In Dreaming Bound Read online

  Who would take revenge for Melanna, then, rather than Shironne or Perrin?

  Mikael laid his hands over his face, thinking. The office was quiet with neither Dahar nor Kai present. Almost like it’s my office.

  That was a chilling thought. He hadn’t taken much time to consider Pamini’s words of the previous day—that Dahar expected him to take over this office one day. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. Despite the fact that Kai had been the king’s presumed heir, for some reason Mikael had always expected that Kai would take over the Daujom. Wishful thinking.

  Mikael rubbed his temples for a moment. Ever since he was an Eight, he’d wanted to be a Fightmaster. He’d wanted to train young people to use the sword, to use their brains to fight better and faster. He’d hoped to train teams for the melee, although that interest had faded the first time he’d killed a man. Now he would prefer to teach students like Eli to take physical combat seriously. It was about staying alive, not just winning acclaim in the arena.

  Dahar was technically still a Fightmaster for the Lucas Family, but didn’t take students any longer. The Daujom ate up all his time . . . evidently the fate he intended to palm off on Mikael one day.

  This office was the Daujom’s public one. Mikael had always interfaced between the Daujom and the Larossan army and newspapers, while Dahar and Kai had dealt with the Anvarrid Houses, the Senate, and the king. That was what he would have to take over. Mikael didn’t look forward to it.

  Then again, someone had to do the work.

  Well, idiot, think like you’re in charge of the Daujom.

  If he was going to sit alone here in this office, he had to know the true scope of the Daujom’s mandate and abilities. The person best suited to help him with that—other than Dahar himself—was Anna Lucas in the second office.

  A key turned in the lock, and Mikael glanced up, relieved. Finally.

  Dahar stepped inside the door and closed it before approaching his desk. “I’m glad you’re here,” Dahar began. “I’ve got to sit down with her uncles’ lawyers again, and I barely have a moment to myself.”

  “Isn’t that something that Master Elias can handle?” Elias Lucas served as the Family’s main legal counsel but knew a great deal about Anvarrid law as well since he was also Lord Anaracin, the half-Family son of the last Anaracin king.

  Dahar ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Khader asked me to handle it personally.”

  Not the most diplomatic person for the king to ask to deal with lawyers, but Mikael supposed there was value to having a member of the Royal House bargaining with them. “I understand.”

  “I haven’t been in here,” Dahar said, “but if you go down and talk to Anna, she can lay out anything that needs to be done.”

  Well, that verified his plan, at least. “I was just going to talk to her, sir.”

  “Good,” Dahar said with a shake of his head, then headed for the door. “If there’s something pressing, let me know, and Kai said he’ll train someone as soon as we find a new aide.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he called after Dahar. It was good to know there was a plan.

  A few minutes later, Mikael secured the main office and made his way down the hall. When he knocked on the door of the second office, a moment passed before a young Larossan woman opened the door, wearing the garb of a servant: brown trousers that buttoned at the ankle, a long beige tunic, and brown slippers with no embroidery on them. “Hello Liva, may I speak to Anna?” he asked.

  “Please come in and wait.” Liva gestured toward three chairs set in the entryway. She settled back at her desk, twitched her ivory scarf back over her shoulders, and as far as he could tell, ignored him.

  She was Family-raised and -trained, just as he was, so he suspected weapons were hidden on her person. Or a pistol in the desk. Sentries stood in the hallway outside, but if an intruder managed to get past them, it was Liva’s job to stop them. Anna wouldn’t have given her this post if she weren’t certain Liva could defend the entryway.

  The entry room itself was a baffle. It was small enough to hold the clerk’s desk and a few chairs, but a second locked door stood between him and the hallway that held all the Daujom’s files and questioning cells. Not to mention several workrooms. The Daujom’s second office could only be accessed through this one point . . . although he honestly suspected there was an escape route elsewhere. The Family would probably have designed these offices, and they believed in the safety of multiple exits.

