City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) Read Free Page B

covering the parts that the king had reserved for himself yet revealing a sliver of hip here, a smooth shoulder there, all of their lower legs and a great deal of décolletage. All were very pretty, of course. Hand-selected by the king . Morghiad tried not to linger too long on them. He didn’t want to get a reputation.
    At the southern end of the courtyard a small gathering of noblemen and women were chatting and exchanging glasses of tanno wine. Two of the women were looking at him, or perhaps Silar. They always gazed at Silar. Morghiad found himself wondering if he’d get more attention as a blond, blue-eyed man; not that he wanted it of course. He couldn’t be doing with women falling about him everywhere he went.
    He continued his visual tour of the court. A messenger was examining the condition of his grey-white horse. It looked to have thrown a shoe and was playing lame. Further round, at the east end, a group of children were chasing stones between the cobbles. Watching them were two waiters in blue uniforms, each with a red-leaf cigar in their mouth. Grey wisps grew from the smouldering cigar ends, meandering back toward the linen washers upon invisible hands of air. A girl rose from among those linen washers, and she possessed a mane of dark reddish hair that plunged down one shoulder.
    As she moved from the shadow of the wall and into the sunlight, her hair seemed to come ablaze to a fiery gold. The breeze whipped the hair flames across to her other shoulder, while her bored expression conflicted with the drama that occurred about her head. In her arms she cradled a large pile of roughly folded sheets, while her feet kicked at the blue skirt of her servant’s dress. She approached the opposite side of the pond before setting down her washing. Her face was quite striking: young, perhaps not yet twenty, but with even features and dark eyes. She reminded him of a picture he had seen somewhere. He trawled his memory. He could not place it. Morghiad traced his eyes down her neck to the line of her bodice. It curved in a very pleasing way before it cinched in at a narrow waist.
    “That. I would like to see with fewer clothes on,” Silar whispered. His lower jaw seemed to have lost all connection with the rest of his head.
    Morghiad gave his friend a fierce look. “Get a hold of yourself. I thought you were deeply in love with the brunette.”
    “I prefer red-heads. Haven’t I always said that?” Silar said with hushed tones. He drew himself up and folded his arms. “Excuse me, my lady?”
    The girl continued with her task of soaking the linen in the pond’s water, seemingly unaware of his communication.
    Silar’s mouth tightened at the corners. “Girl!”
    She looked up, eyes wide. The girl maintained her composure, although her back remained stiff. “Sir- my... lord?”
    Somewhat satisfied with her stumbling response, the lieutenant said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. What is your name, girl?”
    Morghiad was unable to suppress a small, exasperated sigh.
    She held his friend’s gaze, however. “Artemi. I have only been working here a few months: mostly in the washrooms. So yes, it is unlikely you have seen me before.”
    Silar grinned. “Named after the warrior, eh? I think we have a wit here, Morghiad. How would you like to dance with a real swordsman of Cadra’s army this evening?”
    She started at the mention of the kahr’s name. Her eyes released the lieutenant and focused on the dark-haired man instead. She didn’t look away as she spat, “I’d rather put my head in the jaws of a Tegran tiger.” She gathered up the soaking sheets in haste. “Thank you, my lord!” With that she turned and strode back toward her coterie, leaving a trail of pond water behind her.
    Silar unfolded his arms and turned to his friend. “I don’t think she - ...can you tear your eyes off her for a moment?”
    The kahr watched her hair return to the shade before meeting his friend’s accusatory