CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ban took the steps up to the second floor of his home at a jog. Everything required him to rush lately. As the Highest King's arrival drew closer, he found himself going everywhere at that much of a quicker pace.

My own floundering fault, he groused to himself. Forget the maps, forget the one page you needed, or forget something else or another. Won't be long before I start forgetting my own arse cheeks.

He blamed it on Nikos. Having a baby around was sucking the ether right out of his brain.

Whatever excuse he told himself, Ban didn't have the time to dally. He'd have liked to sneak into Nikos' nursery, see how the rybka was doing, most definitely steal a smooch off of Moon while he was at it, and just let the Dragon Lords figure out everything on their own for once. But that couldn't happen. Ban needed to collect the muster reports he'd left in his study and bring them back to the palace as soon as he could.

This was one of those menial tasks that might've been better left to a subordinate— waves, even a squire— but Ban wasn't so oblivious to his own ulterior motives. Whatever Hell he might catch for it, he would take a detour by the nursery, and Ban didn't care that everyone from the palace to Old Sandharbor knew full-well what he was up to.

Ban all but sprinted into his study, snatched the papers in question from his stack, and shot right back for the door. If he hurried, he could take a few minutes for checking if Nikos was laughing yet. Enfri said that was weeks off, but Ban wasn't going to miss his shot at being the first to hear it for a lack of trying.

He'd make time for Nikos. It didn't matter if Jin was back home or any number of other things cropping up. Be it the Jade Empire, Althandor, or the weird notions that the fey were fostering about Ban's son, nothing would stop him from being the father Nikos deserved.

His dash through the halls slowed. Ban noticed the door into the library standing ajar and heard voices inside. He frowned, not recognizing them as belonging to anyone on his staff. It might've been one or two of his mother's students, come to borrow a volume from his shelves, but Ban couldn't imagine he'd have a book that Ascania didn't already have a first edition printing of.

Curious and possessed of hard-earned caution, Ban placed his steps carefully to approach the library door. He put his hand to the dark wood and pushed slightly, widening the crack by which he could see who or what had invaded. He caught sight of white hair and sighed. Ban abandoned stealth and entered.

"Lady Starra, I'd heard you were still recovering from your wound."

His unexpected visitor lounged on one of the upholstered sofas throughout the library. The sofa's back was to the door, blocking most of her from view, but Ban could spot Starra from a league off by just the particular way her hair sat. It was vital, because no one in the empire put him on edge quite like she did. Not even her sisters.

"Oh, yes," Starra said. She neither rose to her feet or turned to look his way. She kept on the sofa, hidden from view but for the top of her head. "Between wizardry and potions, I'm more or less on the mend. You needn't worry."

Ban looked around the library. "Is Moon here?"

"I'm afraid not," Starra said. "Your steward informed us that she left the estate less than an hour ago. With Jin and Maya, if you believe it."

Ban wasn't sure if he did. He didn't miss how she said "us" either.

"If you're looking for your gorgeous goblin boy, he's with his grandmother."

Ban grunted. That meant he wouldn't get the chance to see Nikos without being obvious about it. His schemes thwarted, he resolved to instead get to the bottom of the mystery that had presented herself.

He narrowed his eyes as he approached. He'd heard others in the library, but Starra was the only one here. If it wasn't Moon, then a sending, probably. Ban was more curious than ever about what would bring a Nolaas to the Karst estate. Their houses were the only two great houses of Shan Alee so far, but outside of his first officer, there weren't any ties between them.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Ban asked. "Suuri will have my head if she thinks I'm helping you push yourself too hard."

"Nothing like that, dear Marshal." Starra hummed in amusement. "I'm not here for work. This is a social call."

Now, Ban was really suspicious. He came around the sofa to get a better look at what Starra was up to. At once, he stopped short and went on his back foot.

Starra wore a gown, another of those Aleesh two-piece numbers, with the top half cropped high enough that it didn't even pretend to be modest, and the skirt was slit up floundering both thighs. It was red when Ban had never seen Starra wear anything but black before. With good reason, apparently, because Starra Nolaas in a red dress could be classified as an act of war. She looked up at him from beneath smoky eye-shadow and wore a smile that was as far from innocent as Ban could imagine.

