Read Online Requiem for Anthi: Anthi - Book Two by Deborah Chester - Free Book Online Page B

had been born in the House of Spandeen and was still inclined to their love of excessive display. Her gown was all of gold, stiff and shimmering, with exquisite beadwork across the wide skirts and a pleated ruff standing up behind her head. She looked as though she were dressed for a visit of state, and for an instant Aural thought she was on her way to visit Zaula in the manner of custom.
    “Poor idiot,” said Dame Pasau. “Does Zaula understand that there will be no visits, no feasts, no homage? She has never been an intelligent person. Her marriage to Leiil Hihuan was an unrivaled feat of political maneuvering on the part of her father and matriarch. But she must forget all that now. I hope you have not raised hopes in her head by going to her?”
    Aural narrowed her eyes. “She is the fool, not I.”
    “She should have died. It was a difficult birth. My head still echoes with all the screaming last night. But then she should have died when Hihuan did. Now she will meddle. She will drive Unar mad, or else bewitch him. He never could resist a pretty little body.”
    “She won’t meddle.”
    Something flickered in Dame Pasau’s eyes. “A riddle, is it? What have you done, locked her away? A waste of guards, especially now when Unar needs all the manpower he can find. The Soot’dla have arrived.”
    Aural blinked, startled by that last, unexpected statement. “What?”
    “Ah, so there are things you don’t monitor.”
    Aural frowned, angry at herself for showing surprise and angry at Dame Pasau for provoking it. “They have come quickly.”
    “Of course. It is an emergency. The Bban horde must be stopped from committing any more atrocities. Come,” said Dame Pasau, actually taking Aural’s sleeve. “Don’t look at me as though you mean to strike me dead for my impertinence. I’m too old to care, and there’s more at stake here than your notions of self-consequence.” She paused and cocked her head. “Or don’t you want to be present when I receive Dame Agate, the traitoress?”
    Aural stared down at her, and after a second her anger began to fade. Reluctantly she returned the matriarch’s smile, recognizing for the first time that perhaps she had a better puppet here than Unar would ever be. Better, because Dame Pasau would assume she was an ally and would never know the extent to which she was being used in a far larger, far more serious contest.
    Aural gestured graciously. “Lead, noble dame.”
    The reception hall of the citadel was long and narrow with a tall vaulted ceiling that made it impossible to heat or light adequately. Fires had been lit in braziers set all along the room, but they were a poor, smelly comfort. Aural’s eyes stung from the smoke. She retreated, deciding not to go in. These petty political meetings bored her.
    But as she backed up, she collided with a muscular chest. Her smallest rings flickered against Unar’s, and sparks struck in a friction that made her shiver with excitement. She turned quickly to face him, smiling into his eyes.
    He smiled back, his handsome face relaxing from its stern lines. His gaze roamed, savoring the beauty of her lithe body. Pleased, she tilted back her head, basking in his worship. Unar was a straightforward man, ambitious and sufficiently short on conscience. He was very easy to lead.
    “My Unar,” she murmured, her voice husky. Her rings enticed his to level one, darting, teasing to level two. She heard the breath tangle in his throat. “Battle armor. Guards around you. Rationed fuel flaming in every hearth. Is all this display just to impress the Soot’dla?”
    His eyes were beginning to glaze. She watched the struggle in his face as he sought to control himself away from her seduction.
    “There—there is no time for anything less,” he said thickly, averting his gaze from hers. “A regency must be declared. The houses must unite now before the Bban horde strikes again. Then we’ll show those curs how the true Tlar’jen