The Autumn Republic

She talked over his agitation. “I took no other lover, but I heard the rumors. Taniel Two-shot. Hero of the Fatrastan War for Independence. Killing Kez Privileged left and right. Wooing hundreds of women. Tended night and day by a little savage sorceress.”

“I was never unfaithful.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Lies! I saw you in the arms of another man. With my own eyes!”

“I’m sorry!”

Taniel surged forward, carried halfway across the fire by his own fury, then pulled up short. “What?”

Vlora’s nostrils flared. “That’s the third time I’ve tried to tell you. It was a horrid mistake. You going to Fatrasta. Me taking that prig to bed. Mistake after mistake after mistake.”

Taniel returned slowly to his sleeping roll. There was a part of him that wanted to rush to her, take her in his arms and comfort her, but he knew that would make things more… complicated. They were done and nothing would change that. He had Ka-poel still. If she was still alive.

She thinks I’m lying. The thought hit him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. She thinks Ka-poel and I have been lovers for these last two years. “Vlora,” he said. The name seemed foreign on his lips, as he’d refused to say it for so many months. “Me and Ka-poel. It’s just been recently, it…” He trailed off. “I just need to get her back.”

“We’ll get her back,” Vlora said.

Was it her way of apology? Some kind of self-sacrifice? “Why?” He had to know.

“Because she still loves you, you daft tit.” Gavril’s voice came out of the darkness to Taniel’s left, and Taniel realized it had been his laugh he heard earlier. Taniel surged to his feet, reaching for his sword, swearing to cut the big man in two.

Vlora was faster. She leapt into the darkness and dragged Gavril back to the fire, throwing him to the ground like a child, though he was twice her size. Her jaw was set in anger.

Gavril squirmed on the ground, and it took a moment to realize that he was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. Vlora planted a boot in Gavril’s ribs, eliciting a single “Oof” and then another chorus of laughs. “What’s so funny, you fat bastard?” She grabbed him by the hair, lifting him to his knees, and his laughter suddenly ceased. A dangerous glint entered his eyes.

“Vlora…” Taniel stepped forward, ready to throw himself between them.

“You like putting your nose in someone else’s business, do you?” Vlora said in Gavril’s ear. “Well, how’s this: Taniel, this hairy ass is your uncle. He didn’t tell you on South Pike because he was too ashamed of being the Mountainwatch drunk, and he doesn’t tell you now because… well, I don’t know.” She kicked Gavril in the small of the back and stormed into the darkness.

Gavril caught himself over the small fire and deftly rolled to his feet. He wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes and watched Vlora go, then turned to Taniel. Catching Taniel’s gaze, he gave a sheepish grin and held out his flask. “Drink?”

“My bloody uncle?” Taniel asked.

Gavril bowed at the waist. “Jakola of Pensbrook, at your service, nephew.”

CHAPTER 27

Adamat shuddered at the memory of the last time he had been to Skyline Palace. It had been in the middle of the night over six months ago when Field Marshal Tamas summoned him in order to investigate the last words of members of the Adran royal cabal. The gardens of the great palace had been dark and unguarded, and instilled him with a deep sense of unease that flowed through him even now.

Though, he acknowledged to himself, his unease this morning was likely of a different sort.

Lord Claremonte was the late Lord Vetas’s employer. And anyone who employed such a monster would surely be a monster himself. Every fiber of Adamat’s being told him to turn around and run, to return home and lock his door and never take a job in the city again-and bugger Ricard and Tamas and Claremonte and everyone else involved in this deadly dance.

But he’d made a promise to Ricard, so he straightened his jacket and dusted off the brim of his hat.

Most of the gardens had become overgrown, untended over the summer, and dozens of sentries in the colors of the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company were posted about the grounds. Adamat’s carriage traveled up the front drive, past the immense, silver-plated doors and along the front of the palace until they rounded one corner and proceeded to the servants’ entrance.

Adamat emerged from his carriage just as three policemen and the commissioner of police stepped out of theirs. The commissioner tipped her hat to Adamat and then strode up to a rather ordinary set of double doors and rapped twice.

The door opened a crack. Words were exchanged, and then the commissioner headed inside, with her officers on her tail. Adamat followed.