"What's going on?" Ban asked in a flat tone.

Starra smirked. "Merely passing on some information you should be made aware of."

Ban raised his chin and tried not to frown. "Of what sort?"

"Personal," she said with a wink.

Alarm bells started ringing in Ban's head. They blared like a frothing Southron berserker having a party with a gong.

The door into an adjoining sitting room opened, and Minister Reyn walked in. Ban was about to feel relief at being rescued— Reyn coming to wrangle her vampire— but that ended quickly. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, because Reyn's outfit was every ounce as bold as her betrothed's. Pink silk, of a particular dark shade that was famous for summoning the spirit of Passion in Irdruin. Asymmetrical, hanging loosely off one shoulder, and making promises that it clung to Reyn's body only by the grace of gods. Her long legs made even strides towards the sofa, and her blue eyes were fixed on Ban with a look of dark enjoyment.

Ban raised a finger and opened his mouth, but if he had a point to make, it was lost at the inception. He didn't have the slightest idea what was going on, and he didn't want to know. He kept his hydromancy strictly in check for the express purpose of not knowing.

Reyn came to the sofa and sank languidly beside Starra, giving a caress to her cheek. She looked at Ban before giving Starra the sort of kiss that had no business being seen by an audience.

"I'll... I'm going to go now." Ban backed away. "Take... err... Take all the time you want."

He turned and was about to break into a dash for safety when he saw that his escape route was blockaded. Pacifica came in, pulling the doors shut behind her with a loud and damning slam. Her scarlet hair was out of its customary braid. It went nearly to her waist when it wasn't put up, and she'd teased and curled it in the way that took an hour or more with a professional to obtain.

Ban could've started screaming if he was thinking clearly, but Pacifica's gown was out of character enough that it caused a fault in his brain's steam engine. Hers was black, and it made Starra's usual manner of dress seem prudish in comparison. Sleeveless, backless, floundering near topless seeing as the neckline wasn't even in the vaguest vicinity of her neck at all. Ban could see more of her bosom than he couldn't, and that was inappropriate for more reasons than he could count in one sitting.

His hand reached over his shoulder by reflex, grabbing for the haft of an axe that wasn't with him.

Ban prepared to die.

"Don't go just yet," Pacifica said in a purring tone he'd never heard out of her. "You shouldn't be rude to guests in your home."

"What in the name of tides..."

Pacifica took him by the arm and had to drag him back to the sofa. Reyn and Starra stopped smooching and started grinning like a pair of lynxes at his predicament.

Ban's torso went rigid, and if not for the fear he'd break Pacifica in two, he'd have struggled against her hold on him. She pushed him into an armchair across from the sofa, and sat down with Reyn between her and Starra.

Then, in a moment of pure insanity, Pacifica took hold of Reyn's face and planted a kiss on her that made the one before look like a chaste peck on the cheek.

Ban leaned back in his chair and scowled, not sure if he should look away or keep staring down his nose at this spectacle. Pacifica was cuckolding Lady Starra right in front of him! And in front of Lady Starra. House's had gone to war for less!

What confused him further was how Starra seemed to be enjoying the show.

"Waves and tides, that's enough!"

Pacifica pulled her tongue out of Reyn's mouth and gave Ban a cold glare. "Bannlyth Battleborn Karst, is there a problem?"

Flabbergasted, Ban sputtered. She used his second name. That meant he was in trouble, but if he'd done anything wrong throughout this nightmare, he'd eat a peach pit.

Pacifica tilted her head to the side. "Is something the matter? You look flushed."

"Ohh," Ban breathed. He didn't need hydromancy to see her angle. "You floundering monster. You got tired of tormenting the blood runner, so now you're making sport of me?"

"You don't say," Pacifica exclaimed, feigning shock. "How astute of you."

"Personally," Reyn added, "I will never tire of tormenting Krayson."

Starra gave a hum of agreement and a sage nod.

What Ban didn't yet understand was how or why Reyn and Starra were mixed up in all of this. If Pacifica wanted to pull a prank, there had to have been less scandalous ways of going about it. "Don't tell me you walked through town in broad daylight in that getup."

