Shirin strode forward and shouted loud enough for the Emperor, who was still standing in the street behind ten of his honor guard, to hear. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to have this portcullis down this long when Emperor Aloric is standing out on the Avenue of the Goddess and Scepter. Is this your doing, Killian?” She grabbed Killian’s tunic in her fist and pushed her away from the Seneschal. With her back to the man, she growled loud enough for him to hear and then bent and spoke quietly in Killian’s ear. “Extra apple cobbler for you tonight, my dear.”

  Killian put on her best, punished puppy look at stared at the ground. “Forgive me, Commander. It won’t happen again.”

  “It had better not.” Shirin released her with an angry shove and strode past the Emperor’s guards. She bowed low and then came to attention. “Your Imperial Majesty. I apologize that you had to wait out here on the Avenue. If you’d come with me, I’ll take you to the Arch Priestess.” She stepped aside and waved her hand toward the gate.

  “If they were my guards, I’d have them whipped and reassigned to the deepest dungeons as water girls for the dregs rotting in my prison cells.” Distracted and angry, Aloric blindly followed Shirin’s suggestion, as she’d hoped he would, and stepped out of his protective phalanx of guards. Full of righteous indignation, he strode purposefully into the outer bailey.

  There he was met by a very calm Sábria, who stood with her hands clasped in front of her stomach and her hastily assembled Blades standing in formation behind her. As Aloric approached, she held out her hands in greeting. “Aloric, what a pleasant surprise. Our matron is preparing tea for us in the Citadel. Won’t you and Lord Dunham join Commander Shirin and me for a mid-morning repast?” The Emperor had planned his arrival to catch Sábria still in bed, and proclaiming it was time for a mid-morning snack was her subtle way of saying he was a layabout if he thought this was an early morning surprise.

  “Good morning, Sábria. Your people left me standing on the Avenue. That’s hardly the way to greet your fellow monarch.”

  “I’ll deal with my guards later, Aloric. Don’t trouble yourself about them anymore.” Seeing that Shirin had left the Emperor’s guards in the street, Sábria called out to the woman in charge of her own contingent of Blades. “Subcommander Calit. Please ensure that Emperor Aloric’s guards are made comfortable until he returns to the palace.”

  Calit came to attention. “Yes, My Lady.”

  Sábria led the way to the Sanctum with Aloric and then Shirin and Lord Dunham following in her wake.

  Ailith, who’d run to the practice grounds on an errand for Prime Geller, came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t realized the Emperor was visiting today, and she hoped she was far enough off to the side that he wouldn’t notice her. No such luck.

  Aloric’s eyes came to rest on her, and they narrowed as though he were aiming the point of a crossbow bolt between her lowered brows. He strode to where she waited at attention and halted in front of her.

  She bowed and then pulled herself to rigid attention again.

  “Well, if it isn’t the dirty little Dreyuthan peasant. I’m surprised to see you wandering the Temple without a guard. It’s my understanding you’re as mad as a rabid hare, little peasant. Is what they’re saying true?”

  Ailith opened her mouth to reply, but Sábria stepped up next to Aloric and answered in her stead. “Actually, Aloric, Ailith is on her way to becoming an outstanding Blade. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know we’ll soon have another full Blade to supplement the work the city guards do to protect the women and children on our streets.”

  Aloric bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “From spy to mentally defective loon before she’s been in the Temple four full moons. I believe that’s some sort of record even for one of your pity acquisitions, Sábria.”

  With her temper rising, Ailith snarled, “I’ve heard th’ same about—.”

  Sábria snapped at her before she could finish her sentence. “Ailith!” Both Sábria and Shirin saw the flash of anger in her eyes, though. Sábria’s temper was rising as well, and she immediately responded before Ailith lost her battle with her tongue. “I would think baiting my people would be beneath an Emperor of the Cibían Empire, Aloric. And you can imagine my pride when my people don’t take the bait.”

  Ailith flicked a glance at Shirin, who was standing behind the Emperor. Anger fairly washed off the Commander, who, now that she had Ailith’s attention, held her bound with such directed meaning in her gaze that Ailith couldn’t look away. Rather than feeling put upon, Ailith latched onto Shirin’s strength and pulled herself more erect than before.

