Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

54

The scent of the camp fire was proof that they'd entered the Imperial Army's perimeter. As they drew nearer, Uachi made out the spark of other camp fires glowing through the trees. Once they had gone a short way through the darkness, he recognized the silhouettes of tents farther on, one of them much larger than the others.

"His Grace will still be awake," muttered Caolan. "You'll want to keep your, er, pets out here. We'll find some scraps for them. When did you come by the second one?"

"On the journey south. I...Yes. I'll keep them out here." The guise had been enough to keep Uarria safe at court; it would certainly be enough to keep her safe here among friends.

Caolan nodded to one of the guards standing outside the imperial tent; now that he was closer, Uachi could see Matei and Mhera's device emblazoned on the side of it: linked rings, one silver, one gold. "Captian Uachi here to consult with His Grace."

"Captain," the woman at the tent said in surprise. She glanced inside the tent, then straightened. "Please, just a moment. His Grace requested not to be disturbed, but—for you, I'm certain..." She broke off and stepped inside.

From his vantage point, Uachi could not see Matei nor hear him moving around, but he sensed him there in the darkness of the tent, and he feared what was to come. When he had left the Holy City he had not been on good terms with the emperor and had been on even worse terms with his best friend.

"His Grace will see you," said the guard, stepping out of the tent. She held open the flap and nodded her head, indicating that Uachi and Diarmán should go inside.

Uachi drew a breath. He exchanged a look with Diarmán; the Faelán man cocked his head, lifting a brow in question.

"Girls. Wait here." Uachi pointed at the cats and then at the ground; Farra made a low, grumbling noise deep in her chest, but she lowered herself to her haunches, and Uarria followed suit. Then Uachi looked at Diarmán. "You, come with me."

Diarmán smirked. "Of course, Captain. I live to obey." Despite his sarcasm, he followed Uachi inside.

Whatever Uachi had expected when he first saw Matei after months apart, it was not what awaited him.

The emperor stood in the center of the tent, his hands loose at his sides, no crown in sight. He was wearing a tabard in his own colors, emblazoned with the linked rings. It was sooty and muddy and splattered along the left side with blood. Matei's face was drawn and pale, filthy with the dust of travel and the dirt of battle.

There were tears in his eyes.

"Goddess above," he breathed, looking Uachi full in the face. He stepped toward him slowly. Hesitantly. Uachi stood rooted to the spot, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. "Uachi, you fool. You thrice-damned fool."

"Matei." Uachi's voice sounded husky to his own ears with restrained emotion. "I—" He fought the burning sensation rising in his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Be quiet," said Matei. He jolted forward, drawing Uachi into a tight embrace.

Uachi returned Matei's embrace, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Matei's shoulder. Both of them stank of sweat and dirt and blood. Much passed unspoken between them as they stood there until at last, Uachi pulled back, putting his hands on the emperor's shoulders. Seen up close, Matei's face was haggard, older than it had been when he had left the Holy City in disgrace. There were dark shadows beneath Matei's eyes that told a story of many sleepless nights, and, to Uachi's surprise, he saw the first glint of silver at his friend's temple. Just a couple of hairs, no more, but visible in the firelight.

"You look terrible," Matei said.

And, because he had just been thinking the same thing, Uachi laughed. "Not near as bad as you, I'd reckon. Gods below," he murmured. "It is so good to see your face."

"Gods below?" Matei echoed.

Uachi simply shook his head, reminded that Diarmán was here with them. He fought the urge to look over his shoulder to see what Diarmán had made of his reunion with Matei.

"I have gone these past turnings of the moon afraid that the last words I spoke to you would be the last I could ever speak," Matei said.

Uachi did not know what to say.

"Are you well, Uachi? Truly?" Matei's gaze searched his face and then surveyed his body, as if searching for wounds.

Uachi had never felt quite so exhausted. The full truth was too much to reveal in that moment—but neither was he a man who could lie. He sighed. "There's a story there, Matei. But yes. I'm all right. I have news for you that is best provided in confidence."

For the first time, Matei looked over Uachi's shoulder, taking in the sight of his flame-haired companion with surprise. "Good evening."

Diarmán looked as if he was not sure how to react. He shifted on his feet, and then he gave a flourishing bow. Uachi, who knew him well enough now, could sense the sarcasm in the gesture. "Your Grace."

"This is Lord Diarmán of House Eldran," said Uachi.

"Ah. I am familiar with House Eldran. It's in the center of Narr, is it not?"

Diarmán looked surprised. "It is, Your Grace."

"We have corresponded with your...father?"

"Grandfather."

Matei nodded his head, looking thoughtful. "I hope the conflict has left your family and your lands unscathed, my lord, although it may be cold of me to say it. It can be challenging to count the human cost in a war; we end up praying for the faces we know."

"I'd have thought you'd be glad to chuck some of us into an early grave," said Diarmán. "With the Houses of Narr allying themselves with House Olarian, we must have been thorns in your side."

"But Eldran was not one of them, was it? You did not pledge men to Penrua's cause, but unless I recall your grandfather's letter poorly, you didn't take up arms against us, either. In any case, I know a bit more about what it means to stand on the other side of the sword than my predecessor did. So, well-met, Diarmán. I will see you comfortably settled for the evening while I confer with my captain."

"No, Matei. If you don't mind, we owe rather a lot to this ruddy-headed lordling. I'd have him stay, if you will."

Matei hesitated, skating his gaze again over Diarmán's face. Then he nodded his head, looking past the two men to the guard at the door and making a gesture of dismissal. The guard straightened, bowed, and then stepped out, and the flap of the tent fell into place, dividing them from the world outside.