Kingslayer by Honor Raconteur Page B

more daring ones stole glances at him and whispered behind their hands to their neighbors. The others kept their backs rigidly to him in an obvious rebuff of his presence. Darius looked around the room in a slow motion. For a formal court, it was not a large space, although with the open glass doors on either end, it appeared expansive. Some brave soul had climbed up and lit the wall sconces all along the edge of the ceiling, which illuminated the area and made the gilded decorations on the wall glow softly.
    For a small country, there were not many in the aristocratic class, perhaps three hundred or so. Darius, after a quick count, estimated that most of them were in this room, with perhaps two dozen or so absent. Putting over two hundred and fifty people in this space made it tight quarters, and yet he could stretch out both arms without hitting anyone. There were a great many guards as well. He had Bohme with him just to prevent someone putting a dagger into his back. But what were they afraid of? The people that didn’t have a bodyguard hovering in their shadow were visibly armed. In a formal setting he found that…odd. For such a crowd, they were strangely quiet as well. It sounded like a subdued beehive in here. The Brindisi court could be so loud at moments as to be deafening, so this relative quiet struck him as very strange.
    Turning to Bohme, he muttered, “Are they normally like this with newcomers or is it just me?”
    “Jusht you, shir,” Bohme assured him dryly.
    Wonderful. Now, how did he go about winning them over? He had to make friends; it would be political suicide otherwise. If he wanted to actually live a fulfilling life here after the war had ended, he needed to establish himself now. But he’d never faced this situation before and didn’t know enough about the culture to try blindly striking out on his own.
    Where was Sego when he needed him? Surely the packing could wait another hour!
    “General,” a very familiar female voice called from the side.
    Darius turned sharply and relaxed to finally see one friendly face in the crowd. “Raja Morva, I am delighted to see you.”
    Morva looked remarkably similar to her sister, Tailli. The elder of the two daughters, she had already been married when Darius took her hostage, and at the time had been three months pregnant. She had gained a few pounds since he last saw her—no doubt a side effect of having children—but her heart-shaped face had the same beauty to it and her smile was just as infectious. At her side stood another familiar face, Heydar, her husband. He had been the one to come and collect his wife and her family at the exchange. Darius had only passed a few words with him at the time, but the man had been sincerely thankful to see his wife unharmed and had not tried any tricks when Darius withdrew and returned to the front lines. He barely remembered what the man looked like from that brief encounter, but it didn’t seem he’d changed much. Still a little stocky, black hair untamable, expression in a semi-permanent smile. The smile widened as he exchanged a short bow with Darius.
    “Tailli told me all about your arrival here,” Morva informed him. “I am so glad that you came to us for sanctuary.”
    That was not quite how he arrived…ah well. “I am very thankful to your sister, as well, for giving me Bohme. I’d be quite lost without him.”
    For some reason, Morva laughed softly. “Apparently I should think about giving you a gift as well. You do give the most wonderful gifts in return. Wherever did you find that vase? It’s remarkable.”
    “Sego,” Darius admitted with spread hands. “The man knows where to shop. Or at least, he knows who to ask before shopping. We found that in the space of an hour.”
    “I must ask him, then.” Morva stepped in a little closer and lowered her voice to a confidential tone. “Forgive me, General, but you seem at a loss in this crowd.”
    “I don’t know the players,” he admitted