  The inner door opened and a small Larossan woman peered out at him. Like Liva, Anna Lucas wore the garb of a servant, allowing her to pass along hallways and streets unremarked. Her diminutive size belied her importance here. “Mikael, come in.”

  He rose and followed her down the secret hallway, past a half-dozen other clerks compiling information in the workrooms, and to her office.

  “How can I help you?” she asked as she sat behind her desk.

  It was a bit like Kai’s desk had always been, tidy and organized. Locked cabinets filled the wall behind her, keeping vital information hidden away, he supposed. Or possibly spare tea sets. He knew very little about Anna, and suspected she liked it that way.

  He settled in one of her straight-backed chairs. “Dahar has been very occupied with his sister’s family being moved into the palace,” he began. “With Kai gone, I am left on my own in the main office. I wanted to check with you, to make sure that everything the Daujom needs to be doing is being done.”

  She sat back and pressed her palms together in an attitude of prayer. “Are you concerned, Mr. Lee, that I might not be doing my job?”

  He’d fallen from Mikael to Mr. Lee, which hinted that he’d offended her. “Not at all. I have no doubt you’re doing your job. I’m worried that I’m not doing mine, Madam Lucas, so I thought I would ask for your guidance.”

  “In lieu of Dahar’s?” she asked, her dark eyes narrowed.

  The woman was likely near sixty, making her closer in age to the king than Dahar. She’d surely been in this office longer than Dahar. “Yes,” he said. “All the information funnels through you to the front office, so if anyone knows what needs to be done, it’s you.”

  “Well,” she said in a musing tone, “I suppose you have to grow up at some point, don’t you?”

  He probably should take offense at that. He’d been working for the Daujom for four years now and had taken on some fairly important missions in addition to his normal duties, one of which included trying to stop a small-scale civil war among the Jannsen Family. Then again, for Anna Lucas, that was likely an ordinary day’s work. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her head tilted as she peered at him with those dark eyes. “Dahar hasn’t been available to brief Jason for the last few days, so if you could take over that morning meeting with him, I would appreciate it.”

  Jason headed the king’s private guard and needed to be apprised of any direct threat to the king or the royal household. Most days that was a formality. “I can do that, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now, I have some information that needs to be discussed with Master Elias, but . . . as you need to develop a relationship with him, I will hand that over to you.” She opened a desk drawer, withdrew a folder, and passed it to him. She went on for a while longer, giving him a short list of things that should be handled by the public office rather than her people, and those alone would keep him busy for several days.

  “I’ll sort those out, ma’am,” he promised. “Do . . . you know anything about Colonel Cerradine’s decision to turn the bodies of the men who attacked Perrin Anjir over to the police?”

  “Is that why you’re here?” she asked him, dark eyes narrowing again. “The colonel shut you out, and you can’t stand not knowing?”

  If I deny that, she won’t believe me. He had no illusions that Anna hadn’t had the measure of him from the very day he’d first come to Lucas. “I don’t understand why he would protect someone who attacked the girls.”

  Anna gazed at him for a second before
speaking. “Mr. Lee, life is not as absolute as you want it to be. There are times when compromises need to be made.”

  He’d heard variations on this lecture for years. Sometimes deals were made with criminals to ensure that other criminals met their downfall. He’d always hated that. The line between one type of criminal and another often moved with worrying ease. “So we’re letting it slide to . . . what? Ensure that the person who tried to purchase Shironne is caught instead?”

  Anna’s lips twisted into a smile. “That’s close enough, Mr. Lee.”

  Meaning she won’t tell me anything. Mikael shook his head, picked up the file she’d given him, and rose. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She watched him as he left, probably no more fooled by his noncommittal statement than he’d been by hers.

  Chapter 16

  * * *

  TRIPS DOWN INTO the Fortress were different now.

  Mikael had to consider where Shironne was . . . and then avoid her. If he came into close proximity to her, even accidentally, would other sensitives detect there was something going on between the two of them? Better to be safe.

