Free The Twilight Herald: Book Two Of The Twilight Reign by Tom Lloyd Page B

apology to the suzerain, who smiled back and nodded graciously as the rest of the room looked away with embarrassed expressions. Oh damn, Isak thought, I’m the guest of honour, I shouldn’t be apologising. Didn’t Tila say I couldn’t do anything wrong at a meal in my honour?
    ‘He’s going to be fine.’ The soft voice in his ear was accompanied by a waft of perfume. Around them, conversation sputtered back into life as the guests returned to their meals.
    Isak turned to Tila and nodded glumly. The doctors were agreed on that point at least, despite it being the only one they had been able to reach a consensus on. A middle-aged monk with a hard stare, accompanied by three novices, had arrived from a nearby monastery to help tend to the wounded. He’d been friendly to the suzerain and polite to Lord Isak, of course, but his face betrayed his feelings when he saw a local woman also tending to the sick; her hair cut short to display the scars and tattoos around her neck marked the woman clearly as a witch. No one said much, but even the veteran soldiers had deferred to her opinion.
    ‘I know he will be,’ Isak said, prodding the lump of pork on his plate with a knife, ‘but I can’t seem to get the smell of burned flesh out of my mind.’
    Looking round at the forty or so faces in the hall, Isak saw a number still watching him with slight concern; the Countess Saroc was one who had little time for alcohol and no patience with drunks. Isak ignored her sharp eyes, which shone from her long, thin face. His natural charisma had a more dramatic effect on inanimate objects than on the Countess Saroc, but her courtesy remained faultless and her compassion for the injured unmatched; that she didn’t like him was a small price to pay.
    ‘He’s too old to be leading men into battle,’ Isak continued, picking at his meal. It was too rich, and had set his stomach churning. Aside from the wine, he had consumed only rice and a bowl of dressed tomatoes. Popping another in his mouth, Isak licked the oil from his fingers and sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have asked it of him.’
    ‘You’re right that he’s too old,’ agreed Tila, placing her fingers on his forearm. ‘You’re wrong that it’s your fault. The old buzzard knows his own strength better than you do, and you can’t claim to be more aware of the dangers of battle than he. Let his decisions be his own.’
    Her hand looked like a child’s against Isak’s green-edged cuff. They had little time to sit together and talk as friends these days. Isak didn’t resent the love that had flourished between Tila and Count Vesna, for both had become dear to him, but in his first weeks in Tirah Palace, he and Tila had spent nearly every minute of the day together.
    Isak saw a fond smile appear on Tila’s rosebud mouth. ‘And, of course, a friend should be on hand to cut one’s arm off when one makes the wrong choice.’
    Isak resisted the urge to reach out and hug her, uncomfortably aware of the eyes on them. Instead, he stuck his tongue out at her, prompting a muted squeal of amusement, and went on the hunt for more wine.
    ‘My Lord.’ Suzerain Saroc spoke as Isak filled his own goblet from the decanter in front of him, placed there by Mihn so he wouldn’t have a servant hovering at his shoulder all night -the tale of the battle in Narkang had raced through the suzerain’s household, and every one of the staff was surreptitiously trying to catch a glimpse of Isak’s left hand that had been left as white as the tunic he wore. Isak turned towards the suzerain, his body feeling heavy and ponderous.
    ‘Might I persuade you to rest here a few weeks before returning to Tirah? We seldom have the chance to entertain our lord down here in Saroc; your presence would be a blessing for us all.’
    ‘A good idea,’ Isak said with a smile. ‘I think Lesarl can spare me for a few weeks yet.’ Off past the suzerain, he saw a frown cross Vesna’s face. The count was listening idly