Free Exile by Betsy Dornbusch Page A

left them a peaceful blue-gray. His lips parted in his constant smile. Before, the mark on Osias’ forehead had seemed to mar the perfection; now it served to add to it.
    “Gods, you’re beautiful,” Draken whispered. Then he froze. What was he saying?
    “It’s only your own heart you see,” Setia whispered. “As when we stare into a pool, the nature of the Mance is to show us ourselves.”
    Osias drew near. He cradled Draken’s face in his long fingers and laid a light kiss on his forehead.
    That was all. He backed away. “Are you well?”
    Draken didn’t have anything to say, but the stench and fear and discomfort was gone. He swallowed, wishing for a drink, and twitched a nod.
    “We must replenish ourselves after this ordeal,” Osias said, his tone matter-of-fact. As he pulled on his tunic he said, “The dead have their way of clinging to life—”
    The door swung open hard enough to hit the wall behind it. Reavan. His mouth was open to speak, but instead he eyed Draken, bare-chested and still in bed, Setia nude next to him. Draken yanked the covers over her.
    “Fair daybreak to you, Lord Marshal,” Osias said, already on his feet and sounding easy.
    Reavan was gaunt with fury. Several Escorts waited on his heels, swords drawn. “You dare to work magic without leave of your Queen?”
    Draken slid out from under Setia to stand up. “We were under attack.”
    “Silence, pirate,” Reavan said.
    Draken took a step forward. “I’ll speak when I like.”
    Reavan drew his sword. “Would you care to hear the voice of my blade?”
    Osias gracefully stepped between Reavan and Draken. “Extend Queen Elena my apologies for the magic. However, Draken speaks truth. We were under attack.”
    Reavan cast a glare around the room. “I see no one. Did they flee?”
    “They left a trap, which I undid,” Osias said. His voice sounded even, agreeable, but a muscle twitched in his back.
    Reavan was silent for a moment and then he gestured to the Escort to retreat. “Stay in your chamber until bidden to court.” A cruel smile twisted Reavan’s lips as he looked from Draken to Setia. “It might be the day, but you’ll no doubt find a way to pass the time.” The door slammed shut behind him.
    “Right bastard, he is,” Draken said.
    Osias hushed him. “We are in the Akrasian Royal Bastion, and we must show the Lord Marshal respect.”
    “You’re right, Osias,” Draken said. “But so am I.”
    “I do wonder how they knew of the magic so quickly,” Osias said thoughtfully. “They must have wards set.”
    Setia climbed from bed. She reached out and touched the bruises fading on Draken’s chest. “What happened?”
    He looked away. “Prison happened.”
     
    ***
     
    An unsmiling housemaid brought breakfast. She didn’t speak, even when Draken caught her eye to thank her.
    “Akrasians don’t approve of sleeping three to a bed,” Osias said, smiling to show he was teasing. “Rumors of our impropriety surely spread through the Bastion.”
    “Or they fear us,” Draken said, rather hoping it was the latter.
    “Someone hates us. They left that trap,” Setia said quietly.
    “Most curious, as well. Did you notice how it reflected us?” Osias said.
    Draken nodded.
    “It’s almost as if they could watch us through it, as if they wished to watch us die,” Osias said. He looked at Draken. “Have you experience with such killers?”
    “I have experience with killers, but nothing like this,” he said carefully. His experience with magical killers was limited to his wife, and he didn’t want to go there. He changed the subject. “Elena is new to the throne, isn’t she? Speaking of untimely deaths, I’d heard her father died the Sohalia past.”
    “Assassinated, actually,” Osias said. He shrugged at Draken’s raised eyebrows. “It’s not common knowledge. I only heard through my own court.”
    Draken raised his brows. “Who inherits if Elena dies? She has no heir, aye?”
    “She’s not marked