Everything Tamas had ever fought for seemed suddenly so petty. Certainly, he strove for rank so that he could one day make a difference for the common man, but he battled primarily for his own gain and honor. In the end, he had nothing to lose but his life. This woman had so much more to lose and nothing to gain.
“Perhaps I’ve been wrong about the nobility all this time.”
Erika laughed. “Oh, you’re right about most of us. But there are a few who try to be better than what’s expected. My point is, neither of us would not have escaped had the guards on the Adran border not thought so much of you. You saved my life and hers, and that, ultimately, is why I sought you out.”
“I am … humbled.” Tamas took her by the hand, touching her knuckles softly to his lips, and wondered if he might, against all odds, be in love. It was a gut-wrenching, forbidden thought.
“Don’t be. I have never seen fire in the eyes of a man like I saw in yours the first time we met. You will do great things one day.” She looked down at her hands. “Now see, I just refused to have this conversation and here I am having it. I think that’s enough.” She leaned over and kissed him, and he forgot about the world for the next few minutes.
Tamas made a decision. He was not going to wait and hide, wondering if the cabal was hunting him, wondering if his life and career had been destroyed. The cabal be damned.
Tamas climbed to his feet and rubbed the stiffness out of his legs.
“Where are you going?” Erika asked.
“To see the king. He’s the only one who can call off the royal cabal.” Silently, he added, It’s the only hope I have to keep my life here in Adopest, near you.
“Is that a good idea?”
“No,” Tamas said. “Not at all.”
Tamas was shocked to find a messenger in the king’s colors waiting for him just outside the city with immediate summons from the king. Tamas was led east, skirting the walls of Adopest, straight toward Skyline Palace.
Tamas and his lone escort reached the palace by late afternoon, and Tamas’s unease deepened as they took the gravel drive that wound up the hill. He could feel the eyes of every royal guard on his shoulders, and he remembered realizing that they would do nothing if Duke Linz attacked him.
The guards, after all, were for the safety of the king. Not some commoner upstart. If they hadn’t been willing to step in against Duke Linz, they would not protect him from a Privileged.
Once they reached the front of the palace Tamas saw Privileged Dienne only a moment before she saw him. She stood outside the silver doors to the main foyer, arms crossed, jaw set, surrounded by a brand new cadre of guards. She looked none the worse for the wear of their battle, her hand likely healed by one of her compatriots.
Their eyes locked and her lip curled, and Tamas edged his hand toward his carbine only to remember that the guards had already relieved him of it. He braced for the inevitable onslaught of sorcery.
Nothing happened.
Dienne’s sneer turned into a cruel smile, and she watched as Tamas was led past. He turned in his saddle to look back at her, worried now about that smile. Why had she not come after him? What did she have planned?
The messenger led Tamas down the facade of the palace until they reached a small door where they dismounted. As he was taken inside he realized this was the first time he had entered the palace in daylight. And the first time they had taken him this particular way. Did either of those items contain any significance? Or were they mere coincidence?
He was kidding himself. The Iron King was still playing a game with his Privileged. One that would get Tamas killed.
Inside, he did not recognize the myriad of narrow servant’s passages that he was brought through until he was, once again, ushered into the Iron King’s billiards room.
Manhouch stood with his back to the fireplace, hands clasped, and fixed Tamas with a long, thoughtful look the moment he came through the door. Tamas thought it was the first time he had locked eyes with the king, and he felt a cold sweat break out in the small of his back.
Tamas had prepared a speech for when he had managed to bribe, bully, or fight his way into Manhouch’s presence. Now that he had been led in without incident, he had forgotten it all.
“Your majesty,” Tamas said, dropping to one knee.
“Stand up,” Manhouch said.
“Yes, my lord.”
Manhouch strode toward Tamas and did a quick circle. Tamas stood stiffly during the brief inspection. The king finished his circuit to stand in front of Tamas, studying his face for several moments before he returned to the opposite side of the billiards table.
“Captain Tamas,” he said. He shuffled through a number of documents spread out across the billiards table. “On your first campaign at the age of sixteen, you were commended for valor in the field on seven separate occasions, suffering eleven wounds in that campaign alone. On the next campaign, as a sergeant, you single-handedly ended the siege of Herone. As a lieutenant in charge of just thirty marksmen on special assignment you captured the town of Lukanjev and held it against two companies of Gurlish cavalry.”
“There are at least thirty letters here from infantrymen and non-commissioned officers whose lives you saved at one point or another. Commendation, commendation. Thirteen recommendations for rank advancement. Thirteen!” The Iron King flipped absently through the rest of the papers before finally throwing them down in apparent disgust. “Tell me, Captain, why are you not a general?”
Tamas guessed it was a rhetorical question, but answered it anyway. “Because I’m a commoner, sir.”
“That’s right. You’re a commoner. And my noble cousins would rather hang themselves with their own belts than take orders from someone of lesser birth.”
“As you say, my lord.”
“Nothing to be had for that at the moment, though,” Manhouch said, stepping away from the table. “Last night, you and the duchess-heir of Leora killed eight members of the cabal guard and wounded a member of the Adran royal cabal.”
How the pit did he know about Erika, Tamas wondered. He felt a surge of panic. If the king knew, the cabal might know, and Erika was surely in danger. “My lord, the duchess-heir …”
Manhouch cut him off. “I don’t really give a damn about the Leora girl. Privileged Dienne is not aware of her identity, and I’m not about to admit that I spy on my own cabal just to impart such a trivial bit of information. Now then,” he continued, “you did not have my attention before because you were a nothing more than a diversion. Something to annoy the cabal. But last night one of my spies witnessed your altercation with Privileged Dienne and saw you shoot her through the hand.” Manhouch barked a laugh.
Tamas did not see what was so funny. “It was instinct, my lord.”
“Instinct, when faced with a Privileged, is to flee. Instinct is to cower. You did none of those things.”
“Fleeing from a battle usually makes things worse.”
Manhouch nodded sharply. “Something that few people truly understand. Captain Tamas, you now have my attention.”
The question, Tamas asked himself, was whether he truly wanted the king’s attention. Tamas tried to consider where this conversation would go. The king wanted something. Otherwise Tamas would not be here. But what? He bowed his head. “My duty is to serve, your majesty.”
“Everyone’s duty is to serve,” Manhouch said. “Even I, king of Adro, live to serve my people. It’s the way of civilization.” He began to pace the room, clearly agitated. “But the cabal does not see it that way. They feel that they are above reproach, even from me. They need to be disabused of this notion.”
Tamas suddenly knew where this was going, and he did not like it one bit. Working moisture into his mouth, he repeated, “My duty is to serve.”
“You’re a remarkable soldier,” Manhouch said. “You may, if you survive the next few decades, one day make it to general. To do so you will need a powerful patron. One who doesn’t give a damn about who leads his armies, as long as they win their battles.” Manhouch stopped pacing and crossed the room to stand beside Tamas. “And I, Captain, need killing done.”