“It might be something else,” Evanthya said. It might be something more. “He could have ordered you to send more men without even leaving his chamber in Solkara. Carden did it all the time.”
“I’d considered that as well. It may be that war is even more imminent than we’d thought.” He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, looking like a parent who worries over a wayward child. “In any case, First Minister, I want you to prepare the castle for his arrival. He may be regent in name, but in all ways that matter he is Aneira’s king. We must welcome him appropriately.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The regent had given them little notice, and for the next few hours, Castle Dantrielle bustled with activity. Servants scrubbed the walls and floors of every corridor and prepared the castle’s great hall for a feast. Soldiers polished their swords and helms under the watchful eye of the master of arms before gathering in the snowy ward to rehearse their formal reception of the regent. Men and women ran to and from the kitchens as the smell of roasting meat and baked bread drifted through the wards and hallways. Other laborers cleared snow from the stone paths in the castle courtyards. Like her duke, Evanthya had hoped that the weather might keep the regent from arriving when his message said he would-she would have liked another hour or two to ready the castle. As it happened, however, Numar reached Dantrielle just when his message had said he would, despite the wind and snow. The midday bells began to ring as the final touches were put on the great hall, and they continued to toll long after they should have stopped, announcing Numar’s approach to the gates of Dantrielle city.
Immediately the duke and duchess rode toward the main gate, with Evanthya just behind them. The introductions in the city would take some time, giving the underministers time enough to see to the completion of preparations.
Tebeo’s worries still obviously weighed heavily on his mind, but the duke did seem pleased by the work his servants had done during the morning. As they rode to the gate, he favored Evanthya with a rare smile.
“Well done, First Minister. I wouldn’t have believed we could be ready in time.”
“Thank you, my lord. All who serve you worked quite hard this morning. I had only to direct them.”
The duchess turned at that, smiling as well, snow clinging to her black hair. “I, of all people, know what it is to direct them, First Minister. You’re to be commended for what you accomplished today.”
Evanthya inclined her head, accepting the praise. “You’re too kind, my lady.”
Word of the regent’s visit had spread through the city and in spite of the wind and cold, the people of Dantrielle had already begun to line the city lanes to greet him. Seeing their duke and duchess now, the people cheered. Just as they crossed through the marketplace in the center of the city, Evanthya heard horns blowing from the gate. Numar had reached the city walls. The three of them spurred their mounts to a gallop and came to the gate just as the heralds concluded their flourish.
Numar sat atop a white horse, his cloak-red and gold, lined with black fur-caked with snow at the shoulders. He had thrown back his hood so that his wheat-colored hair was stirred by the icy wind. He wasn’t as broad as Carden had been, or even Grigor, and his face was too kind and youthful to make him appear truly formidable. But there was a simple elegance to his every move, a grace that his older brothers lacked, the two who had died as well as the one who remained. He looked like a king, and something in his manner told Evanthya that he thought of himself as such. That could be a dangerous thing in a regent.
“Lord Renbrere,” Tebeo said, swinging himself off his mount and taking a step forward. He bowed to the man. “Be welcome in Dantrielle. Our city, and our castle, are offered for your comfort for as long as you choose to honor us with your presence.”
Tebeo had often told Evanthya that he depended upon her memory for names when it came to greeting nobles from other courts, but in this case she would have failed him; she had been ready to call the regent “Lord Solkara.’ That title, however, belonged to Numar’s lone surviving brother, Henthas, who, as the older of the two, inherited the dukedom from Grigor. Because of Henthas’s reputation for ruthlessness, however, the other dukes of Aneira had not trusted him with the regency and had turned to Numar instead. When Carden, the oldest of the brothers Renbrere, was still alive, Grigor and Henthas had been known as the Jackals, Numar as the Fool. In the turns since, Numar had proven himself a thoughtful, intelligent man. But Henthas, the new duke, still appeared to be every bit the Jackal.
“Lord Dantrielle,” the regent answered, dismounting in turn. “It is you who do me the honor with this most gracious greeting.”
He stepped to where Tebeo stood and the two men embraced.
Glancing up at the rest of the regent’s small company, Evanthya saw that Pronjed jal Drenthe had come as well. This surprised her, thought she couldn’t say why. Pronjed had served as archminister under Carden and continued to serve the kingdom in that capacity. It wouldn’t have been at all unusual for a king to bring his minister on such a journey, but at least nominally the archminister served Kalyi, the young queen. Evanthya couldn’t help thinking that the minister belonged with her rather than with Numar, and once more she was struck by the degree to which the regent seemed to consider himself Aneira’s rightful leader. In point of fact, Tebeo enjoyed greater status in Aneira’s courts than Numar. He was a duke, while the regent, by grace of his birth and his position in House Solkara, was only the marquess of Renbrere. But Numar’s appointment as regent changed everything, bestowing upon him power and rank that had nothing to do with bloodlines. He was, in essence, a creation of Aneira’s Council of Dukes, one who now controlled a vast army and great riches, the like of which even the realm’s most powerful dukes could only dream.
The archminister was watching her and she nodded to him, feeling vaguely uncomfortable even as she made herself smile. It remained to be seen if Numar controlled this man as well. Fetnalla trusted Pronjed and had built something of a rapport with him during the days just before and after Carden’s funeral. Evanthya, however, thought him dangerous, perhaps even a traitor. At each of their previous encounters Pronjed had given every indication of disliking her and now he nodded to her in return, but his expression did not change. A moment later he returned his gaze to Numar and Tebeo.
The formal introductions went quickly, both men hurrying through them to escape the storm. In a short while they were riding back through the city to the castle, acknowledging the cheers of the men and women who lined the city streets.
After the horses of the regent’s party had been left in the able hands of Dantrielle’s stablemaster, and the small contingent of Solkaran guards was housed with Dantrielle’s men, Numar and Pronjed accompanied the duke and Evanthya back to Tebeo’s chamber. The wood in the fire had been replenished, and the room glowed with a bright, warming blaze. Numar and Tebeo took the two large chairs by the hearth, while Evanthya and the archminister remained standing, Pronjed near the duke’s writing table, she closer to the fire. Pronjed was watching her again and Evanthya, uncomfortable under his gaze, tried to keep from glancing his way.
Two servants were placing food and hot tea on the low table before the two nobles, and a strangely expectant silence enveloped the room. Once the servants were gone, Numar leaned forward and took a sip of his tea. Then he sat back, smiling at the duke.
“You’re wondering why I’ve come.”