“That isn’t the point.” He paused, then spoke, the words seemingly wrenched from him. “A commander shouldn’t abandon her soldiers!”
“I thought you were dead or dying! And I don’t need you to school me in how to be a commander!”
“Apparently, you do! My health was totally irrelevant. Your first duty was to your warriors. Leaving them to fend for themselves could be construed as cowardice.”
That brought the Lioness to her feet, sending waves of water over the sides of the tub. “How dare you! No one calls me a coward, not even you!”
He leaned back, panting slightly, exertion and emotion taking their toll.
“You’re no coward, Kerian. I know that. But your behavior of late has been reckless and dangerous. I’m told you dragged the rotting corpse of a sand beast to Sahim-Khan’s door.”
With a grim nod, she admitted it.
“Why?” he asked.
She flung out her hands. “To make a point, of course! I
“You have sorely offended Sahim-Khan’s dignity.”
“I don’t care about his dignity!”
She wrung water from her hair and stepped out of the tub. When she looked at her husband again, his face was utterly still, the lines on it seemingly etched twice as deep as before, his gaze fixed on the floor. Concerned, she held out a hand to him, meaning to help him back to bed.
“Do you care about my dignity? You have disobeyed my strictest orders.”
The hand dropped to her side. “What orders?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Not to fight with the Khurish nomads.”
“What in Chaos’s name are you talking about?
“Then you should have evaded them.” He thumped the carpet with his cane.
“They knew where we were going! I couldn’t very well evade them and carry out your pointless expedition at the same time!”
He pushed himself upright. His eyes held no anger, only a deep sadness.
“Kerianseray, I love you more than my life,” he whispered. Her towering rage drained away. “But I must do what’s best for the elven nation,” he added. “Your actions continue to provoke our enemies and aggravate our allies. You have consistently made impulsive, reckless choices at a time when the slightest nuances of our deeds can mean life or death.”
His posture straightened, and in that instant, her husband was gone. It was the Speaker who addressed her now. “You are removed as commander of my armies.”
Had he pulled out a blade and thrust it home, he could not have astonished her more. She stared at him in shock as he went on.
“In time, I trust, you will appreciate why I must make this decision, will understand what an increasingly difficult political situation we’re in. Taranath will take command of the cavalry. Hamaramis retains command of my personal guard. You may serve in any company you wish, or you may retire from service.”
With that he turned ponderously and, leaning heavily on his makeshift cane, limped out.
Several yards away, in the corridor leading to the tent’s main room, Planchet waited. When the Speaker appeared, Planchet covered the distance between them in three long strides.
Many unhappy tasks were required of a monarch. The one he’d just performed had been the very worst. Gilthas turned a gray, sweating face to Planchet and whispered, “It is done. Take me home.”
Water dried on Kerian’s skin. How much time passed, she didn’t know, but when she finally came to herself, she was sitting on the rug, her back against the bathtub. Her smallclothes were stiff and dry.
Dismissed. She was dismissed. By her husband!
How many years had she borne arms against the enemies of her people? How long had she shed blood and fought foes more numerous, more powerful, more ruthless than she? She had won and she had lost, many times over, but always she fought on. Never had she quit. And now she was dismissed, cast aside, disparaged.
Gilthas was wrong. She had made mistakes, she admitted that, but her course wasn’t reckless, it was
