eleven deserts instead of news that could bring his death in any number of violent ways.

“Hell's fire,” Baz said, watching them. “Tell me that what I'm thinking is wrong.”

Slate spoke dourly. “Perhaps you might tell us what you're thinking.”

Jade knew she had to prepare them before she revealed her explosive news. She sat down and spoke in formal tones. “The House of Dawnfield rules Aronsdale. They are bound by the treaty signed by Escar and Dawnfield. But if Cobalt conquers Taka Mal and Jazid, what will stop him from violating that treaty and attacking Aronsdale? Even the combined armies of Harsdown and Aronsdale couldn't stand against him if he added our forces to his own.” From what her spies had told her, Jade thought only one thing could have stopped Cobalt the Dark, something forever impossible now—the words,
Well done, my grandson.

“If the atajazid and I form a union,” Jade said, “then we might defeat Cobalt. Perhaps then
we
would turn on Aronsdale.”

Slate raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't aware we were planning a campaign against Aronsdale.”

“If you were them,” Jade said, “what would you think?”

Fieldson spoke. “It has only been nineteen years since Varqelle invaded Aronsdale and tried to kill Jarid's family. I doubt he is ready to form an alliance with Varqelle's son.”

Baz was having trouble breathing. “Jade, you can't do it.”

“Do what?” Firaz asked, irritated. “This is a war council of riddles.”

Baz never took his gaze off Jade. “If you try this, I will have my officers drag you to the temple and marry you myself.”

“I would take care,” Slate said, “before you pledge your officers to committing treason.”

“Hear her out first,” Baz said. “Then tell me that.”

Spearcaster focused intently on Jade. “You want an alliance with Aronsdale, is that it?”

Jade started to answer, but Slate cut her off. “Surely you can't mean
Prince Aron
fathered your child. He hasn't visited here in years.”

“Besides,” Leo Tumbler said, “he is only eighteen.”

Firaz snorted. “It's no wonder all you people in the Misted Cliffs are so constipated, if you think eighteen is too young for a man to want a woman.”

“General Firaz,” Jade said, exasperated. “Enough.” To all of them, she said, “I wasn't referring to Jarid's son Aron.”
Just say it.
But she couldn't get the words out. So she took a deep breath, stood up, and walked to Drummer's chair. He watched her with a luminous expression. She sat in the chair next to his and took his hand. Then she spoke softly. “I am sorry. I would have rather told you any way but this.”