Pacifica flicked her wrist at him. "All three of us can teleport, you dunce, and Ascania maintains a metavatarium in her manor."

"Ma's in on this?"

"Oh, I can answer that one," Starra offered. "Lady Ascania, the utterly glorious creature, was our first stop on this errand. Pacifica was very eager to give her the same news we're bringing you."

Ban didn't appreciate anyone talking about his mother that way, particularly someone with Lady Starra's reputation. "You pulled this pageantry for her, too?"

Pacifica mirrored his scowl. "Don't be daft, you lout. Of course not."

The spirits granted small favors. With Ascania's mental faculties returning to her, it'd begun to grow clear that Ban's mother had more in common with Pacifica than he realized. They were both incurable troublemakers at heart.

"What news?" Ban asked.

"I am astonished he has not already figured it out," Reyn said. "Purposeful obliviousness?"

Ban squinted. "Should I take this all at face value, then?"

Well," Pacifica said, "you could. It'd be a start."

Eyes darting between the three lunatics, Ban decided that if there was an honorable way out of this quagmire, the way to find it was to say exactly what it all looked like from his perspective. They'd all see how ridiculous they were acting, everyone would have a good laugh about it, and Ban could scoot out the door before they could blink.

"Looks like the three of you are propositioning me."

Pacifica shrieked in outrage, Reyn looked horrified, but Starra— Starra floundering Nolaas— put a forefinger to her lips in consideration.

"You lout," Pacifica cried. "You reprobate! You floundering blockhead!"

"Lord Bannlyth, you are mistaken."

"I... Well bloody hell, I think I could be convinced."

Pacifica and Reyn shot Starra appalled looks.

Starra shrugged in response. "Doubly so if he brings his wife to the event."

"Ma trésor, you cannot be..."

Pacifica bolted to her feet and pointed a finger at Ban's swift escape. "He's getting away! Stop him!"

Ban used their momentary distraction to dash for the doorway. He got his fingers around the handle before he was tackled from behind by a red-headed ballista bolt forged from belligerence. He got onto his back as Pacifica sat straddled on top of him and turned herself into a whirlwind of slapping hands. Ban fended her off as best he could, but all he could do in the end was curl into a fetal position and cover his face with his arms.

Starra and Reyn approached arm in arm to within a safe distance.

"Dear one, while I do adore your paramour, I must say that this violence doesn't seem entirely warranted."

Reyn sighed. "He winds her up something terrible, ma trésor."

"Why's that?"

"They grew up together."

"Ah."

Ban shouted from underneath Pacifica's fervent swatting. "Don't act like this is normal. Get her off me!"

Reyn and Starra each took hold of an arm and pulled Pacifica away from Ban. She was red in the face and kicked at his shins before being taken out of reach.

Ban peeked out from behind his arms. "Did you say paramour?"

Reyn adjusted Pacifica's bodice while the floundering short-stack of a princess was too flustered to see to herself. "Forgive us, Lord Bannlyth. I did not believe this would... devolve... so quickly."

Starra covered her mouth and chuckled. "Neither did I, but bloody hell, it's entertaining."

Ban sat up and rubbed at his jaw. If he got bruises from this, he'd never hear the end of it from Kimpo. "Paramour?"

"Yes, my lord," Reyn said while combing her fingers through Pacifica's hair to reorder it. "Pacifica and I have been courting for the past three months, and she thought you should know." She exhaled through her nose. "I only agreed to this because Pacifica promised this exact thing would not happen."

Starra raised a hand. "I came for the asking. This is marvelous."

"Courting?" Ban asked. He felt his jaw slacken as his finger pointed at each of them in turn.

"Don't get the wrong idea, my lord," Starra admonished. "Pacifica and Reyn are a couple, and Reyn and I are a couple. Pacifica and I are not."

"I see."

"As of yet."

"I see?"

Pacifica snorted. "She's joking, Ban."

Ban blinked, looked to Starra, then looked back at Pacifica. "All this was to tell me you're courting Reyn?"

Pacifica nodded.

"Well, why didn't you just say that? Congratulations."

