The Faceless Mage - Kenley Davidson Page 0,28
of an uproar coming from the hall outside her rooms. Not stopping to wonder whether it was appropriate for a princess, Leisa rushed from her bedroom into the antechamber where her new bodyguard lurked, arriving just as the door from the hall burst open.
“…speak to Her Highness immediately!”
Four of Evaraine’s guards entered the room, swords drawn. Zander came first, followed by Kip, then Terek and Nyssa.
They formed a line, leather and steel contrasting oddly with the brocade furnishings and velvet curtains. Plush red carpet cushioned their feet, and Leisa tried not to imagine the pile hiding the blood of men and women she’d known since she was a child.
But as they faced the still, dark form of the Raven, she felt only a chill certainty that their blood would be spilled if she didn’t stop this immediately.
“What is going on here?” Leisa asked, aiming for flustered, verging on alarmed. “Zander, did His Majesty send you? Or is there some threat of which I am not aware?”
“The threat is standing right there,” Kip said harshly, jerking the tip of his sword minutely to indicate Leisa’s new bodyguard. “Perhaps you didn’t know, but as soon as we were separated, they forbade us from attending you or even seeing you without permission.” Fury was visible in every line of his face, and Leisa felt a brief pang as she wondered whether Evaraine had ever returned his regard. He wasn’t the sort of man Leisa herself found appealing, though she couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful. Such devotion… she wouldn’t mind having someone—anyone—who cared about her simply for herself. Leisa. Orphan and bodyguard. Not particularly gifted mage. No one particularly special.
King Soren cared to a point. Princess Evaraine probably cared. But only because she was useful.
“Oh!” Leisa allowed understanding to dawn in her eyes. “All is well, I assure you. This man has been assigned as my personal bodyguard by His Majesty, King Melger.” She took care not to let them see what she really thought of the situation. As a clueless, backwoods princess, she could have no idea of what any of this meant. She most certainly must not roll her eyes. “A few of you will be allowed to remain, but due to certain security measures, my day to day protection will be seen to by Garimore.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Zander said grimly, “but that’s not good enough. Your father has tasked me with ensuring your safety, and I will not entrust it to a stranger. Garimore has overstepped, and I will stand by my objections in front of His Majesty King Melger if necessary.”
Then had King Melger lied? He claimed Soren knew about these “security measures,” but why would Soren not have at least informed her guards?
Leisa wasn’t given the luxury of a moment in which to consider this discrepancy. She actually saw the Raven move this time, as he interposed himself between her and her guards with slow, sinister grace.
“Step away from Her Highness,” Zander ordered, threat darkening his tone, and Leisa knew if she didn’t resolve this, someone would die. All hope of alliance, genuine or sham, would be drowned in blood.
Before she could decide how to proceed, the Raven’s sword materialized in his hand.
Two of Leisa’s guards took a step towards him, ratcheting the tension in the room to its highest point and leaving her with a split second in which to choose her way forward. She could continue to be shy and retiring—continue to give them the Evaraine they expected—but if she did, someone’s blood would be staining the carpet within the next few moments.
She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch people she cared about die for the sake of pretense.
Leisa darted forward, around the black-clad wall of muscle and armor, and threw herself between the five of them with a cry of “Stop!”
Everyone froze, herself included. She heard a whimper of terror from one of the maids, or possibly Lady Piperell, but she didn’t dare move to find out.
Three blades hung motionless in the air, only inches from the skin of her throat.
“Your Highness.” Zander’s whisper was hoarse, shaky. “What are you doing?”
Leisa was asking herself the same question, but second-guessing would have to wait. “There will be no bloodshed here tonight,” she said, lifting her chin in a display of certainty she was far from feeling. “If Farhall and Garimore are to be joined in alliance, we cannot possibly begin with violence and suspicion. All of you, put away your weapons. Now.”
Her guards only stared