sake of everything that makes a bard?"
"He wouldn't…" But looking into the gold-flecked eyes, Benedikt knew that Bannon was right. That was exactly what Kovar would do. Announcing a threat to the good of the many was his greatest power. "I don't know what I'd do."
Bannon cupped Benedikt's chin in his hand, fingers and thumb indenting the flesh along the jaw just on the edge of pain. "I do."
"You're not a bard." To disagree with Kovar was one thing. To place himself in opposition to what it meant to be a bard, that was something else entirely. "You don't know what it's like."
"And I don't care what it's like. If your captain shoves at you from one side, remember that I'm here, on the other."
His breathing a little ragged, Benedikt pulled away. "You can't threaten me."
Bannon's gaze followed him, expression unreadable. "Then call it support, you fool."
Bannon handed the bard back to the page outside the door to the queen's solar and continued on his way without a backward glance. Shoring up another's insecurities was a new experience for him but, with any luck, he'd managed to exert a force equal to that of the Bardic Captain, enough to keep Benedikt from collapsing under the weight of being a bard .
Bards. Everything in Shkoder came back to the bards. Right now, everything in Shkoder came back to Benedikt.
Absently rubbing the lingering warmth of Benedikt's skin on his fingertips, he sighed. All he could do was see to it that Her Majesty's choice got onto the boat. The rest of the slaughtering country would just have to work things out on its own.
"You've seen the Starfarer ?"
"Yes, Majesty."
"What did you think?"
Remembering Mila, Benedikt smiled. I thought she'd be bigger was not the answer the queen was looking for, so he told her another truth. "I think she's beautiful, Majesty."
"Isn't she." Eyes gleaming, Jelena smiled down at her secretary. "Taska, have I got time to take the new Fienian ambassador down to see her tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry, Majesty, but no."
"Majesty, please…" Her tailor muttered his plea through a mouthful of pins. "If you keep moving, your hem…"
"My apologies." She stilled, and the tailor's assistant draped another piece of fabric over her shoulder. "What about after Council?"
"You're meeting with the Due of Vidor, Majesty."
"Oh, well." Sighing philosophically, she turned her attention back to Benedikt. "You'll just have to sing him a song describing it."
"Yes, Majesty." But that wasn't the song he wanted to sing.
"This voyage has given her back the self she lost in grief."
The difference between this Jelena and the Jelena he'd Sung across the strait was like the difference between a running river and a stagnant pool. If he was all that stood between her and the loss of her joy, then Kovar could do his worst. He was insulted that everyone seemed to think he wouldn't be up to the responsibility.
"What is it, Benedikt? You're frowning."
"Am I? I beg your pardon, Majesty."
Risking another reprimand from her tailor, Jelena moved farther into the room. She liked the way he looked at her. He'd done it at Fort Kazpar and he was doing it again now. He made her feel worthy of the risk the Starfarer's crew was about to take in her name. There were those on the Council who suggested it might be better if the Starfarer carried a bard able to Sing more than one quarter but, for the sake of that look, Jelena would not, could not, imagine any other bard in Benedikt's place. "His Highness and I will be going with you as far as the Broken Islands."
His Highness meant Bannon, and Bannon meant… Actually, Benedikt didn't know what Bannon meant; figuratively and literally most of the time. He resisted the urge to rub his jaw. "You honor us all, Majesty."
She laughed. "Carrying crowned ballast is hardly an honor." Her outstretched hand was a symbolic gesture, given tailors and
"He wouldn't…" But looking into the gold-flecked eyes, Benedikt knew that Bannon was right. That was exactly what Kovar would do. Announcing a threat to the good of the many was his greatest power. "I don't know what I'd do."
Bannon cupped Benedikt's chin in his hand, fingers and thumb indenting the flesh along the jaw just on the edge of pain. "I do."
"You're not a bard." To disagree with Kovar was one thing. To place himself in opposition to what it meant to be a bard, that was something else entirely. "You don't know what it's like."
"And I don't care what it's like. If your captain shoves at you from one side, remember that I'm here, on the other."
His breathing a little ragged, Benedikt pulled away. "You can't threaten me."
Bannon's gaze followed him, expression unreadable. "Then call it support, you fool."
Bannon handed the bard back to the page outside the door to the queen's solar and continued on his way without a backward glance. Shoring up another's insecurities was a new experience for him but, with any luck, he'd managed to exert a force equal to that of the Bardic Captain, enough to keep Benedikt from collapsing under the weight of being a bard .
Bards. Everything in Shkoder came back to the bards. Right now, everything in Shkoder came back to Benedikt.
Absently rubbing the lingering warmth of Benedikt's skin on his fingertips, he sighed. All he could do was see to it that Her Majesty's choice got onto the boat. The rest of the slaughtering country would just have to work things out on its own.
"You've seen the Starfarer ?"
"Yes, Majesty."
"What did you think?"
Remembering Mila, Benedikt smiled. I thought she'd be bigger was not the answer the queen was looking for, so he told her another truth. "I think she's beautiful, Majesty."
"Isn't she." Eyes gleaming, Jelena smiled down at her secretary. "Taska, have I got time to take the new Fienian ambassador down to see her tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry, Majesty, but no."
"Majesty, please…" Her tailor muttered his plea through a mouthful of pins. "If you keep moving, your hem…"
"My apologies." She stilled, and the tailor's assistant draped another piece of fabric over her shoulder. "What about after Council?"
"You're meeting with the Due of Vidor, Majesty."
"Oh, well." Sighing philosophically, she turned her attention back to Benedikt. "You'll just have to sing him a song describing it."
"Yes, Majesty." But that wasn't the song he wanted to sing.
"This voyage has given her back the self she lost in grief."
The difference between this Jelena and the Jelena he'd Sung across the strait was like the difference between a running river and a stagnant pool. If he was all that stood between her and the loss of her joy, then Kovar could do his worst. He was insulted that everyone seemed to think he wouldn't be up to the responsibility.
"What is it, Benedikt? You're frowning."
"Am I? I beg your pardon, Majesty."
Risking another reprimand from her tailor, Jelena moved farther into the room. She liked the way he looked at her. He'd done it at Fort Kazpar and he was doing it again now. He made her feel worthy of the risk the Starfarer's crew was about to take in her name. There were those on the Council who suggested it might be better if the Starfarer carried a bard able to Sing more than one quarter but, for the sake of that look, Jelena would not, could not, imagine any other bard in Benedikt's place. "His Highness and I will be going with you as far as the Broken Islands."
His Highness meant Bannon, and Bannon meant… Actually, Benedikt didn't know what Bannon meant; figuratively and literally most of the time. He resisted the urge to rub his jaw. "You honor us all, Majesty."
She laughed. "Carrying crowned ballast is hardly an honor." Her outstretched hand was a symbolic gesture, given tailors and
Similar Books