She made as if to take off one of her shoes to beat him over the skull. Reyn held onto her shoulders and whispered soothing words.

"So," Ban grunted while getting to his feet, "I'm not giving the reaction you wanted, and it pissed you off. Fair enough." He strained to force redness into his cheeks and affected an appalled stammer. "B-but... Society! Traditional values! Social conventions! I am aghast, I say. Aghast!"

Pacifica looked at him as if he were a loon.

Ban dropped the act. "Waves and tides, Cifi, I married a goblin. My best friend and his wife are both courting the same man. You really thought your being with Reyn would ruffle my feathers?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Pacifica mumbled sullenly.

Starra barked a sharp laugh. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I like him, and I don't like many men."

"Cifi?" Reyn murmured. "Gods, that is precious."

Pacifica pointed at Ban. "Only Sasha can call me that." She rounded on Reyn and gave her the warmest, most doting smile imaginable. "And you, sila moya. If you'd like."

Ban raised an eyebrow. Pacifica called Reyn "my strength" or near enough from Old Altieri. Things were seeming less and less like a prank and more sincere, despite how it got all Pacifica'd up by the end. He grinned and went towards his sister of the heart. Ban enfolded her in his arms and hugged tight.

"And you thought you weren't destined for romance," he said. "Rocker."

Her voice was muffled from her face being pressed against him. "Dolt. Being happy for me. Now I'm embarrassed."

"For the swatting? Aye, you should be." He held her out at arm's length. "Told Sasha yet? He'll get a kick out of it."

"Of course I did. I tell my brother everything."

"But it's weird, the things that are genetic."

"I'm sure Nikos will lie awake at night when he's older for fear of what he's inheriting from you."

"Not gonna lie. Me too."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why must you be so infuriating?"

"Why must you be so infuriated?" He let her go and inclined his head to Reyn. "This doesn't change your coming wedding?"

Reyn took Starra's hand. "Not at all."

"Good to hear." Ban took a studious posture. "Now, say you married both these ladies, gods save you, would it be Reyn Nolaas-Romov or Reyn Romov-Nolaas?"

A mortified squeak erupted from Pacifica's mouth.

"I..." Reyn's eyes darted between her two lovers. Her cheeks went bright red. "I have not... The question has not come up."

Ban nodded sagely. "I see. Well, it might just be simpler if you claimed a title for yourself, and they could enter into your house."

All three women took a step back from him.

"What was your father's name?" Ban asked. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention."

Reyn opened and closed her mouth twice before responding. "Maël, my lord. Maël Hostler. Why..."

"Pacifica Maël," Ban mused. He hummed. "Has a nice ring to it. Goes well with Starra, too, if you don't mind my saying."

"Dear one," Starra said softly, "we should go. This man is dangerous."

Ban made an inquisitive sound.

"Very dangerous," Starra reiterated. "No man should have ideas that good. It goes against the natural order of things."

"I am not about to claim a title," Reyn blurted. "I do not have the capital or collateral or..."

"I don't know," Ban said lightly. "Technically, what with how it all came about, it wouldn't be a stretch to say the entire Miracle Expanse is a direct result of your labors. That makes it... arguably... your legal holding. I think a title in exchange for half a continent's worth of land is more than fair."

"Very very dangerous," Starra whispered.

Pacifica eyed Ban askance as she backed away alongside the others. "He almost makes it sound plausible."

Ban matched every step of their retreat, enjoying how things unexpectedly turned in his favor. He hadn't even needed to switch on his hydromancy to do it. "Bring it up with Enfri. The way she's been handing out titles to her neighbors, I'm sure she can swing one for you. If the Thatcher family can get one for a few dinky copper veins, you're ahead of the curve."

Reyn stammered, nearly incomprehensible. "It bears mentioning th-that copper... It is rising in value with... Electrical technology is approaching viability, or so I... Gods, ya no can dire liken it's snottin' gonna bonce."

Ban hadn't the foggiest of what she was trying to say, but he grinned regardless. "A wine house."

"I beg your pardon?" Reyn exclaimed.

"This deserves a toast or two, don't you think? We should visit a wine house this evening. It's been a while since any of us had a drink together. Waves, not since Ecclesia, come to think of it." He smirked. "You hated me back then."