  After making his obeisance at the entry to the Fortress, he closed his eyes and tried to get an idea of where she was. His worry had been for naught, then, since she was actually up in the palace now, above him, most likely visiting her mother and sister. Somehow, they had passed each other.

  The hallways of any Fortress were bland gray walls unbroken by anything other than hallways or doors. There were no windows in Below, not underground as it was. The only art permitted on the walls were the geometric shapes painted along the upper edges of the wall where hands wouldn’t rub them off. The designs were intended to provide a focus for any mind that became unruly, the lines forming a labyrinth that, if the viewer followed them, would bring calm. In Lee Fortress, those designs had been painted in bright blues and reds, the colors of Lee. Here in Lucas, they were gray and black, bland against the bland walls.

  The Lucas claimed that their monochromatic home suited them.

  Mikael walked along the main hallway, contemplating that, and took the right turn two halls past the main stair that would lead him down toward the archives. This hallway contained not only the archives, but the legal offices, the quartermasters’ offices, and just about any other office that generated paperwork. It was, in its own way, the Family’s version of the Daujom. One of the clerks, an older, serious-looking woman, came out of the archive and headed down the hall alongside him. She gazed at her sheaf of papers as she walked, oblivious to him.

  Like many of those who worked in the Fortress as opposed to those who worked in the palace, she didn’t wear full uniform. That gave Mikael no way to know her place in these halls. He opted for a polite nod when she finally glanced his way. She merely returned it and disappeared into another doorway—the legal offices this time—sliding through as an older man stepped out into the hallway.

  Mikael paused, pleased to have found his quarry so easily. “Master Elias, I was actually coming to speak to you.”

  Elias was a year or two older than the king, which would put him in his early sixties, the sort of age one no longer announced with one’s name. Once a member of the Family reached that age, the chance that they were still living with others of their yeargroup was slim, so the identifier lost its meaning. Elias was still a healthy man, with excellent posture that made it obvious he was several inches taller than Mikael.

  Despite his graying blond hair, Elias was Anvarrid. Elias had taken after his Family mother, though, as had his younger sister. Neither of them had been deemed fit to be heir to the throne, leading King Imkhandrion to propose a Valaren as his heir instead. Mikael had never come away from a meeting with Elias, though, without thinking that Elias would have made an excellent king, if only the Senate would have approved him. A lot for Eli to live up to.

  “Why don’t we go back to my office?” Elias suggested, gesturing for Mikael to accompany him as he walked. “Is this about my son?”

  “No, sir.” Mikael followed Elias past the front area where legal clerks perused paperwork much like that which crossed his own desk. As the main legal counsel for the Family, Elias had a larger office in the back, although it was still a small office by the standards of Larossan or Anvarrid lawyers. It was far neater than Deborah’s, with bookshelves in place to hold the many volumes he needed. Mikael studied the leather-bound spines as he sat, wondering briefly if he could have similar shelves made for Deborah’s office. “This is actually about the Hedraya, sir. Has Dahar had a chance to advise you of their latest efforts? Since he’s busy with Valaren business, Anna suggested that I come down and talk with you.”

  Elias indicated that he’d not heard anything, so Mikael relayed the general contents of the folder. Lord Hedraya had been fomenting the overthrow of House of Valaren for years, but recently suggested that a coalition in the Senate could refuse to accept any heir the king put forward from his own house, forcing Khaderion to choose an heir from outside the House of Valaren. In his newest missives, Lord Hedraya suggested an alternative heir—his own younger son, the grandson of King Imkhandrion by Master Elias’ younger sister Eline.

  “Well, we expected he would do this eventually,” Elias said in a tired voice. “I suppose I’ll be called up in front of the Senate to support or deny the boy soon.”

  “I’ve checked,” Mikael told him. “The boy, Jessarion, isn’t old enough to be confirmed for a few years, so I think it can be put off, sir.”

  “He’s nineteen, Mr. Lee. His presence in the city will fuel Hedraya’s claims but can’t change the timing.”