  Aloric noticed the change and snarled, “Look at me, little peasant.”

  At Shirin’s imperceptible nod, Ailith shifted her gaze from her to the petty tyrant.

  The Emperor cocked his head and tried for a reasonable tone, no doubt hoping to entice Ailith to finish her sentence. “Much the same about what?”

  Ailith opened her mouth to answer but never got the chance because Sábria stepped in between her and Aloric.

  “You will not come into my Temple, into Elyon’s Temple, and berate the Goddess’ people.” She lowered her voice so only those in her immediate vicinity could hear what she had to say next. “You should know me well enough by now to realize that If I have to throw you out onto the Avenue to protect one of Her Blades from your continued bullying, I will. Now, despite the fact that you showed up on my doorstep unannounced, I have graciously invited you to tea. Do you wish to leave, or do you wish to join Commander Shirin and me for a light repast?”

  Aloric glanced over her shoulder at Ailith and opened his mouth to speak.

  Before a sound emerged, Sábria stepped into his face, cocked her head in warning, and growled, “Think very carefully before you speak, Aloric.”

  With a shrug, Aloric declared in a nonchalant tone, “The mad little bug is beneath my notice, anyway, Sábria. There’s something we need to discuss, so let’s go inside where we have more privacy.” He walked to the Citadel garden gate, where, to his surprise, the two Blades guarding the gate barred his way. He bellowed, “How dare you! Get out of my way!” When the guards both placed their hands on the hilts of their swords, he spun around, thinking Sábria was directly behind him.

  That wasn’t the case. Sábria had remained standing where he’d left her. The glare she gave him left no doubt as to her intentions.

  With his normal bluster, Aloric pointed at the Blades. “Tell them to move aside!”

  Lord Dunham was used to soothing his Emperor’s ruffled feathers. He stepped to Aloric’s side and spoke very quietly. “Your Imperial Majesty. Within the Temple walls, the Priestess leads unless she honors you by indicating you’re to precede her. As you know, the opposite is true in the palace.”

  Like the idiot he was, Aloric strode back to where Sábria waited, lightly clapped her on the shoulder, and affably chuckled. “Forgive me, Sábria. Seeing the Dreyuthan again made me forget myself. Shall we have that tea you suggested?”

  Instead of leading the way, Sábria pointedly shrugged his hand off her shoulder and said, “Ailith.”

  Surprised to be addressed by the Arch Priestess, Ailith automatically replied, “Yes, Milady?”

  “You will serve us tea. Find Emlyn and instruct her to serve us as well.”

  Non-plussed, Ailith blinked several times, not sure she’d heard Sábria correctly.

  Shirin stepped past Sábria and the Emperor and placed her arm around the small of Ailith’s back. She pinched a fold of skin between the fingernails on her thumb and forefinger and kept increasing the pressure until Ailith came out of her shock.

  “Um…yes, Milady. Now, Milady?”

  Shirin answered instead of Sábria. “Now, Ailith.”

  When she turned pleading eyes on the Commander, she saw that there was no hope for a reprieve. Growling quietly at the idiocy of nobles, Ailith stepped around Sábria and Aloric, slipped between the two guards, and hurried into the Citadel to find Emlyn.

  When they’d first come out of the Sanctum, Sábria had sent Emlyn to let Mistress Fuller know they’d need tea and pastries for Emperor Aloric’s visit. Having delivered the message, Emlyn had returned to the Citadel to prepare the dining room just off Sábria’s office. When Ailith came charging up the stairs, Emlyn stepped into the outer office to see what the problem was.

  Ailith’s face was white when she found Emlyn waiting for her. “Th’ fowkin’ Arch Priestess has gone fowkin’ mad!”

  Pursing her lips, Emlyn hauled Ailith the rest of the way into the office and shut the door behind them. “Ailith. For the sake of the Goddess, you can’t say things like that. What is wrong with you?”

  “Sábria said me ‘n you are to serve th’ tea to th’ fowkin’ Emperor!”

  “What? No, you misunderstood.”

  “I did not.”

  Emlyn covered her eyes. She didn’t normally swear, but this occasion definitely called for something more colorful than her usual forms of expression. “Fuck.”

  “Aye. Exactly.”