"I may still," Reyn grumbled.

Ban swatted that sentiment out of the air. "Bah, come off it. We've been pals since Drok Moran. Anyway, some Hondoan fella just set up a place outside the palace district. Supposed to be real high class. I'll pick up the tab and everything, so you all should meet me there at sundown. Just an annoying, little errand I need to take care at the palace first."

Pacifica wrinkled her nose. "What sort of errand."

Ban blew out his lips and rolled his eyes. "The sort that talks too much but brings two hundred fifty experienced mercenaries into our ranks."

"Ugh," Starra groaned. She even stuck out her tongue and mimicked a dry heave. "You mean Durken the Tuber."

Reyn let out a disapproving sigh.

"Aye, that's the one," Ban said. He glanced towards a clock hanging on the library wall and saw there were just three minutes left before the city bells rang the next hour. "And, I'm already late. Remember; dusk, palace district, Hondoan wine house. If I end up drinking alone, I won't let any of you hear the end of it. Think of it as your punishment for accosting a married knight in those gowns, you pack of maniacs."

Finally, there appeared to be an ounce of contrition between the three. A quarter with Pacifica, the rest with Reyn, and it came as no surprise that Starra didn't seem sorry in the slightest. Ban fostered a deep suspicion that while this all had been on Pacifica's initiative, she might've just been dancing to the fancies of a vampire. Honestly, provocative gowns and a peep show? It had Starra Nolaas written all over it.

Ban coerced mumbled promises out of them before excusing himself. He shut the library door behind him and made all due haste out of the estate. Best to retreat while he held the upper hand, because he rarely held it for long. Pacifica always got it back in short order.

Once gone and back on his horse, Ban took Arnln at a brisk canter. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Pacifica with fire in her eyes as she chased him down for another drubbing. Fortunately, his aft was clear for the entire ride back to the palace.

He'd never admit it— not in a thousand years, considering who all was involved— but he was feeling hot under the collar from the encounter. Waves take him, but Pacifica knew exactly how to push his buttons. All he could do now was plan for a cold bath before heading to the wine house and hope Moon's day was less stressful than his.

Entering the palace grounds, Ban took note of how the stables were full. A large number of riders must've come while he was gone. He furrowed his brow. There was only one expected party arriving this afternoon, and Ban wasn't looking forward to dealing with them. Handing Arnln off to a palace groom, Ban made his way up to the second floor of the southeast wing. The war room was empty save for the Ulthred's first and second officers, both collecting updates from the tactical maps, and Ban went towards the First Knight's study.

As soon as he went through his office's door, he was greeted by the faint smell of spiced tobacco and a heavier scent of horse. His visitors were fresh off from a long and hard ride across the western kingdoms.

"My lord Karst."

Ban acknowledged the greeting from the leader of the group. There were nine of them total, the rest were likely being shown to the barracks Ban had prepared for their arrival.

"Lord Darian," Ban said in greeting. He walked through the Nadian mercenaries to make his way to his desk. "My apologies for making you wait."

"King," said a hard-bitten woman of middle years at the edge of the room. "You speak to King Darian the Teranor, Altieri."

Darian raised a calming hand in the woman's direction. "Not as of yet, Catnia. I'm not king until my grandfather's throne is returned to me. Lord will suffice for the moment."

The female mercenary got a pinched look and watched Ban sit down through narrowed eyes.

Ban passed his gaze over Darian's mercenaries. They were a hard and rough group, unwashed and saddlesore after a month of riding all across the border of the Miracle. From what Ban had heard, Darian was telling people that he'd gathered all of the men he expected to find. They'd been scattered after being routed by the Espallans in the Imperial City. Many were killed, but the ones Darian counted as his closest advisors and protectors were finally back in his service after that setback.

