Arc 5: Chapter 23: Brittle Armor
I dismissed Penric to see to his errand, and had the others retire for rest and recovery. Some beds had been moved into the tower while I’d been away, the result of requests I’d made before I’d gone to the Backroad, making the place a functional if poorly provisioned barracks. The cleric, Emil, had no proper healing Art but could work his aura well enough to purify wounds and speed their mending.
I had him tend to Emma as well. She’d scowled about it, but I could tell she’d been putting on a brave face all day. Her limp had gotten noticeably worse.
I’d gone up to my office — I hated calling it that, but had no better word — when a knock came at the door. I’d just sat down to take a breath for the first time since the meeting with Count Laertes, and had to quash the impulse to ignore it. The chair I’d had brought up wasn’t particularly rich or comfortable, but it had arms and I’d slept on worse.
I knew I needed rest. I hadn’t even gotten out of my armor and cloak, too worn and distracted to worry much about comfort.
I could hear the surly growl in my voice when I told the knocker to enter. I heard the clink of metal, then a tall, powerfully built woman with ash-colored hair and sea green armor stepped into the room.
I stared, taken aback. “Ser Kaia. What are you—”
I almost choked when the royal champion stepped aside and a second figure glided in after her.
“Your Grace.” I stood immediately, thoughtlessly, stepping around to the front of the desk before sinking down to one knee. Propping a fist against the cold stone of the tower floor, I bowed my head before my face could betray any emotion.
Rosanna stopped in the middle of the room. She wore a very pale blue dress accented with darker greens and threaded with silver designs, its long skirts trailing along the floor to meld with a silk cape. A veil, encircled by her spiked silver crown, concealed her black hair. The maker of that ancient crown had worked aura into it, so it seemed to shimmer with strange lights and patterns. I had once seen it shining like a frozen star, the day she’d been declared Queen of the Karledale.
She looked every inch the Empress. Her pale, pretty face peered down at me like a cold moon beneath that gleaming silver crown.
“Could you leave us a while, Ser Kaia?” Her voice sounded calm, collected. I could detect no emotion in it.