soldiers to take adjoining chambers at the palace when their families visit. For important nobility, anyhow.”
“My place is with my men,” Jaryd said flatly.
“I doubt your father would agree,” Sasha ventured.
Jaryd snorted. “My father doubts I can make an adequate Great Lord of Tyree. He gave me command of the Falcon Guard so that I might learn better. Well, I'm certainly learning. I'm learning a great many things.”
“Such as?”
“Who my friends are,” Jaryd said angrily. “There are men my own age, whom I grew up with and learned to spar and ride with, all here for Rathynal and yet they've barely even said hello. They have no honour, any of them.”
Sasha took a deep breath. “Jaryd…I admire your conviction, but…isn't it a little foolhardy to be picking a fight with your own father? And with all the assorted nobility of Tyree? You're going to rule these people one day, you'll need their support…”
“When I rule,” Jaryd said stubbornly, “I'll rule in my own way, according to the values I've learned. Maybe they'll learn to like it—it can't be good having no honour in your life. Besides, you'd rather I lied, and said you'd killed that bastard Reynan?”
“I can take care of myself,” Sasha said shortly.
“In a fair fight, I've no doubt,” Jaryd agreed. “But you saw Pyter Pelyn on the lagand field. These people don't fight fair, M'Lady…I mean Sasha. That's what it means to have no honour. When I'm Great Lord, that's the first thing I'll teach them.”
It was nearing midday when she emerged from Jaryd's chambers. She had not walked ten strides around a corner when a man in a pale green, lordly shirt emerged from a doorway ahead, a sword swinging at his hip. Clearly a nobleman. She glanced over her shoulder and found another man of similar appearance walking behind her. Damn.
More men emerged from the open doorway the first man had come from. One was tall with a gaunt, bony face and silver hair. He wore a cloak of red and gold—pure vanity, Sasha thought, for the air was not cool. That man had five companions all nobly attired, with swords at their sides.
Sasha stopped, her heart beating faster. Her right hand flexed, unconsciously rehearsing the fast reach to the hilt above her left shoulder. “Lord Kumaryn,” she said, attempting pleasantry. “Have you been waiting here for me all this time?” Some spy must have seen her heading to Jaryd's chambers. The Falcon Guard may have liked Jaryd, but they remained a company of Tyree and there were bound to be some spies reporting to the lords. But Kumaryn came himself?
“Did you have a pleasant meeting with your new lover?” Kumaryn asked. His voice was hoarse and reedy. His blue eyes were hard with malice. There were great lords in Lenayin whom Sasha did not like, yet could not help but respect. Kumaryn was not one of them. The man was petty and vain.
Sasha smiled. “You'd like to think so, wouldn't you? Scared I'll wed him and raise heirs of Tyree as Nasi-Keth?”
Kumaryn scowled. “You'd never dare! The lords of Tyree would never stand for it!” He thought I was being serious, Sasha realised in disbelief.
“Jaryd Nyvar would be foolish to do so, my Lord,” said a smooth voice at Kumaryn's side. “With this one, he'd have to always wonder if the child was truly his. I hear she's had half the men in Baerlyn, and some of the women too.”
The speaker was a man of short stature. He had perhaps thirty summers, with a round face and short hair. The Verenthane star hanging from his neck was twice the size of his compatriots. That, plus his northern accent, made Sasha fairly certain of his origin.
“Please, Master Stranger,” she said reasonably, “it's impolite to insult someone without first offering your name. How else will I know whom I kill?”
“If you wish to challenge,” the northerner said with a smile, “then you may challenge Yuan Martyn Ansyn. I and my sword shall be waiting for you.”
“Martyn Ansyn.” Sasha's eyes narrowed. “Heryd Ansyn's brother, yes?”
“The very one.”
Family Ansyn were Family Telgar's oldest allies in Hadryn. There was much shared blood between them, and Lord Heryd was said to have been the old Great Lord Telgar's closest friend.
“So the lords of Hadryn and Valhanan lock arms at last,” said Sasha, surveying the group before her. There were two men behind her—seven in all, including Kumaryn and Martyn. More Hadryn than Valhanan, to judge from the cut of their