“Oh,” Hatan said, shaking head. “That kind of walk.” He couldn’t remember a time in his life where he’d gone on a leisurely stroll, and he’d certainly never courted anybody, but he understood that was the type of thing a lord or lady would do in those scenarios.
Sinteya laughed. “I must remind myself that you are more experienced as a warrior than you are as a lord.”
“The painful truth. I do have another meeting to attend soon, but I’d gladly walk with you for a moment. My apologies.” He steered them down a separate hall that led towards the back of the palace. Emil followed a few paces behind them. With things the way they’d been, he doubted Falshon or any of his men would want him to be alone anywhere, even on palace grounds. Perhaps especially on palace grounds, as this seemed to be the bloodiest place in the whole city.
“No apology necessary. Duty often calls us to different roles at unexpected times.”
Hatan eyed her carefully. “You speak as one having such experience.”
“Very astute. Perhaps a story for another time.”
“Or now,” Hatan said, pausing to unlock the door that led out to the rear garden, finding that it was already unlocked. “You seem to know enough about me, but I admit I still feel as though I hardly know who Sinteya Jenali is, save that she is beautiful, bold, and clever, with excellent taste in dresses.”
“Your list of attributes, though complimentary, is rather short,” Sinteya said with a wide smile, clearly pleased. “I’d be happy to add to it.”
A sense of satisfaction settled on his shoulders like a warm hand. “Alright then, tell me of these changing roles of yours.”
Sinteya sighed. “Well, if you must know, there is a reason such a catch as myself has reached the age of 27 without getting married.”
“You did not want marriage. You were distracted by some other pursuit, no doubt.” They entered the garden. This was the same place where Hatan had smuggled communications with Kyel, and a pain struck his heart as his eyes rested on the hidden door at the back wall. He averted his gaze, noting the presence of an actual groundskeeper, dutifully trimming away at some of the overgrown bushes that hadn’t seen proper attention in months.
“On the contrary,” Sinteya said. “I was actually engaged to a man for over two whole years while he was off on some trading journey all the way to Wanay and back. Only, he never did return. I waited and waited until it was determined he would never make it back.”
“I’m sorry,” Hatan said, pausing beside a pile of weeds that had been extracted by the gardener. “It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”
Sinteya’s mouth opened as she took in a sharp breath. “It’s alright. I did not truly love him. I was infatuated, perhaps, but a loss of loved ones is something I’m sure you have much more experience with than I do.” She regarded the vines growing over the wall where a few pink blossoms were starting to bloom. “But I found my own way. I went to Cataban to manage my father’s shop until he died just a few months ago. I then returned home to manage the estate. One cycle, a small group of soldiers came marching through the street, and one of them caught my eye, regal and handsome, riding atop a beautiful rangola. You might say it resparked my idea of romance.”
Hatan smirked. “Well, I’m happy to be your inspiration.” Perhaps she was inspiring him as well. Perhaps he could love her. Perhaps he could get married. Though the idea couldn’t have been further from his mind.
But something still tugged at him. It felt like a hook, clinging to his navel, pulling at his stomach.
It was fear.
“I must get to my appointment,” Hatan said abruptly.
“Of course,” she said as he led her back into the palace where Emil stood just inside the door, arms clasped in front of him. “I’m sure you have much to catch up on still.”
“I do, but hopefully it can all be resolved soon.” He dipped his head at her. “Farewell for now.”
“Farewell,” she said, dipping her head. She walked away down the hall, red and white dress swaying to either side. What was it Hatan was afraid of?
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Emil said, jostling him from his thoughts.
“Yes, of course,” Hatan said, realizing he’d been staring at her up until the moment she turned the corner. “We should hurry. I’m sure Penym is already waiting.”
Emil nodded, keeping his face expressionless as he followed behind Hatan to the clerk’s office. When he got there, Penym was waiting outside the room.
She bowed her head to him and smiled. “Regent Padarro,” she said in a formal tone.
“Penym, welcome back.”
“I’d like to thank you,” she said, “for restoring me to my position. I realize you’ve had every right to release me and offer the position to someone with less… stain.”
Hatan shook his head. “Penym, I told you not to worry about any of that. All is forgiven. We all make mistakes, and you have shown your true character by casting that aside. You risked everything to save me from the dungeon. So do not speak of apologies again.”
“Understood,” she said, taking a deep breath before offering him a nervous smile.
“Besides, how am I ever going to balance the Rikaydian’s accounts without you?”
“I’m sure you’d find a way.”
Hatan gestured to the room. “And despite all the other dramatics, I’m curious to see how things have played out with those shops so far.” As he opened the door to the office, he stopped, door half open, placing a hand over the shortsword at his waist.
A single, robed figure stood in the room, face half covered by a veil. A pair of piercing brown eyes peered out at him from beneath a deep hood, smooth, brown hands clasped in front.
“Come in,” the mysterious woman said. “If I meant you harm, you would have died before you ever awoke this morning.”
“I will not meet with a stranger,” Hatan said. “Reveal yourself and we may discuss the purpose of this intrusion.” Emil stood just behind Hatan, weapon out and ready in case things turned violent.
The woman sighed and pulled back her hood, dropping her veil, revealing the face of a youthful woman with the most beautiful features he’d ever seen. Smooth, brown skin, angular face, sharp, dark eyebrows, and eyes that glimmered all the brighter now that they were not hidden in shadow. “I am Alishara. A shaman. And I come bearing news from none other than Migo Rikaydian if you wish to hear it.”
“You come bearing news from Migo?” Hatan asked, eyes narrowing, trying to observe her features more closely. The robe she wore was tight, but there was possibly some stormwading armor beneath it, and he could see the vague impression of objects around her beltline. She was likely armed.
“Indeed.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Now do you wish to hear it?”
“Stand at the back of the room,” Hatan said.
The woman obliged, taking a few steps back so that she was nearly up against the wall. “Satisfied?”