Darian the Teranor was an irritatingly handsome man, the sort of handsome that left people staring in amazement that someone could actually be that attractive. The knight's uniform he wore was similar to Ban's, only dark red and of a more antiquated cut. The sigil of House Teranor, a silver tower on a cerulean field, was embroidered on either shoulder. He was of an age with Ban, in his early to mid twenties. He had an olive complexion, clean shaven, and had dark brown hair in a Nadian style, one half of his head shaved almost to the stubble. His nose was prominent on his face in an elegant fashion, and his mouth curved easily into a friendly grin. More than a few people Ban knew of believed that Darian's best feature was his eyes. They were steel gray, with traces of yellow near the pupil and of violet around the edge of the iris. Darian was good-looking, assured, confident, and well-spoken, the sort of man one imagined when told to expect an exiled prince on a crusade to reclaim his family's stolen throne.

Ban didn't like him. Darian reminded him too much of the womanizing prat he used to be when he was younger. By all accounts, Darian didn't appear to have the same intentions of changing his ways.

Even so, Ban could respect him. When push came to shove, Darian chose the right side. He stuck by Enfri and Shan Alee through suspicion and accusations aimed his way, and at the end, he played a crucial role in the rebirth of the Espalla Dunes.

Shan Alee owed him, and that meant Shan Alee would hide him from Cathis.

Ban set the papers he retrieved from his estate on the desk. "Were you successful?"

"Straight to business?" Darian laughed. "Come off it, man, you're allowed to drop that dour manner of yours. Word from here to the southern border is that there's a new Karst toddling about."

Ban cracked a smile despite himself. "He's two days old. Toddling's a bit of a ways off."

"Don't be so literal." Darian pulled a chair out from the opposite side of the desk and sat down. He draped an arm over the back of the chair and leaned back. "If memory serves, your lady is a Sapphire? I hope a dragon bond aids in her recovery."

"Seems to have, yes," Ban said. "She's been dragged out of the estate for an outing already, so I at least hope so."

"Which reminds me." Darian raised a finger then pointed at one of his mercenaries.

The indicated man had his back to the desk, but when called for, he turned and held an earthenware tray with a golden tea set on top of it. Steam curled from the kettle and a pair of cups.

"Repaying a debt," Darian explained while the tray was placed on Ban's desk. "An old empire tea set, and I brought along the instruments I promised you. Far as I can tell, they've held up over the years. As accurate as the day they were spellwrought."

Another man set down a leather-bound carrying case and opened it. The case turned to face Ban, and he was confronted by an array of ancient Aleesh navigational tools, all polished to a gleam.

Ban's eyes widened as he reached for the largest piece, a crystal-lensed sextant. He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers, careful not to damage the antique.

"No need to be gentle," Darian said. He took up his cup but didn't drink. "Those were made to be used. It's an old adage but one worth repeating; they really don't make them like they used to. The instruments belonged to Grandmaster Alzhuur Xakkadia Second Summit of the Pearl Knights, fifty years pre-collapse."

Ban took note of tiny glimmers of a deep blue light within the workings of the sextant. He recognized etherlight originating from an indigo dragon. "Theurallurgic?" he asked.

"Seems to be." Darian sipped his tea. "Though, I can't deduce what the enchantment does. I thought a scrivener might have better luck."

Ban had to squint to read the runes carved into the metal. Darian offered forward an eye-piece similar to a jeweler's lens to help him get a closer look. With the magnification, Ban could read most of the sigils inscribed on the sextant.

"There's a fourth-tier rune at the center," Ban murmured. "I don't recognize it."

"Describe it," Darian prompted.

"Twenty lines, uses the Kedos branching structure, base quintet in symmetry, appears an evolution of Tarnak."

"Ah," Darian said, lightly thumping a palm on the desk. "Deluca managed a translation of that one, because we saw it often during excavations. The Aleesh called it Thosso, rune of magnetism."

Ban gave back the lens. "You identified a rune unknown to the magocracy? Impressive."

Darian seemed pleased by the recognition. "Unfortunately, the essence has few immediate uses as we could determine. A lost magic, technically, though not as dramatic as others you've uncovered."

Ban frowned as he peered at other sigils. Each one had Thosso worked into it somehow. "Magnetism, you say. Like with compasses? Why put that on a sextant?"

"It shows in a lot of theurallurgic mechanisms from the old empire. It's less about the function of the device and more about keeping it in working order."