  Emlyn grabbed Ailith by the collar. “Okay. You say, ‘yes sir and no sir, or yes, Your Imperial Majesty, or no, Your Imperial Majesty.’ If you have to say anything else, wait a beat if you can, and I’ll try to answer instead of you. Understand?”

  “Aye, but th’ bastard called me all kinds of filthy things, and I’m to just—”

  Knowing they had very little time to prepare, Emlyn regressed back to being the Kibrunian Commander in charge of Tomisa’s bodyguards. She shoved Ailith against the nearest wall and twisted her tunic until her fellow shiv choked and had to stop speaking. “Just keep your mouth shut. We can talk about what an asinine bunghole he is when we get through this. Understand?”

  Ailith was turning purple, and she hastily nodded her assent. She pulled in a deep breath when Emlyn released her tunic. Emlyn was patting out the new wrinkles she’d just set into the fabric when the door opened, and Shirin stepped in.

  Seeing the two shivs standing in the outer office, she pointed to the door to Sábria’s private dining room. “Go.”

  Hearing Sábria explaining something to Aloric out in the hallway, the two shivs hurried to follow the Commander’s orders. They stepped to the back wall, where they turned to face the room. Emlyn gave some quick instructions. “Always return to this position. Be invisible and silent.”

  Offended and still upset at Aloric’s insults, Ailith glowered at Emlyn. “I did do this fer th’ Lady Isobel, ya know. I’m no a complete moron, even though th’ fowkin’ Emperor thinks I am.”

  Emlyn sighed with relief. “Good.”

  That seemed to assuage some of Ailith’s irritation because she nodded and set herself to wait.

  It wasn’t long before the four nobles entered the room, followed by Mistress Fullman pushing a serving cart. As she busied herself, setting the ceramic teapot and plates of food on the table, Aloric stopped and stared at Emlyn.

  He lowered his chin, making his throat into a triple-layered mass of fat instead of the usual double. “Still here, Kibrunian? I hope you received your invitation to Princess Tomisa’s wedding. I received mine a fortnight ago.”

  Emlyn bowed. “I don’t expect to receive one, Your Imperial Majesty. Tomisa and I broke ties the day I joined the Temple.”

  He nodded derisively. “Well, a Kibrunian wedding isn’t something I’ll waste my time on, I can tell you that. Days of sailing and then more days of watching their pitiful attempts to match the splendor of a Cibían wedding, eh, Sábria?”

  Sábria’s drawled response almost made Emlyn smile.

  “I seem to remember a drunken brawl turned orgy at your last son’s wedding, Aloric. I’m sure King Melnor won’t be too concerned about topping that.”

  He snorted, and Emlyn couldn’t help thinking he sounded like the pig he resembled. “Boys will be boys, Sábria. But you have to admit, the décor and food were the best of the best.”

  Sábria accepted a cup from Ailith, who’d stepped away from Aloric and Emlyn to serve as she’d been instructed. While she was listening to Aloric baiting his second shiv of the day, Sábria thought distractedly that Ailith had done an admirable job of pouring the tea. Rolling her eyes at Aloric’s back, she answered him with a sigh. “A bit gaudy for my taste, but then, it wasn’t my wedding, was it?”

  As protocol dictated, Ailith offered the next cup to the Emperor, who waved her away.

  Sábria seated herself at the head of the table, and Ailith set Aloric’s cup at the place setting to her right. She set Shirin’s to Sábria’s left, leaving the Seneschal to receive his cup on the Emperor’s right.

  Emlyn couldn’t help Ailith serve as Aloric continued to stand in front of her and stare.

  Already tired of the man’s posturing, Sábria called him over. “Aloric, Emlyn is here to serve our tea. Please, join us. I’m interested to know what brought you to the Temple.”

  Ambling over to his chair, Aloric purposely bumped Ailith, who was waiting next to the serving cart. He’d hit her hard enough that if she’d not been balanced and ready for an assault, she would have tumbled into the cart, possibly upsetting the entire morning’s offering. Unfortunately for him, Ailith had dealt with her fair share of noble idiots during the time she’d been with Lady Knight Isobel.

