“Not entirely,” murmured Lady Aquitaine. She tested the temperature of the water, and then lay her fingers on Fidelias’s temples. “Without the dagger, Gaius has nothing but suspicions.”
“But he knows,” Fidelias said. He felt briefly dizzy as a slow wave of warmth pulsed over him. His aches began to vanish into a molten cloud of blessed relief. “He knows. Aquitaine isn’t working in secret any longer.”
Lady Aquitaine smiled. Then she stepped around the tub and let the silk robe slip from her shoulders. She slid into the water with Fidelias and wrapped her arms around the man’s shoulders. “You worry too much.”
Fidelias shifted uncomfortably. “Lady. Perhaps I should go. Your husband —”
“Is busy,” Lady Aquitaine purred. She gestured, and in the water shapes rose, solid outlines as though dolls upon a tiny stage. There were two figures there, on a great bed in a well-appointed chamber, writhing together in sensual completion, then kissing, slow, heavy kisses.
“There, sweet lady,” Aquitaine’s voice, tinny and distant murmured. “Are you feeling better?”
“Attis,” a young woman’s voice whispered, lazily contented. “So strong.” She shivered and began to sit up. “I should go.”
“Nonsense,” Lord Aquitaine said. “He’ll be handing out rewards for hours yet. You and I have time for more.”
“No,” she murmured, “I shouldn’t.” But Fidelias could hear the excitement in her voice.
“You should,” Aquitaine murmured. “There. That’s better.”
“Such a lover,” the woman sighed. “And soon, we can be together like this whenever you desire.”
“That’s right,” Aquitaine said.
“And Lady Aquitaine?” the woman asked.
Lady Aquitaine’s lips split in a cool little smile.
“She won’t be a problem,” Lord Aquitaine said. “No more talking.”
Fidelias watched as Gaius Caria, First Lady of Alera, wrapped her arms around Lord Aquitaine and drew him closer to her.
“You see,” Lady Aquitaine purred, letting the images slide away into the water again. “We have more than one knife at his back.” She turned to Fidelias, her lips at his ear, and he felt himself begin to respond with slow, ardent hunger. “The story is not yet done.”
Gaius Sextus, First Lord of Alera, descended to the Calderon Valley upon a winged steed of pure fire. Around him flew a full Legion of Knights Aeris, five thousand strong, and the Royal Guard in their scarlet capes, Knights Ferro and Ignus, Knights Aqua and Terra and Knights Fauna, all of them of ancient high blood. Trumpets announced their arrival, and despite the vast numbers of men aloft, the air hardly seemed to stir. The First Lord descended on Bernardholt with a full Legion in his train, and the people of the Calderon Valley turned out to meet him.
Amara stood foremost before the crowds, and Gaius dismounted, the stallion of flame vanishing to a wisp of smoke as he did. Amara knelt as he approached her, but he took her hand and raised her to her feet, embracing her with gentle arms. He wore the scarlet and azure of Alera, a blade at his side, and carried himself with pride and strength, though there seemed to be more lines of care worn into the corners of his eyes.
He stood up and looked down at her eyes, smiling. “Amara. Well done.”
Amara felt the tears touch her eyes, and she straightened with pride. “Thank you, sire.”
The Legion settled behind them like hundreds of gleaming, deadly dragonflies, and Amara stood a little straighter in her borrowed gown. “Sire, I’ll present them to you in the order I discussed in my report?”
Gaius nodded. “Yes. Do. I’m eager to meet them.”
Amara called out, “Let Frederic of Bernardholt approach the Crown.”
There was a startled gulp from the crowd, and someone pushed the tall, brawny youth up out of the crowd to the general laughter of the holders. Frederic looked around, folding his hands nervously, then sighed and walked forward to Amara and the First Lord. He began to bow, then knelt, then changed his mind and stood up to bow again.
Gaius laughed and took the young man’s hand and shook it firmly. “I am given to understand, young man, that you bested not one but two of the mercenary Knights in single combat, armed with only a shovel.”
“Spade, sir,” Frederic corrected him. Then flushed. “That is, uh. I hit them, yes sire.”
“And I am told that in the battle, you defended a door of a building in the east courtyard, protecting the children inside from harm at the hands of the Marat.”
“Yes. With my spade, sir. Sire. Sorry.”
“Kneel, young man.”
Frederic swallowed and did. Gaius drew his sword, and it gleamed in the sun. “For courage, loyalty, and resourcefulness in the face of enemies of the Realm, Frederic of Bernardholt, I do hearby dub thee a Knight of the Realm, with all the responsibility and privileges therein. You are, from this day, a Citizen of the Realm, and let no man dispute your devotion. Rise, Sir Frederic.”
Frederic stood up, stunned. “But . . . but all I know is herding gargants, sir. I don’t know about that fighting and whatnot. Sire, sorry.”
“Sir Frederic,” Gaius intoned, “I wish all of my Knights knew a skill so useful.” He smiled and said, “We will discuss, in time, your duties here.”
Frederic bowed, clumsily. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Sire. Sir.”
Gaius gestured, and Frederic took a few dazed steps to one side.
Amara called, “Let Bernard of Bernardholt come forth.”
Bernard, dressed in rich fabrics of brown and woodland green, stepped forward from the crowd and dropped to one knee before Gaius, bowing his head.
Gaius took Bernard’s hand and raised him. “I understand you helped take over matters when Gram was injured.”
“I only helped, sire,” Bernard said. “I did what anyone would have.”
“You did what anyone should have,” Gaius said. “There is a difference. A broad difference. Steadholder, your courage in the face of such overwhelming danger is not overlooked.”
Once again, Gaius tapped his sword to either shoulder. “By the authority of the Crown, I do hereby dub thee Bernard, Count of Calderon.”
Bernard’s head snapped up, and he blinked.
Gaius smiled. “With all the responsibility and privileges therein, and so on. Rise, good Count.”
Bernard stood up, staring at Gaius. “But Gram is the Count here.”
“Gram is now a Lord, I’m afraid, your Excellency.” Gaius lowered his voice with a glance around. “He has a comfortable assignment in the Amaranth Vale now, while he recovers from his injuries. I need someone who the local people respect and who I can trust to take over for him. Also someone who the Marat will respect. You’re it.”
Bernard’s face slowly spread into a smile. “Thank you, sire. I’ll . . . do my best not to disappoint you.”
“You won’t,” Gaius said. “We’ll need to keep in close touch at first.” The First Lord glanced aside at Amara and said, “I will have to appoint a special courier to be our go-between. I’ll see if I can find someone willing to come all the way out here.”
Bernard flushed, and Amara felt her own face heating at the same time.
“Thank you, sire,” Bernard said, more quietly.