Ban nodded absently. He supposed Darian would know. As one of few to delve into the secret history, Darian was something of the foremost expert on the ancient Aleesh. Rather, the foremost expert who didn't hear a few hundred of them whispering on a daily basis. That being said, Darian was definitely the premier expert on archaeology in Shan Alee, if not all the Five Kingdoms or even the Continent. It wasn't a field that had ever been encouraged until recently.

"Thank you, my lord," Ban said, placing the sextant back into its case, "but it's bit much for the little I did."

Darian laughed into his teacup before lowering it. "Getting me a conversation with Reyn? I think you know as well as I do that getting her to do something she doesn't want to do is all but impossible. You moved a mountain on my behalf, so to speak."

Ban wasn't about to argue such an asinine point. That was months ago, and he really hadn't needed to do more than suggest to Reyn that she speak with Darian. Reyn was one of the more amenable women Ban knew, but he wasn't about to insult her by insisting on it. Went against the whole point. Also, he doubted Reyn would appreciate two men gossiping about her.

Holding back a sigh, Ban tried the tea. It was a nice cup. He could almost taste its antiquity and definitely taste the gold. Weird how that was a pleasant flavor. The tea itself was a bit subpar and rather bland, but anyone who had tea with Enfri was liable to get spoiled in that area.

"But, to business," Darian said, setting his cup down. "I know you're a busy man, my lord."

It irked Ban somewhat how Darian addressed him as a noble rather than a knight. It wasn't improper, but it revealed which Darian saw as more important. "You located the last of your patriots."

"I did," Darian said with a smile. "Took some doing and no small amount of sleuthing across the borderlands, but I did. When the Espallans evicted us from our dig sites, they made a point of making it as difficult as they could for us to regroup."

Ban nodded. "You managed, nonetheless."

"I've some experience in tracking," he said with false modesty. "Everything I ever learned was taught to me by these fine people." He gestured towards the eight mercenary officers. "Nadian misthios, all personally selected by my grandfather, King Jiral the Teranor."

Ban raised an eyebrow. "That's a long time to hold to a contract."

"Twenty-one years now, Deluca?" Darian asked.

The mercenary who brought the tea nodded respectfully. "Yes, Excellency. It has been our honor to serve the bright tower."

Ban had questions, such as who'd been footing the mercenaries' bill while Darian was still a child. The misthios of Nadia, freelance for-hire experts of anything from engineering to warfare, took their contracts as seriously as a royal assassin. All but religious in their dedication to the job. Ban thought it better to ask such questions more discreetly, and not to Darian or his retinue.

"So these aren't just your armsmen," Ban surmised. "They've been your tutors."

"Nothing so mild," Darian said. "They raised me. For as long as I've had conscious memory, they've been with me. I'm not overstating when I say that all I know has come from them. I don't remember my mother's face anymore. When I try-" he flashed a smile over his shoulder. -"I see Catnia's."

The grizzled woman actually blushed.

"I am the last surviving heir of House Teranor," Darian continued more seriously. "But these... These are my family, Lord Bannlyth. They've bled for me, and I for them. It's come time for me to fulfill my end of their contract. It was never meant to permanent, nor was Nadia's subjugation by the Althandi."

Ban had difficulty meeting Darian's eye. "That's not for me to say."

"But you are on the Imperial Council. You're the First Knight and knight-marshal of the Imperial Legion. Your word holds power in Shan Alee."

"It's not a good time for talk of reclaiming your birthright," Ban said. "We're about to receive the Highest King for him to accept Enfri's fealty. To date, he still has no idea you exist. Springing this- a demand to return Nadia to House Teranor- couldn't work against us more if it came with an assassination attempt."

Ban meant it as a barb, and Darian rightly took it as one. The exiled prince sat straighter in his chair and raised his chin.

"To be fair," Darian said in a low tone, "I've never tried to assassinate anyone. Successfully or otherwise. That's the Althandi way of doing things, not the Nadian way."

"It's the Courtesan way," Ban said. "You can't deny you have ties to them."

Darian grimaced. "We rarely are allowed to choose who we get in bed with, my lord."

"Not in my experience," Ban said.

"Often, the choice is made for you, and no amount of crying about it can change it."

