The Diplomat Read Free Page A

her lap. Bookshelves were stacked high on the walls about her, and a writing desk took up an entire corner. A literate woman. In usual circumstances Rema would be pleased, but it was much harder to outwit the well-read.
    Talitha turned her deep-set eyes toward Rema and squinted. She seemed to be in her late fifties, but worn by the demands of rule and motherhood. Her handsome face was sunken amid flabby folds, and an enormous purple gown concealed her body.
    “Your Grace, my name is Remela.” Rema made a low bow. “I have been sent to you by Emperor Ormun of the Pale Plains, Heir to the Wide Realms, Lord Master of the City States of Urandal, King of the Lastar and shall we skip the rest and get to the point?”
    Talitha gave a brittle laugh. “Indeed.” She bent forward, her chair creaking as her weight shifted. “You sound very young for a diplomat.”
    Rema stepped further into the light. “I’m thirty years old, Your Grace.”
    “I’ll be damned!” Talitha leaned nearer still, and her chair groaned again—might the Gods keep it intact. “You’re a woman.”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    Talitha scratched her thinning scalp. “It’s inconceivable. The great barbarian Ormun, capturer and plunderer of women, employs a female diplomat in his service. What’s next, a butcher marrying a pig?”
    “I was appointed by his father. Ormun spared me after the coup.”
    “Not many survived that incident.” Talitha puckered her lips as her gaze followed the lines of Rema’s uniform. “You must be very good at your job.”
    “I’m sure you’ll test me to my limits, Your Grace.”
    “Sit opposite me, girl. Don’t call me ‘Your Grace.’ My name is Talitha, and I’ve no patience for groveling.”
    Rema settled into a neighboring chair so well-padded it seemed possible it might swallow her. “If we’re to be informal, please call me Rema. I don’t much like my full name.”
    “Strange. I thought it pretty.” Talitha ran a crooked finger across her chin. “So, a female diplomat. You wear your uniform well.”
    “I know.”
    “And you’ve a bit of sass in you too. You’re a striking creature, Rema. Articulate, handsome and with a touch of your own fire.” Talitha’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “A diplomat who speaks without servility is a very rare thing. I’d venture that you’re one of the Empire’s best.”
    “Possibly. I’m certainly the most attractive.”
    “Three weeks to get here. Three weeks to get back. Are we really so important as to deserve a diplomat of your caliber?” Talitha reclined, and her body moved mysteriously beneath her gown. “It’s as if the Emperor thinks we might refuse.”
    “The Emperor rarely thinks. For my part, I’m very sure that you’re planning to refuse. That’s why I’m here.”
    “Oh? We are a beleaguered little kingdom, and the most powerful man in the world is offering to save us. So tell me, why are you so very sure that I’m not receptive to your generous offer of help?”
    “Ormun demands your unwed daughter.” Rema looked into Talitha’s faded blue eyes and found the admiration she’d hoped for. “Had you betrothed her to a Lyornan merchant-king, you could have ended this war already. Clearly she doesn’t want to marry, and you’re perfectly content to keep her.”
    “Well, well. I was certain some belligerent emissary would swagger through the door and, with idiot confidence, demand to put my Elise on a cargo ship.”
    “I know she isn’t chattel. Ormun has made you a cruel demand, crueler than most men could realize. To have clawed off marriage for so long, she must be a fiercely independent woman.”
    “I had five daughters.” Talitha’s tone grew distant. “Three sons, two still living, so there’s someone guaranteed to inherit our mess. Four of the girls were packed off. In return, a little land, some respite from war and grandchildren I’ve never seen. Never will.”
    “I understand.”
    “Now, Elise.” A fond