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The Penitents have no issue with natural desire. Their monks offer up self-denial as a personal
sacrifice, to balance out the sinful excess of nonbelievers. Once Salvator sets aside his robes,
he will be stepping into another role. And the last thing he wants as High King is to be treated
like a monk in the bedchamber. Yet some women will dress up in their most conservative
gowns, covering over all the features that a man would have interest in seeing in an attempt to
play to that side of his nature. Trust me, their names will be forgotten before the sun sets."
Picking at a fold of Petrana's skirt, she said. "I take it your father chose this for you?"
Petrana nodded.
Siderea sighed. "Never let a man pick out your clothes, my dear. Unless that is part of your
seduction. They think they know how to manage it, but really, they haven't a clue."
"So what do you suggest, then?"
"Put on something attractive that compliments your coloring. The sort
of gown you might wear to receive well-born suitors at home. Modest but appealing. Let him
see that you have interest in him as a man, but that you are also a tasteful, intelligent woman
who can engage his mind. Follow his lead in conversation, but do not be too shy to have an
opinion if it is called for. And if he changes tack in mid-conversation, then that is a good
thing. You are being tested.
"I do believe that four years in the monastery have left their mark on him, but not in the way
that your father expects. Salvator may have been trained in his youth to excel in political
manipulation, but he left that world for a simpler one, in which casual lies have no purpose. I
expect that he is on his guard now, well aware of the complex plots being woven about him,
knowing that he must rise above them all if his crown is to be respected. It is a task he is
clearly capable of—else another child of Dan-ton would have claimed the throne—but you
can be sure that it exhausts his spirit. So give him something genuine. Wear clothing you are
comfortable with so that you can be yourself in front of him. Speak from the heart when you
address him, and if diplomacy demands that you must downplay some particular subject
matter, then turn his attention to something else. He knows the game and will follow your
lead. But do not lie to him. Nor compliment anything about him or his kingdom that you do
not truly admire. Vapid flattery is abhorrent to such a man, and those women who practice it
today will be forgotten tomorrow." She leaned back in her chair. "While you, on the other
hand, will offer him a brief respite from the whirlwind of courtly artifice, and he will
remember you favorably for it."
Petrana smiled slightly. "That does rather go against what I have been advised."
Siderea shrugged. "By old men and dried-up maidservants. Whom do you trust in such
matters?"
The girl bowed her head respectfully. "Your expertise is renowned."
"Expertise?" Siderea chuckled softly. "I do my research. That is all. No man is such a puzzle
that a proper study of his background will not reveal some crucial weakness. But you must
read the signs properly, else all your effort is wasted."
Leaning forward, she touched a finely manicured finger to Petrana's cheek, stroking the petal-
soft skin. A pleasing blush rose up beneath her fingertip. "I will give you more lessons later,"
she promised. She was close
enough now that the perfumed warmth of her breath filled the space between them. She could
see the girl's nostrils flare as she absorbed it. "You will come and visit me and I will teach you
all that I know. That is what you desire, yes?"
"Yes. Please."
"Then that is what you shall have." Siderea leaned back again, letting her hand fall to her side.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I do have some other matters to attend to." In truth she had no
real reason to leave, but it was always important to close such a meeting on the proper note.
To leave her companion wanting more.
"Of course, Your Majesty." Petrana stood up quickly, and curtseyed respectfully. "I am
grateful for the time you have given me. And all your advice."
At least the girl seemed more confident now. That was a good sign. A High Queen must be
confident.
She definitely had promise.
It was not until Siderea left the encampment some hours later, heading back to her chamber in
the palace, that she realized just what it was she had said.
You will come visit me and I will teach you.
A few days ago she'd had no future. Now she was planning for one. Did that mean there really
was hope for her? Or was she just so desperate that she would embrace a stranger's lies in
order to pretend that there was?
Either way, there was no denying that she felt a bit better now. And when she passed a
Magister on her way to the palace she gave him no more than a brief nod of acknowledgment.
Anticipating how delightful the moment would be when he and his kind finally realized they
were not the only game in town.
Chapter 9
"THIS ISN'T right."
Rhys scowled at the map in his hands then studied the land just ahead of them. The map
clearly showed a narrow pass in front of them. The land didn't.
With a muttered curse he went back to his horse and dug out the leather-bound volume of
maps that Master Favias had given them. In it were copies of every survey the Guardians had
ever made of this region, including detailed drawings with notes scrawled all over them. The
archivists were meticulous about keeping their work up to date, and made sure that every map
was updated or replaced as soon as new information was discovered. One never knew when a
particular quirk of geography might prove important, if not in guarding the Protectorates
while the Souleat-ers were in exile, then certainly in the war that would ensue once they
returned. The question of how to best move men and supplies from one point to another might
well prove pivotal in that final conflict, and the Guardians intended to be prepared for it.
But.
According to all the maps that Favias had given them, there should be a pass right in front of
them now, a low saddle between two high, sharp ridges. The reality was not nearly so
accommodating. There was indeed
one ridge to the left of them that more or less matched the drawings, and then another to the
right of roughly the same proportion that ended in tall, jagged peaks. But the latter was a
broken thing, with a deep gouge in its western flank, and beside it, filling in the pass, was a
veritable wall of stone. A few scraggly vines and year-old saplings were struggling to take
root in the scree along the lower slope, while the upper portion rose naked and forbidding,
sharp stone fragments silhouetted against the early morning sky. Far too steep to climb
comfortably and bad ground for horses even if it had been level. Not good. Not good at all.
"Earthquake, most likely." Namanti stood beside him, studying the map in his hands.
"Common enough in these parts. Looks like it split a good piece off that one." She pointed to
the broken peak, and with a wave of her hand traced the path of falling rubble. If she was
right, nearly half the formation had collapsed.
Lips tight, Rhys nodded.
She looked down at the map again. "Do we have anything more recent than this?"
He looked through the book, checking the date in the corner of every drawing. The most
recent map of this area was from a few years back; there had been no notes appended since.
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