“Perhaps seeing my uncle in action helps you better understand why I do not wish to follow his orders, since they so often lead to unpleasant things.”
A fist in my chest unclenches. “You didn’t betray me.”
“No, I didn’t. If my uncle was interested in your father, he would have investigated everything about him thoroughly.” He sips contemplatively, then sets down the mug. “What I don’t understand is why you are here. Your household is in mourning for Lord Ottonor.”
Everyone is still looking at us. I liked it better when they ignored me.
I shift closer, whispering even more softly, “Lord Gargaron took my father into his household and made him a general.”
Kalliarkos whistles. “That can’t be possible.”
A spike of irritation burns through my flesh. It’s as if he’s two people: a young man who really understands me, and an oblivious fool. “Of course it’s possible. Your uncle wants the hero of Maldine to command the Eastern Reach. What’s so strange about that?”
He looks at the sky as at the gods and their inexplicable actions. “I had no idea. I thought it was a lord from the old country, someone with military experience overseas.…”
“What are you talking about?” My hand tightens around the mug. I need something to hold on to when I get the bad news I am sure is about to come.
He runs a hand through his short black hair.
“My older sister left this morning for our villa at Falcon Hill. She’s to marry a military man newly come to the service of Garon Palace.”
16
My father is marrying Kalliarkos’s older sister.
I stare as the scraps and hints of information I’ve overheard all fall into place.
“Have I done anything to make you think I make rash promises without meaning to keep them?” he asks in a low voice.
A woman I did not know could remain a mirage, but every time Father looks on his bride he will see the face of a highborn woman whose brother he told me I must never speak to again. Because I’m not good enough for such a man.
“When I said I would keep your secret, I meant it,” he adds.
It’s odd how annoyed he sounds, like I’m doubting his honor. I’m grateful to him for keeping his promise but the news is a knife in my throat. I can’t speak.
We eat the rest of our meal in silence. At last Kalliarkos makes an awkward retreat.
Tana shepherds me to the women’s barracks for the usual lie-down people take in the worst heat of the day. Canvas curtains hang from the roof to create eight cubicles with two cots each. She directs me to a cot placed by the door where normally a servant would sleep.
“Rest here. We’ll run you at the afternoon practice, see how you do.” She leaves.
In the gloom I strip down to my underthings and lie on top of the blanket. Having sisters and servants, and training at Anise’s stable, has killed any shyness I might ever have felt about undressing around women.
The curtain flaps as the Patron girl strides past without a word and goes into the cubicle at the far end. Three other women jostle up to look me over.
The tallest is a strapping Commoner woman with big hands. “Please don’t tell us you’re Lord Kalliarkos’s latest pity rescue.”
“Pity rescue?”
The short one breaks in. “The useless fledgling adversaries he brings in are a waste of everyone’s effort. This stable will never be able to compete at the highest level if his uncle doesn’t put a stop to it.”
“Lord Gargaron?” I ask, thinking about the mines.
All three make the sign against the evil eye.
“Don’t ever mention his name,” says the tall one. “We’re talking about Lord Thynos.”
“Lord Thynos is Lord Kalliarkos’s uncle?”
“He’s the younger brother of Kalliarkos’s mother. When she was shipped here to marry his father, he was sent along with her. He was just a boy then.”
The one who hasn’t spoken yet looks at me. “Maybe she can actually run.”
“Maybe I can!” I say with a flash of confidence that punches through my misery. “I’m no pity rescue!”
“How else can Lord Kalliarkos know you?”
I know better than to tell the truth so I just shrug. They walk off. Tallest and shortest share a space. The quiet one’s cubicle is hung with so many pretty masks and ribbons that it reminds me of Amaya. Melancholy swells in my heart. I would drown in grief except that the heavy meal, the mug of beer, and the drowsy heat combine to make me sleepy as my thoughts eddy.
