Free Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) by Stephanie A. Cain Page B

would be appropriate? What could he say at all?
    Speak in Tamnese , he reminded himself. Don't panic. He had spoken nothing but Strid for so long now that his own native tongue felt odd on his lips. He stepped forward to the spot Ayowir had vacated, and was nearly bowled over by the wall of sound that crashed against him. The people cheered and whistled with such fervor he couldn't believe it was for him alone. Did they think this was a true peace?
    He looked down into the first few ranks of faces. A woman about his age was clutching a young boy to her, tears streaming down her cheeks. His gut gave another horrible lurch. Did she think that Hawk was only the first of many? Did she have a husband she thought would be coming home? But no power on earth could return the dead to life.
    "My cherished countrymen," Hawk began, and his voice cracked. Fortunately it was masked by the ongoing cheers. He swallowed. What could he possibly say that would not be a deception? He lifted his hands, wishing they would shut up. He was not deserving of this accolade. He had done nothing but eat Strid food and read Strid books for six years.
    "My cherished countrymen," he began again, when the applause had dropped away to a muted whisper of sound. "I cannot fully express all of my deep emotions at being among you again." Applause. Good. That seemed sincere enough, and grateful enough. He took a deep breath. "I am proud to have served Tamnen in the past, and I shall be proud to serve Tamnen in the future. You all honor me with your presence here." He looked over his shoulder and sketched a bow, keeping his voice raised. "Crown Prince Razem honors me with his presence here." His eyes found Lord Burojan's and he was momentarily breathless at the depths of the hatred in the man's eyes. "My Lord Burojan honors me, as does--" He glanced around again. "Baron Arkad. I am a humble man, my cherished people. I am not deserving of these honors. But I am deeply grateful for them. My heart soars at once again breathing the air of my beloved Tamnen."
    His throat closed. That would have to be enough. A few words, Prince Razem had said. They would have to do. He stepped back from the railing of the balcony as the crowd cheered once again. Hawk's bad leg twinged and he stumbled. Just a little, but the vigilant Prince Razem noticed it. The prince caught him, both hands coming up to grasp Hawk's forearms, almost as if he were greeting him anew rather than supporting his weight. "Just a moment longer," Razem murmured, his voice loud enough for only Hawk to hear. He waited until Hawk had regained his balance and nodded his head slightly. Then he stepped back to the railing.
    "And now, dear people, I urge you to go forth and celebrate our honored hero's return home!" the prince cried, his voice ringing out over the noise. "Celebrate freedom!"
    He stepped back again and met Hawk's eyes. "You will join us, of course, Commander Hawk," he said. Again, it was not a request. Hawk didn't bother to nod acquiescence as Razem went to Ayowir and began speaking with her.
    "I would not have had you back," Burojan said. He had come close without Hawk's noticing it. Hawk chastised himself; he could be complacent no longer. "My brother died at Dinnsan, and it was not your fault or the prince's, but I would not have had this trade." The man's gold-flecked eyes reminded Hawk that he was--as Venra had been--the king's first cousin. It had been easy to forget, with Venra; he'd been a superb commander and easy-going, never one to stand on rank. Hawk feared this Lord Burojan was not like Venra.
    "I am grieved to learn of Lord Venra's death," Hawk said. He choked on the words, and perhaps the man read the sincerity in him, for the chilling hatred in his eyes lessened somewhat.
    "So was I. But grief does not bring back the dead." He gave Hawk a hard smile. "Nor does a prisoner exchange make peace."
    Hawk bowed his head. Could he and this man ever be friends? Venra had admired his