Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

56

Inside his large tent, Matei indicated a small, low tea table that stood in the corner. "Come and sit."

Uachi followed him and settled down on the ground, which was covered with a rug. Diarmán stood where he was, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and clasping his hands behind his back. Uachi looked up at him with a frown. "Get your arse over here," he muttered. "You've been invited to drink with the bloody emperor."

Diarmán jerked into motion. He took a place on the other side of Uachi, crossing his legs and darting him a dark look.

If Matei had overheard, and Uachi was certain he had, he gave no indication of it. "I am surprised to see you without Farra," he said, pouring wine.

Uachi accepted the cup of wine that was passed his way and turned it in his hands. He looked down into the cup, surprised by how being in Matei's presence put him in mind of home.

The Holy City...it had become home to him. It was strange to think it. Were he asked, he would still say he had no love of Karelin, and now the memory was further tainted by everything he had lost. The guard house where he had lived with Ealin, the table where they had shared meals, the window near which they had stood to watch the falling rain or the snow or the sunshine, all of it would carry the sting of her betrayal and the grief of her brutal death.

The neatly-made bed...The burning lantern...The scent of soap...

"Uachi?" Matei looked concerned.

"I'm sorry. Tired." He took a sip of wine.

"It's the cat he wants to talk to you about, I suspect. Your Grace." Diarmán had accepted a cup of wine as well, but he had not sampled it.

Matei raised his eyebrows, turning to Uachi. "Oh?"

"You'll not believe the story. It's too fantastic. But try, Matei. You know I never lie to you." Uachi set aside his wine and rose again. The others watched him as he went across the room and parted the flaps of the tent. He clicked his tongue, and a familiar head poked into the tent—Farra, black and massive, her pointed ears at Uachi's waist. After her came the smaller shadowcat, a little lighter in color, like charcoal and smoke.

What Uachi didn't expect was for Uarria to dash across the room in a few enormous bounds and tackle the emperor flat to his back.

"Stop!" he barked, but to no avail; Uarria was crouched on her father's chest, rumbling with a purr, licking his face with her massive pink tongue. Matei, who had struggled at first, now lay still, his hands on Uarria's forelegs and an expression of bewildered amusement on his face. "You got—pthfft!—" He wrinkled his nose, turning his face away from Uarria's undiscriminating tongue and wiping his sleeve across his mouth. "You got a new cat! Ouch—careful there, you menace, I took a stave to the side yesterday."

Uachi stared as Matei struggled, laughing. He had no idea how he could venture into the confession that awaited.

Diarmán looked at Uachi, raising his eyebrows and motioning toward the scene. Uachi shook his head sharply and held up a hand. Give me a moment to think.

Diarmán rolled his eyes. "It's your daughter," he said.

The blood flooded out of Uachi's face.

"Your Grace," Diarmán added, an afterthought.

Matei began to sit up, and Uarria, who was purring so loudly she might have been a thunderstorm, backed away. She held her tail straight up, and her ears were pricked forward. She nudged her head against Matei's hand and then rubbed her face against his chest. "What did you say?" Matei asked, staring down at the cat. He did not look amused.