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

supposed one could hardly wage war as long as Augustan had without collecting an occasional such memento of battle.
    â€œI would like to introduce you,” Florian was saying, “to my niece and adopted daughter, Rhianne Florian Nigellus, Imperial Princess of Kjall.”
    â€œLegatus,” said Rhianne, stepping forward and clasping his wrist.
    His face broke into what looked like an unaccustomed smile.
    She sat through the usual litany of platitudes and welcome speeches from her uncle, which seemed to bore Augustan as much as they bored her, and finally the two of them were dismissed to the stables for their planned ride, escorted by a dozen servants and Legaciatti. The horses were waiting for them, tacked and ready to go, although Rhianne’s mare, Dice, was wearing the hunt saddle instead of the requested sidesaddle. The groom, when he spotted Rhianne’s gown and realized his mistake, went as white as the mare and led the animal back inside for a tack change.
    Augustan swung up on Flash, the dapple gray gelding with a curious tail that was ivory on one side of his body and black on the other. Dice came back wearing the sidesaddle, and the apologetic groom boosted her up and handed her the riding crop. Rhianne hooked her right leg over the saddle horn and smoothed her gown. She preferred riding astride, but Florian had insisted on a formal gown, and he was the emperor, so that was that. The irony was that riding sidesaddle was more precarious and thus more dangerous than riding astride, so, far from being chivalrous, asking a woman to ride sidesaddle demanded more skill from her and asked her to take greater risks than a man. But Rhianne had long given up trying to make sense of it.
    She was at no great risk riding Dice. The mare was gentle, with smooth gaits, and her name came from her coloration, not from any tendency toward risky behavior. Dice’s natural color was what horsemen called flea-bitten gray—white flecked with black spots—but the stable staff bleached out the spots, having decided pure white was a color more appropriate for the mount of a princess.
    Augustan steered Flash alongside her. “You ought to have that groom whipped.”
    â€œBecause of the saddle?” She shook her head. “It was a natural mistake. I usually ride this mare with the hunt saddle.”
    â€œDon’t permit your staff to be lax and lazy around you. It speaks to a lack of discipline. You are a princess, and they should fear to displease you.”
    Rhianne stiffened her shoulders. She liked Dice’s groom, who had a close personal connection with the mare and spent hours every day grooming and massaging and exercising the animal, keeping her happy and in top condition. She would not jeopardize that over a tack error. Was Augustan always so rigid and punitive? So far he was fitting bullet-to-bore with his reputation as a stern disciplinarian.
    They set off, trotting and cantering down well-worn bridle paths, trailed not so discreetly by their entourage, now also mounted. Rhianne led the way since she knew the lay of the land. South of the Imperial Palace was the city of Riat, but on the other three sides were lands belonging to the imperial family, pastures and plains dotted with lakes, and forests of all types, most of them cultivated, but there were two ancient, old-growth forests that the continent’s many wars had miraculously left untouched. Rhianne led her fiancé-to-be on a tour through some of the finest of these lands, and when the horses began to tire, she and Augustan dismounted at the side of a lake and picnicked, their entourage setting out blankets and food.
    â€œYou are not quite what I expected,” said Augustan, biting into a pigeon tart.
    â€œOh?” Rhianne looked at him sidelong. “And what did you expect?”
    â€œA more delicate, retiring sort of woman. Don’t get me wrong. I’m quite pleased with you.”
    Rhianne wasn’t sure