  “He’ll turn twenty-five before Amserian,” Mikael noted. Dahar’s second child, Rachel, wouldn’t be the Valaren heir, so Mikael suspected that Amserian—Sera—would be in line next.

  “True. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hedraya didn’t try for a marriage between the two of them, now that she’s no longer betrothed to you,” Master Elias added. “Hedraya’s convinced the Anaracin line is the way to the throne so long as he can control the boy. I’ve already filed the appropriate documents to assure the boy’s not made my heir.”

  Although it was well known that Elias had been married for years and never fathered a child, his second marriage had never been made public. Lord Hedraya was clearly unaware that Elias had fathered two sons of his own. Eli would someday inherit the title of Lord Anaracin. Well, unless Master Elias chose to name his younger son Jonas as his heir instead, since Jonas was darker and more likely to be accepted by the senate.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier just to let House Hedraya know you have an heir?” Mikael asked.

  “Easier,” Elias said, “but not safer. I don’t want my sons murdered next time they step out of the Fortress. Eli plans to attend the law college, and that would make him a target.”

  Yes, Eli had his life planned out for the next several years. Mikael had heard those plans once or twice when Eli was in a talkative mood. “Do you think the Hedraya would hurt them?”

  Master Elias gave him a heavy-lidded gaze that managed to look supremely emotionless yet also sarcastic. “To assure his own son is proclaimed Lord Anaracin? Would the Meriviyen assassinate you, Mr. Lee, if they thought only you stood between them and title of Lord Vandriyen?”

  Mikael was, technically, the Vandriyen heir. His father, Valerion, had been approved as heir before his death, and Lord Vandriyen simply refused to accept that his favorite son was dead, and thus refused to name any other heir. Mikael was the next in line by default. Fortunately, he had a cousin who wanted that inheritance. Let him deal with the Meriviyen. “A good point, sir.”

  “This is why the Anvarrid have bodyguards.”

  Outright murder had once been a common political practice among the Anvarrid. Now they were more likely to opt for poisoning or other methods of making a death appear accidental. Mikael sighed. “I understand, sir. It’s your decision to make.”

  “Until Hedraya tries to have his
son declared Lord Anaracin, I’ll let it alone.”

  “We simply thought you should be aware of the change, sir.” He would take that answer back to Anna to tuck neatly into one of her many files. She’d wanted him to open a discussion over the matter, no more. “We will keep you apprised of any further activities along those lines.”

  Elias gazed at him, no hint of friendliness in his regard. “You do remind me of your father. You have his look.”

  That wasn’t meant as a compliment. Mikael had suspected before that Master Elias didn’t like him. Now he knew for certain. He hated for others to dislike him. This would keep him awake tonight. “Thank you, sir,” he said anyway.

  And having done his duty, Mikael left the almost-king there, perusing the papers he’d left behind.

  * * *

  Shironne finally reached her yeargroup’s floor that evening, with a tired body and worn mind. She’d eaten dinner with her mother and Perrin, although Perrin still wasn’t eating much. Shironne had no idea how to help her sister.

  “I was wondering where you were.” Tabita spoke from the front of the barracks hallway. “Usually we don’t visit with parents until Firstday, but they made an exception because of your sister.” Tabita grasped Shironne’s sleeve, tugged her over the rough guideline, and led her through the maze of chairs and tables that filled their yeargroup’s common room.

  Shironne heard no emotion in the other girl’s voice, but she could sense Tabita’s worry—and it wasn’t abated by her return. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Tabita lied as she led Shironne toward the common area. “It’s . . . nothing. Later.”

  Unsure what to do with that clearly false comment, Shironne settled on the couch Tabita brought her to and tucked her arms around her knees. Three other girls sat nearby, waiting for tea, a nightly ritual. That was the trio of Hanna, Norah, and Hedda. Tabita settled next to Shironne, a faint whiff of dinner clinging to her, and an air of frustration clouding the ambient around her.