Ban didn't like where this metaphor was taking them. He did, however, have a consolation he planned to offer. It had to do with Darian's previous ties to the Courtesans, and the meetings that could be arranged. Meetings with someone, rather something, that humanity would be better off being rid of.

Darian was Shan Alee's best bet for countering the demon known as Rigel.

"I understand your position, my lord," Darian said. "Peace between Aleesh and Althandi was thought impossible by most everyone on all sides."

"There's at least one person who never believed that," Ban said.

Darian chuckled. "Yes. Your empress is nothing if not persistent in her convictions."

"I wouldn't be following her otherwise."

"Is that so?" Darian asked. An annoying sort of smirk, all smug and punchable, arrived on his lips. "At this point, is that really accurate?"

Ban narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that there comes a point where you continue to follow her simply because you have nowhere else to go. If her convictions changed, could you actually leave her service?"

Ban felt his spine threaten to go rigid, but he kept himself from reacting. Maybe that hit closer to the mark than Ban wanted to admit. "A moot point, my lord."

Darian blinked and averted his eyes. "Yes, of course. I don't even know what I was saying. It's been a long day, so please forgive my churlishness."

"Understandable," Ban said. Waves knew, Ban got snappy over little things before, and Darian had a history of being unfairly targeted. It was easy enough to excuse.

"Her Majesty is more than simply possessed of strong convictions," Darian went on. "She is brilliant, good to her people, and measured in her judgements. Shan Alee is blessed to have such an empress."

"On that we can agree," Ban said.

"And beautiful," Darian added. "Quite possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"As you say," Ban said diplomatically.

"Come off it, man," Darian laughed. "You're married, not dead. I won't let you sit there and tell me you don't think the Dragon Empress has one of the finest bodies on the Continent."

"Sure. It belongs to her and everything."

Darian laughed as if Ban had joined in with that sort of talk.

Should've shut it down more clearly, he told himself. He opened his mouth to do just that when Darian talked over him.

"But you're right, of course," Darian said, as if saying it erased what he'd said a moment before. "Beautiful as she is, I'm not so foolish as to throw my hat into the ring."

"The ring?" Ban asked.

"Of course," Darian exclaimed. "You must know, even with all that happened three months ago, very few people know for certain what happened. They see an absence in the empress' bedchamber, and no few are working up to courage to try to fill it."

Ban looked away and curled his lips in distaste. Not for Darian, per se, but for the nobility acting like a bunch of vultures. No one had yet dared to make an offer of courtship to Enfri, but it was only a matter of time.

Ban was irritated with Darian for a different reason. There he was being a gossip again. Ban wondered how it was that women got singled out as being the gossipy gender when the men Ban knew did it at least as often and with a tenth the self-awareness.

Darian leaned forward in his chair. "Forgive me if this is impertinent, my lord, but going back to the earlier subject, you did mention my situation isn't for you to decide."

Ban could see where this was heading from a mile off. He gestured for Darian to continue.

"Might I be granted leave to approach Her Majesty with my proposals regarding Nadia? I well understand the delicacy of the current politics in the empire, and I have no desire to throw a wrench into the clockworks. That said, Empress Enfri is brilliant, and she surrounds herself with minds just as brilliant as hers. I am positive that, between us, we can come up with a solution that will be of benefit to all parties involved."

He wants what he wants, Ban thought. You have to give him that much. He probably brought up Enfri in that way just to distract me so I'd let him talk to her about taking his throne back.

"You're an imperial guest in Shan Alee," Ban said. "You have every right to petition Her Majesty." Ban felt a sly grin coming on and quashed it before it could give him away. "Though, I would suggest you give it at least a day or two before approaching her."

Darian chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "In a foul mood?"

"No," Ban said, maybe over-exaggerating his denial a little. "Nothing like that. She's just preoccupied with other things at the moment. Give her a little time to deal with this and readjust."

Darian blinked in bemusement. "Oh? Might I ask what has the empress so preoccupied."

Ban affected surprise. "You haven't heard? Enfri's about as far from a foul mood as you can get. You see, Jin's back."

The look of abject fear that crossed Darian's face was almost too enjoyable for Ban to stop himself from grinning.

Almost.