Araine put her hands on her hips. “Do you expect me to be surprised? You couldn’t take your eyes off the girl all night.”
Gared looked at his feet. “Know she ent your first choice …”
“You don’t know as much as you think,” Araine said, “and we both know that’s not a lot to begin with. The lords will be in a frenzy, and Creator knows they’ll keep shoving Kareen and Dinny in your face, along with promises of wealth and pretty handmaids, but neither of those girls has what it takes to handle you, or the Hollow. My sons will snicker behind your back but they won’t oppose the match, and Emelia’s worth ten of any of them, whatever they may think they know of Rosal.”
Gared looked at the duchess in surprise. “You think I didn’t know?” Araine demanded. “Jessa works for me. She never would have paraded the girl before you if I hadn’t approved it.”
The slack look on Gared’s face pulled slowly into a wide smile. Araine cut it off before it swallowed his face, raising a finger. “You do right by that girl, Gared Cutter, and by Cutter’s Hollow. I’ll have your oath.”
“Swear by the sun,” Gared said eagerly.
Araine nodded. “And don’t get fat. Worst thing a man can do. No one respects a fat man on a throne, and once you lose respect, you’re just holding a seat.”
Few in the crowd looked pleased when Gared crowned Rosal Ball Queen, but none was any more surprised than Araine had been. Rojer played something triumphant for their last dance, and the Royals backed off to lick their wounds and lay their plans to change Gared’s mind.
As if there were a chance of that. The party shifted to drawing rooms as the ball ended, and still the young couple were inseparable.
Amanvah shook her head at them. “Don’t approve him marrying a heasah?” Rojer asked.
“Given the unworthy selection of potential brides, he had little choice,” Amanvah said.
“That almost sounds like approval,” Rojer said.
“Better if my father had given him a proper bride,” Amanvah said.
Rojer smiled. “I certainly can’t complain at his choices in that regard.”
He was a little drunk as they excused themselves from the party and made their way back to Rojer’s chambers. The main hall was filled with partygoers heading off to warded carriages, so Rojer led them to a back staircase where they could cross under to the guest wing and then up to their rooms on the fourth floor.
Rojer felt hopeful for once. The wedding would come as soon as Gared could arrange it, and they would soon be back in the Hollow where they belonged. Kendall had a skip to her step, never having performed at such a fancy event. She twirled in her silken ball gown, slashed in bright colors, laughing.
Coliv led the way down the stairs, as alert for trouble as he was in the night, even nestled in the duke’s stronghold.
But as he reached the landing there was a Tung! and he took a crank bow bolt in the shoulder.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Two men in the green and gold tabards of palace guards charged down the stairs above them, shoving hard and knocking Kendall and Sikvah into Rojer and Amanvah. They tumbled forward and Rojer cracked his chin against the last step just before having his breath knocked out as the others landed atop him.
Coliv threw his spear in the direction the shot had come from. There was a grunt of pain in the darkness, followed by another Tung! Coliv had his shield up in time, but the thin warded metal was designed to stop corelings, not crank bows. The bolt punched clear through, sprouting from the back of the Watcher’s neck.
Coliv turned to the guard closest to Amanvah, reaching into his robes and producing one of his sharp throwing triangles. He raised an arm as if he might ignore even this grievous wound to protect his mistress, but then he sank to his knees, choking on his own blood.
They scrambled to rise, but palace guards were coming from all sides now, carrying short, lacquered batons. As one came for him, Rojer flipped out the knives hidden in his sleeves. He threw one, but he was still drunk, and the blade went wide. He clutched the other tightly, unwilling to risk losing his only remaining weapon.
He dodged the first swing of the baton. And the second. Before the guard could recover enough for a third, Rojer was in close, burying his knife into the man’s side.
For all the good it did. The blade was small for ease of throwing and concealment. The guard seemed more angered than hurt when he backhanded Rojer across the face with the baton, sending him sprawling. Kendall ran to put herself between them, but the guard kicked her hard in the stomach and she fell back, stepping on Rojer’s face in the process.
Rojer tried to raise his knife, but the guard stomped hard on his wrist, and the blade fell from his fingers in a blast of pain. The baton was thrust into his stomach, and when he curled reflexively, the next blow took him in the balls. He screamed, but it was shattered as a third blow put out two of his teeth.
Rojer fell back stunned, seeing Amanvah and Sikvah choked from behind with batons. Whenever they struggled, the guards tightened their grips, choking them into submission. The men had the advantage in muscle and weight, either of them heavier than the women combined.
One of the crank bowmen lay farther down the hall, Coliv’s spear in his chest. Kendall was pinned by the other. His spent weapon was slung over his shoulder, and he held her wrists to the floor, kneeling on her thighs so she could not kick at him.
There was a clapping, and Jasin Goldentone came out of the shadows, followed by Abrum and Sali.
“Goldentone?” Rojer croaked.
“Oh, not Nosong now?” Jasin asked. “You remember respect late, Halfgrip.”
“Golden toad, I said.” Rojer tried to spit at him, but his lips were swelling fast. The slimy mix of blood and spit dribbled down his chin. Still, the move earned him another blow across the face.
“You piece of hamlet shit, you think you can just come to my city and humiliate me?” Jasin asked. “That you can spread lies and threaten my very commission, and not expect retaliation? You should know better than that.
“Not that it was hard to enlist allies.” Jasin nodded at Amanvah and Sikvah. “Tonight will make me a very rich man. You’d be surprised how many lords will pay good coin for a pair of Krasian princesses to hostage. More when I add proof that the Baron’s Ball Queen is a nothing but a royal whore.”
Sikvah pulled at the spear, but her captor tightened it further. “Best quit your squirming before you give me ideas, girl.”
“No ideas,” Jasin said. “Not here. We need to finish our business and be gone.”
“They killed Anders,” the guard pinning Kendall said. “Can’t let that go without blood in return.”
“He knew the risks,” Jasin said, “but you can beat Rojer and the girl to death in recompense.”
“Ay, all right.” The guard grinned, reaching for the baton on his belt.
“No!” Rojer tried to roll away, but the guard standing over him ground his boot heel into Rojer’s wrist, keeping it pinned as his baton repeated its pattern of stomach, balls, and head. Lights spun like drunken dancers before his eyes.
When his vision cleared, he looked at Amanvah. “I’m so sorry.” His words were a slur.
Amanvah met his eyes with a hard look. “Enough of this. Sikvah.”