The captain returned in a candlemark with six armed men to lead them to their horses for the ride into the city. He stood before Vahanian, fists on his hips. Vahanian's eyes narrowed and he spat just shy of the captain's boot.
"You will be taken for questioning," the captain announced. "Cooperate, and no harm will come to you," he advised. "Get moving."
They spent the night under heavy guard at another outpost, and woke at dawn for the ride into Principality City. The roadway grew wider, leading to the castle. Merchants and beggars moved aside to let them pass. They reached a heavily gated entrance in the base of the castle, and as they entered, the massive iron portcullis creaked back into place behind them.
"I don't like this," Vahanian muttered.
"For once, I think I agree with you," Carina murmured.
Tris's imagination supplied many possibilities during their march, none of them pleasant. When they reached the castle, he expected to have the party split up, searched for the rest of their weapons, and locked—perhaps chained—in dungeon cells, awaiting an escort to Margolan.
The king's guardsmen met the captain at the inner bailey. "We'll take the prisoners from here," the guardsman said.
"General Gregor gave me orders to deliver them personally," the army captain countered.
"You may give the general the king's thanks. But we will take the prisoners from here."
The army captain's displeasure was clear in his face, but he gave a bow and signaled to his men to retreat.
"You will come with us," the captain of the guard said expressionlessly, as the liveried men-at-arms formed a column on either side of the prisoners. The captain of the guard marched them past the cells, and Vahanian and Tris exchanged puzzled glances as they climbed up a winding stairway toward the higher levels of the palace. They emerged behind a heavy wooden door in a well-appointed room.
"You will wait here," the captain said. He drew a dagger from his belt and split the cords that bound them, then gave a crisp bow and retreated, leaving only enough guards to block each exit. The prisoners looked at each other warily.
"Do you know this king, Tris?" Kiara asked.
"I've never met him. But perhaps Jared has," Tris replied. The reception hall, while not opulent, was quite comfortable, with a fire blazing in the hearth. A large, stern portrait glowered above the mantle, a strapping king dressed for a hunt, his trophy fox kill hanging from his grip, one black leather boot poised in triumph atop a downed stag. Finely woven tapestries covered the other walls.
"I'd say we're going nowhere fast," Vahanian said, rubbing his wrists. "I don't get it. First they inarch us here as if they've got a gallows waiting. Now it looks like they're going to serve dinner."
"Maybe they are," Carroway replied uneasily. "Question is, are we the guests or the peace offer-ing?"
Just then a door burst open. A streak of green brocade, the rustle of taffeta and running footsteps caught them all off-guard as their visitor lunged at Vahanian, nearly carrying him backward. Caught by the fighter's sharp reflexes, the newcomer beamed at them, a bright-eyed girl with a cascade of auburn hair braided with pearls on strands of gold.
"I told you I'd be all right!" Berry exclaimed, and before Vahanian could react, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
"I see I have no need to inquire which of you might be Vahanian," a deep baritone voice said from the door, and the astonished group found a bearded, sturdily built man watching them, powerful arms crossed across his chest, his expression no longer stern as in the portrait above the fireplace, but mirthful and indulgent.
Berry released Vahanian, running with undignified joy to greet each of the travelers. Gone was her tattered tunic, replaced by an ankle-length gown of Mussa brocade, its bodice alight with small gemstones and pearls. The unruly auburn curls were tamed into a dignified braid that shimmered in the firelight, plaited with gold. Scrubbed clean, perfumed and powdered, the tomboy had disappeared, replaced by a beautiful young girl too excited by her guests to worry about her finery. "And this is Carina," Berry concluded her introductions.
"I have heard much concerning each of you," the king said, stepping closer. "Forgive the... irregular greeting," he said with a smile and a perfunctory bow. "I am King Staden of Principality. I believe you already know my daughter, Berwyn."
Behind Staden, Soterius and Harrtuck crowded their way into the gathering room, followed by Royster. They greeted Tris and the others with hearty cheers.
Tris stepped forward. "Greetings, gracious king," he said with a bow. "Forgive our surprise, but we had no idea—"
The king chuckled. "Yes, Berwyn told me of her ruse. She has, I fear, her mother's love for a prank," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And I believe her role-playing may have saved her life, for her captors might have gone harder on her had they known the truth," he said, sobering. "For that same reason, when her traveling party was beset by bandits, we did not publicize that it was my daughter who was captured."
"The noble's daughter," Vahanian said, and King Staden nodded in confirmation. "The one the travelers at the inn said had been taken by slavers."
"We knew she could not conceal her noble birth," the king replied, "but we hoped to make her less of a hostage." His eyes grew serious. "When Berwyn returned to me last night, she told me about your capture. Forgive my use of the guards," he said with a gesture toward the soldiers who now filed from the room, dismissed. "But your friends here," he said with a nod to Soterius and Harrtuck, "warned me that you might not answer my summons any other way."
Staden smiled. "I, and my kingdom, are in your debt," he said. He walked among them, and stopped in front of Vahanian. "Yes, you fit Berwyn's description of an adventurer," he said with a grin, extending his hand to the mercenary, who shook it dubiously. "She told me you were her special champion," he said. "Tonight, there will be a banquet in your honor," he proclaimed. "For all of you, and your bravery in returning my daughter to her home. You have only to ask of me, and it will be done."
"Your Majesty," Tns began, and King Staden turned to him, taking his hand in greeting and clapping him on the shoulder.
"Berwyn told me of your circumstances, Prince Drayke," the king replied. "I shared many hunts with your father, and found him a worthy companion. I understand the urgency of your journey."
"I am grateful for your hospitality," Tris said. "But I fear that an open welcome may place your kingdom in peril."
Staden dismissed Tris's warning with a gesture. "On the morrow, we will talk, and you shall have the resources of my kingdom, my best men-at-arms, and my wisest military strategists at your service," Staden announced. "I have no love for Margolan raiders within my boundaries and I have heard the tales of the refugees who crowd my border villages. We shall all be better off when Margolan answers to a fit king.
"But tonight," he continued, "we feast. I never thought to see my daughter again. You have returned her to me. Nothing is more important. Come, we must get ready," he said, clapping his hands sharply. Servants streamed from the doors, gathering around Tris and the others and moving them toward the exits. "My servants will help you prepare," the king called after them, as Berry stood beside him with her arms around his waist.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Tris was led to a room that rivaled the most comfortable in Shekerishet. One servant poured a steaming bath, laden with musky oils, while another laid out fresh clothing on the bed and a third prepared a respite of wine, sliced fruit and bread. Berry's presence enabled him to relax his guard. He removed his soiled and tattered traveling clothes and slipped into the hot bath.