The Spirit War(60)

“This is Osera, not Zarin,” Josef sneered. “We don’t marry our cousins. Lenette’s not even Oseran. She married into money, turned that into a court invitation, and then wormed her way into the queen’s favor. She’s been glued to mother’s side for as long as I can remember. People used to complain about a foreigner having so much power, but she’s been here so long now, I don’t think people even remember she’s not from the island.”

“Time changes many things,” Eli said. “Are you going to see your wife, then?”

“And prove Lenette right?” Josef said with a snort. “Not a chance. We’re going to use our time before court to look for Nico. I’d rather see her than Adela any day.”

Eli smiled. “I’m sure Nico would be delighted to hear that.”

“Why?”

“No reason,” Eli said, rubbing his forehead with a long, deep sigh. “Lead on.”

Josef shrugged and started walking faster. They ditched the guards on the next turn and went out on the rooftops to start their search.

After two hours of looking and nothing to show for it, Josef suddenly announced it was time to go to court. Tempting as it was, Eli resisted the urge to point out that they still had plenty of time before the ceremony began. For one, it might very well be time in Josef’s mind. He was famously insistent about showing up early. Two, Eli had lived with the swordsman long enough to know that you didn’t try reasoning with him when his face was set in that particular expression of cold rage.

As it turned out, it was good that they went down when they did. Despite being nearly an hour before court was scheduled to start, the throne room of Osera was already packed.

“I see you come by your predilection for early arrivals naturally,” Eli said, poking his head through a side door to survey the scene. “I think we’re the last ones here.”

Josef didn’t answer. He was standing by the door with his hands on his knives, looking suspiciously pale.

Eli poked him in the shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Josef said, taking a deep breath. “It’s just been a while since I had to deal with this idiocy.”

Eli gaped at him. “Josef, you’re the wielder of the Heart of War. You’ve fought Berek Sted and the Lord of Storms. How can you be nervous about facing some nobles?”

“I’m not nervous,” Josef snapped. “I just need a moment.”

“It’s a room full of rich, soft, old men!” Eli cried. “It’s not an army.”

“I’d prefer an army,” Josef said. “You don’t know what those people are like. If they would fight me openly, everything would be fine. But they don’t. They just talk.”

Eli smiled and held up a finger. “Just relax and remember the first rule of thievery: Shown weakness is your only weakness. Go in there with your head held high and leave the talking to me. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Josef released the death grip on his sword long enough to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Just promise me you won’t turn this into one of your overcomplicated Eli things,” he muttered. “Please.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eli said, taking Josef by the arm and steering him toward the door. “Chin up. Try to look princely.”

Josef nodded and set his features in the steely expression of a man bravely facing his own death. Eli grimaced, but didn’t comment. Bad as it was, it was better than the cold rage from earlier. He gave Josef a firm push, and the two of them walked into the hall.

The Oseran throne room had what Eli thought of as a paranoid setup, usually found in kingdoms with a violent history. It was all one large room with a row of narrow support columns forming a corridor up the middle, but rather than placing the throne on a free-standing platform as in Mellinor or other, more peaceable kingdoms, Osera’s throne was flush with the back wall, leaving no space for attack from the rear.

The throne room had no wings, but there was a gallery running around the upper level that was already full. Above the gallery, a line of thin windows carved the bright island sunlight into slices that struck the crowd at regular intervals, painting the hall in stripes of light. Down on the floor, the people were better dressed than in the gallery, but Eli saw none of the sort of ostentation normally found in the court of such a wealthy country. There was little jewelry to be seen, even on the older women. Dresses were muted colors, dark reds, greens, or navy. The men wore black almost exclusively, and everyone, even the women, was armed.