Weavers of War Read Online Free PDF

Mertesse. Wasn’t she then an enemy of the conspiracy? Did sharing a bed with a traitor and wishing desperately to lie with her again negate all that she had done before?
    These questions plagued her as she made her way across the castle’s upper ward. Evanthya didn’t even notice the two soldiers standing in her path until she had nearly walked into them.
    “Pardon me,” she said, flustered and feeling slightly dazed. “I didn’t see you.”
    “Actually, First Minister, we was waitin’ for you.”
    “For me?”
    “Yes. The duke wants a word right away.”
    The minister looked up at the window of Tebeo’s ducal chamber and saw that he was watching her, his round face lit by the morning sun.
    She nodded, swallowing. “Of course.”
    The two men fell in step on either side of her and in silence the three of them entered the nearest of the castle towers, climbed the stairway, and walked to Tebeo’s chamber. One of the guards knocked, and at the duke’s summons, he pushed open the door and motioned for Evanthya to enter. She nodded at the two men, trying with little success to smile, and stepped into the chamber. Neither man entered with her and an instant later she heard the door close.
    Tebeo was still at the window, his back to her. “Please sit, First Minister.”
    Evanthya took her usual seat near the duke’s writing table. Her heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder Tebeo didn’t notice.
    “Would you like some tea?”
    “No, thank you, my lord.”
    “Wine perhaps?”
    She smiled, despite her fright. “I’m fine, my lord.”
    He turned at that. “Are you?”
    Evanthya shivered. “What do you mean?”
    “I’ve been impressed with your strength this past half turn since the breaking of the siege. You’ve done all that I’ve asked of you; as always your service to House Dantrielle has been exemplary.”
    “Thank you, my lord.”
    “I can only imagine how difficult it’s been for you.”
    She felt the blood rush to her face and looked away. There would have been no sense in denying it. “Yes, my lord.”
    “To be honest, I’m a bit surprised that you’re still here.”
    Evanthya could only stare at him.
    “I have some idea of how much you love her, and I know as well that you hate the conspiracy, that you’ve risked a great deal to strike at its leaders.”
    Not long ago, Evanthya had told him of hiring the assassin to kill Shurik jal Marcine, and though he hadn’t approved, neither had he punished her, which would have been well within his prerogative as her sovereign.
    “Had it been me,” he went on, “I would have gone after her already. That you haven’t speaks well of your devotion to me and this house.”
    “You honor me, my lord,” she managed to say.
    “I’m merely being honest. And I’d ask the same of you.”
    “My lord?”
    He came and sat beside her, a kindly look on his face. “What were you doing in the prison tower just now?” he asked, his voice so gentle it made her chest ache.
    She tried to answer, to say anything at all, but instead she began to cry.
    “There are only two men in the tower right now,” he said. “Numar and the archminister. And I doubt that you have much to say to the regent. That leaves Pronjed.”
    When she didn’t answer, he took a long breath.
    “After all we’ve been through these past few turns, I’ll never again question your loyalty. I think you know that.”
    Evanthya nodded, tears coursing down her face.
    “Still, I need to know what you and he discussed. As much as I trust you, I fear the archminister. You’ve told me yourself how dangerous he is. If my castle is in peril—”
    “It’s not, my lord.”
    In the next moment she thought of the last words Pronjed had spoken to her and the danger his escape might pose to Tebeo’s guards, and she regretted offering even this meager assurance.
    “You’re certain of this?”
    She lowered her gaze again. “Not for certain, no.”
    “You must tell me, Evanthya. You know you