  The first time it happened, she’d reacted by shoving the nobleman back and challenging him. To assuage the noble’s sense of superiority and to keep him from having her arrested and charged with assaulting a member of the nobility, Isobel had beaten her so hard that Ailith ended up in the infirmary. Not daring that harsh a punishment again, Ailith had tried sarcastic remarks. Those had also earned her beatings, but not as bad as the first.

  Finally, Isobel had told her to expect them to shove, bump, or otherwise bait her and to set herself accordingly. After that, the Lady Knight never walked past without shoving her this way or that until Ailith knew exactly how to plant her feet and flex her muscles so that not even a direct, hard shove could move her.

  From then on, Ailith enjoyed planting herself like an oak tree, sturdy and immovable. She became so good at it that on several occasions, the poxy nobles had actually bounced off. One even lost his balance and fell to the floor. Everyone had seen what he’d done, though, and since Ailith hadn’t moved a muscle, there was nothing anyone could say. That one had earned her a visit from Lady Isobel that night, carrying a large cherry cobbler as a reward.

  Aloric and Ailith were of a height, but he outweighed her three to one. As he shoved past, knocking into her shoulder with his, it was more like he’d hit a block wall than the soft, helpless young serving wenches he was used to bullying at the palace. He grunted and almost overbalanced backward, but Lord Dunham steadied him with a hand to his elbow.

  Sábria glared at the twinkle in Ailith’s eyes, reminding the young shiv to present a blank face to Aloric when he regained his balance. The Arch Priestess raised a dubious brow at the imperial bully and drawled, “That was clumsy of you, Aloric. Ailith, step back and allow the Emperor clear passage to his seat.”

  The subtle jibe about his bulky body wasn’t lost on anyone, and when Ailith took a giant step back, even though on the inside Sábria was laughing at her shiv’s biting sense of humor, she sent her a warning glare that meant if Ailith wasn’t careful, she’d earn herself a beating once the meeting came to an end.

  Ailith got the message loud and clear, and she lowered her gaze and stared at the colorful mosaic patterns on the tiled floor until Aloric claimed his seat. The serving cart was behind Aloric, and Emlyn surprised Ailith by grabbing her tunic and pulling her back as she reached for the plate containing the pastries to serve Sábria and her guests.

  Emlyn hissed quietly in her ear, “Stay,” and then picked up the platter herself. As Sábria’s guest, Aloric was offered the first choice of the assortment. He pointed to two large chocolate croissants, a cinnamon swirl, and a thick slice of spicy gingerbread. Once Emlyn had placed all four items on his plate without comment, he greedily grabbed an oblong cream-filled pastry off the platter and stuffed half into his mouth.

  Forgetting herself, Ailith rolled her eyes and slightly shook her head. When she focused on the table again, she noticed the Commander staring at her with her teacup frozen halfway to her mouth. The Commander quietly set her cup down, excused herself, and walked to Sábria’s office door, indicating to Ailith that she should follow.

  When the heavy door shut behind them, Shirin grabbed the whip off the wall and brought it down hard three times on Ailith’s back. Holding the tip in Ailith’s face, she growled, “You will not embarrass the Arch Priestess in front of Emperor Aloric.”

  Her face red with shame, Ailith lowered her head and nodded. “Aye, Commander. Sorry. He’s just such a—” She grunted when Shirin whipped her thigh.

  The Commander raised her brows. “You were saying?”

  “Weren’t sayin’ nothin’, Commander.”

  Shirin continued to glare. “If you weren’t so damned hard-headed, I wouldn’t have to use this.” She held up the whip again. “Unfortunately, it seems this is the only way to quickly get it through your sodding hard head that dealing with Aloric is a life-or-death situation for you. Sábria took a chance and had you and Emlyn serve in there because she intends to show Aloric that she believes in you and isn’t ashamed to have you among her Blades. So, get that mouth and those insulting, insubordinate reactions under control, or I swear….”

  She let the sentence hang, and judging by the look in the Commander’s eyes, Ailith didn’t have to use her imagination to know what would happen otherwise.

  Having said her piece, Shirin turned Ailith so her back was to her and wiped out any sign of the whipping. Pointing to one of the lesser wines in the small bar in the corner, she pulled in a breath to compose herself. “Bring one of those in with you as though that’s what we came in here for and set it to the side for later.” With that, she returned to the dining hall, leaving Ailith to pick out a bottle of white wine and follow along behind.