Read Online Spy's Honor by Amy Raby - Free Book Online

men and women,” said Janto. “The old and the very young they have no use for. They line them up on the beach and slaughter them.”
    She looked down at her book. This was how he saw her, as the offspring of mass murderers.
    â€œIs this how your people put an end to war and strife? By slaughtering children? Princess, this is a horrific corruption of the Soldier’s purpose. The Soldier stands for courage and strength, not brutality and aggression.”
    â€œWar is an unpleasant business, but it’s not—it’s not for me to judge the methods . . . ,” she stammered.
    â€œYou’ve never
seen
the methods, have you?” said Janto. “War is abstract for you. You don’t know what your soldiers actually do.”
    She gave him an odd look. “No, because Florian never lets me go anywhere. How can I know?”
    â€œAsk questions and learn,” said Janto. “You’re a smart woman. You know more now than you did half an hour ago.”

6
    R hiannesighed as her attendants fussed over her, making every fold of her gown lie flat and even and every curl in her hair fall in just the right place. It was ridiculous. She was going riding, so in no time at all it would be a mess.
    Augustan’s ship had arrived during the night. He’d been escorted up to the palace and ensconced in a stateroom, so she had been told. She was due at the audience chamber, midday, for their formal introduction.
    The gown was one of her favorites, green and ivory with gold accents, attractive but reasonably practical; she could wear it in the sidesaddle. Florian had tried to convince her to wear the imperial orange, but with her coloring she simply could not wear orange and come off looking like anything but a butternut squash.
    A knock came at the door.
    â€œTami?” called Rhianne.
    The door cracked open. “It’s time.”
    Rhianne hopped off her chair and headed for the door, trailed by her entourage, eager to get this frightening business over with. She straightened her shoulders as she walked down the hallway. Perhaps if she could muster the outward appearance of confidence, it would stop her hands from trembling.
    When she entered the audience chamber, her eyes went everywhere, searching for the man who must be Augustan, but there was no one in the room she did not already know. Florian stood on a raised platform. The marble throne—one of several he used, in multiple chambers—loomed just behind him, but he was not sitting in it today. The jewel-encrusted loros glittered on his chest. Lucien, immediately to his right, stood balanced on his wooden leg, hands tightly interlaced behind his back as if he wished he could sit on them. The other people in the room were Florian’s usual set of advisers and Legaciatti.
    â€œYou look spectacular, my dear,” said Florian, gesturing to the empty spot on his left.
    Rhianne took her place beside her uncle, straightened her gown, and waited.
    â€œBring him in,” called Florian.
    A door opened at the far end of the room and three men appeared, one in front and two just behind him—Augustan and his entourage, Rhianne guessed. All were in military dress. If the man in front was Augustan, he was handsome, at least. The three walked smartly up to Florian and knelt before him, bowing as one.
    â€œRise,” said Florian. The men obeyed. “Augustan Ceres.” Florian stepped forward and clasped wrists with the foremost man.
    â€œYour Imperial Majesty,” answered Augustan.
    As they completed their formal greeting and Augustan introduced his two underlings, Rhianne scrutinized him. She couldn’t fault him in the looks department. He was typical Kjallan in many respects: big and muscular, dark in coloration, though his hair was closer to brown than black. He had a pleasing face, although its lines suggested he didn’t smile much, and a scar cut a small jagged line across his chin. She