Her hands closed around the grip. She filled the shadow of a man dead.
“So the Companions of the Realm live on,” Andry said, looking from her back to Dom. He set his jaw, and some of the softness of his face melted away. “The quest is not failed, simply unfinished.”
By now, Corayne had lost count of how many times Dom’s lips had pulled into his scowl. This was certainly the worst one yet.
“That is one perspective,” he managed, sounding flustered. “Two of us remain.”
“Three,” Corayne said, startling even herself. She blinked fiercely. Be brave, be strong, she told herself, though she felt miles away from either. She raised her chin, trying to remember her mother’s voice, the one she used on the deck of a ship. In control, in command. “There are three now.”
Dom watched her intently, a sorrow languishing in his eyes. Corayne didn’t know whether to embrace him or slap him out of it. “Very well,” he said, his voice low.
As if this wasn’t what he wanted, what he asked for, what he sought me out to accomplish. Corayne gritted her teeth. I’m here because you brought me, she thought. You can at least pretend this isn’t a death sentence.
“And more will join us soon,” Andry said eagerly, all but leaping from his seat. He began sweeping around the parlor room, his energy vibrant and jarring against the circumstances. “I warned the Queen but she’s done nothing. Now, with you, my lord, and you, my lady”—he nodded at them both, still pacing—“she won’t have a choice. Queen Erida is fiercely protective of her kingdom. Certainly she won’t let it fall into ruin beneath Taristan’s feet.”
He paused before a shield on the wall. It was old, notched at the edges, the face painted gray with a blue star cut in two by a long slash. The squire stared up at it, as a priest might look upon his icons and altars. With a sinking feeling, Corayne realized she saw no signs of his father in these rooms. She looked at the ruined shield again, and at the boy before it.
We have something in common.
“I’ll help you of course,” Andry said, tearing himself away from the shield. “I’ll bring Mother to Nkonabo, out of harm’s way, but I’ll return. I swear it.”
Again, Dom looked pained, and Corayne felt some of it too. The daughter of Old Cor and the immortal didn’t have much choice in the matter, but the squire? It is a long way to Kasa, and a long way back.
“You don’t have to do that, Andry,” Dom said.
“It’s my duty,” Andry said fiercely. “My lord is fallen. I will avenge him.”
“You should stay with your mother.” Corayne selfishly regretted the words even as she said them. “Protect her.”
Andry went to his mother’s chair, standing like a guardian at her side. “And I will. But I’m a Companion. I have a duty to fulfill.”
“Very well, my son,” Valeri said, her eyes sharp. She put a hand on her son’s arm, soothing him a little. “We’ll leave this very night. I can be ready and waiting at the city docks by the time you finish with the Queen. All the arrangements are made; we need only send word.”
“I’ll call for your maid and porter,” Andry murmured in reply, kissing her closed fingers. “I’ll meet you on the ship before midnight.”
“The sooner we’re gone to Nkonabo, the sooner you can return,” his mother said with a small but pleasant smile.
It seemed to satisfy Andry, but Corayne saw the tightness at the corners of her mouth. The wariness going up behind her spring-colored eyes. No mother would send her child into danger willingly, even if it was their dearest wish. Suddenly it was not Valeri Trelland she saw by the fire, but Meliz an-Amarat, her hair tangled by a salt wind, lips moving without sound.
Take me with you, Corayne wanted to ask again.
I will not echoed.
“You should go to the Queen tonight, right now,” Valeri pushed on. She stood from her chair, hesitant on weak knees. “Before everyone gets too swept up in the festivities.”
“Festivities?” Dom quirked his head to one side. His scars caught the hearthlight.
Pacing again, Andry searched through cupboards in the parlor. He drew out matching baggage, a pair of satchels packed and latched tight. Both filled for a long journey, Corayne saw.
“The Queen is nineteen years old, and has been fielding betrothals ever since she came to the throne four years ago,” Andry said with an annoyed sigh. “Fending them off, mostly. But I guess her council has finally worn her down. She’s due to announce her husband at court this evening and marry him in ceremony tomorrow morning.”