Komitopis shook her head, her long blonde braid swaying, and told Amaranthe, “I should have known I was in trouble back on Kyatt, when he asked if I’d packed my bow.”
To Amaranthe’s eye, the professor appeared more motherly and academic than athletic, so the admission that she had a bow was surprising. How well did she use it?
“Yes,” Amaranthe said, for Komitopis seemed to be expecting an answer. “That must have been a warning. I’m told men tell you to pack scented soaps and skimpy undergarments if they have romantic interludes in mind.” Though, she admitted, Sicarius would doubtlessly prove an exception there. No doubt, he’d suggest that romantic interludes should be punctuated with obstacle courses and knife-throwing practices. Though perhaps she should launder the “skimpy undergarment” Maldynado had foisted on her for the Suan costume. If nothing else, it would amuse Sicarius, and that was something that happened rarely.
You have to find him before you can amuse him, she thought. This mission would delay that. True, she didn’t know for certain that he was in trouble, or where to start looking for him, but if he was in trouble… she hated to abandon him.
“I fear the romantic interludes will have to wait a little longer,” Starcrest said.
“Yes, we finally get the children old enough to send off on their own-or to visit their Turgonian grandmother-and now you have five hundred soldiers toddling along after you.”
“We’re up to seven hundred now,” Starcrest said brightly.
“My bow,” Komitopis said. “Very well.”
“If you can thwart man-eating plants from the Lariat Islands and convince cannibalistic aborigines to run off down the beach, their tails tucked between their legs, I’m certain a few Turgonians won’t be any trouble.”
The statement-and the amused smiles of remembrance the pair shared-made Amaranthe quite certain that any fireside stories they might share would be riveting.
“I’ll ask Colonel Fencrest to send a couple of men with instructions that they follow your orders,” Starcrest went on, “and you’ll have Corporal Lokdon and whomever she’s willing to bring as well.”
Amaranthe was thinking about pointing out that she hadn’t agreed to go anywhere near the Behemoth again, but when Starcrest added, “Her team strikes me as eclectic and capable,” all thoughts of defying him evaporated.
“My team? You mean Books and Akstyr? Or have you met others?” And who that had impressed him so? Surely not Maldynado.
“A couple,” Starcrest said. “But mostly I talked to Sespian before he sat down at the table.” He waved at the wall-raised voices were audible through it. “As your comrade pointed out, he’s too young for me to have met before I left the empire, so I was curious to speak with him. He recounted his experiences over the last year, and you figured prominently in them.”
“Oh.” Amaranthe would have been curious to listen in on that conversation.
“I understand, among other things, that Sicarius works for you and not the other way around.”
Komitopis’s mouth dropped a centimeter or two at that statement.
Amaranthe cleared her throat. “Well, I come up with schemes, and he mostly goes along with them, because… it’s complicated, but he had his reasons.”
“Hm.” Another look passed between Starcrest and his wife.
Erg, Amaranthe had a feeling he was assigning her too much credit based on her command, if one could call it that-she wouldn’t-of Sicarius. They couldn’t know about all the tightrope walking she’d done in the last year to keep him going along with her schemes and how much of it had to do with Sespian.
“I don’t know where he is right now,” she felt compelled to add. “It’s been days since I’ve seen him. I can’t promise him as a guard for the professor.”
“I’m sure you and whatever men you can spare will be sufficient,” Starcrest said. “Tikaya can handle herself in a fight if need be, though I’d prefer she be allowed to study that ship without worrying about watching her back. She doesn’t, ah…”
“Doesn’t do both at once effectively,” Komitopis supplied dryly. “At all.”
Starcrest looked relieved that she’d said it so he wouldn’t have to. Remembering the way the professor had not noticed her husband’s entrance and subsequent conversation, Amaranthe could have guessed it on her own.
“With your team helping and protecting her, I’m certain you can take care of the ship,” Starcrest said, giving Amaranthe a single firm nod, then met his wife’s eyes. “And you should stop by the docks, too, and see if our other anticipated arrival has come in.”
Amaranthe barely heard the added comment. She was dwelling on his request and the fact that she’d accepted it so easily. Yes, she knew in her mind that getting rid of the Behemoth had to be the priority, but her heart… she wanted to go after Sicarius. He wouldn’t approve of her choosing him over Starcrest’s mission, though, and she knew it. And, independent of Sicarius’s theoretical wishes, she found herself wanting to prove that Starcrest was right, that she could take care of the professor and the ship. She wanted to earn the respect he’d thus far granted her, based wholly on what he remembered of Sicarius. And on whatever Sespian had said as well. How odd that Starcrest’s opinion should matter to her. She hadn’t read his books as a child. He had no true power here and certainly couldn’t offer her the exoneration she desired-earning his respect might be nice, but she shouldn’t fling herself at his feet in an effort to win favor. She ought to bargain for something; this was an opportunity.
Amaranthe lifted her chin. “I will help your wife, my lord, because what you want in this matter is what I’ve also been fighting to achieve, but… I would ask a favor in return.”
“Oh?” Starcrest did that unreadable expression well. Not so well as Sicarius, perhaps, but she wagered quite a few of his men had struggled to guess his thoughts in his command days. Or maybe they’d attributed great thoughts to him when he’d merely been contemplating lunch.
Professor Komitopis, on the other hand, had an open expressive face, and her lips quirked up at Amaranthe’s proclamation.
“I want you to help Sespian,” Amaranthe said.
Starcrest’s face remained guarded. “To reclaim the throne? I have not had time to fully assess the situation here. Putting aside his now questionable right to rule, I…” His brown eyes flickered toward his wife. “We aren’t certain a nineteen-year-old ruler would be best for Turgonia. When it was not my decision to make, and I was twenty years removed from the politics of the empire, I was content to let events unfold as they would, but if I am to have a hand in shaping the future, I should want to thoroughly consider where I place my support.”
The honesty was both appealing and alarming. Amaranthe appreciated that he didn’t have any interest in lying to her, but the notion that he might decide one of the lords general vying for the throne was a better candidate made her want to shout with frustration. Or maybe cry. Extemporizing, she said, “As it happens, I wasn’t asking you for that promise, my lord. That would be… if nothing else, a little out of scale in proportion to what you’re asking from me. But Sespian…” She glanced toward the door to make sure it was still closed, and nobody was standing at the window, staring in-Sespian might not appreciate her speaking so openly about him to a man who was, books and legends aside, a stranger. “It’s my impression-and he’s as much as confirmed it-that Raumesys was an indifferent and sometimes cruel father to Sespian. And Sicarius… who and what he is makes Sespian keep him at arm’s distance. Besides, it’s only been a couple of weeks since Sespian learned about that truth. What I’m saying is he has had people conspiring against him since he was born and very few friends or allies. I believe he’s of two minds as to what he should be doing, going forward, and I think he’d very much appreciate some friendly advice from someone who is respected in the empire and experienced in the ways of the world. You also seem sage and serene in the face of all that’s happening. Sespian could use some serenity in his life.”