Shadow Over Kiriath by Karen Hancock Page A

would be insane to make an enemy of his neighbor to the west.
    Abramm grew aware of Maddie beside him, pushing the lettuce about on her plate but eating none of it. Did she know what Leyton was up to? Was that the reason for this uncharacteristic skittishness? She had come to Kiriath determined to protect her country’s interests, after all, and it had to be obvious stealing Kiriath’s regalia would not be in those best interests. But if she considered Leyton’s plans a bad idea, he thought she’d more likely be formulating plans to stop him, not sitting here quivering and pale.
    He exchanged a few more benign words with her but, with Leyton listening closely at her shoulder, got no further than he had before. Deciding he’d spent enough time with his difficult guests, he rewarded himself by turning his attention to his newest duke, expressing the pleasure he’d taken earlier in watching the elder Meridon’s reaction to seeing his son made a nobleman. Swordmaster Meridon and his wife were in attendance at this banquet right now, as were Trap’s four sisters and their husbands, all recovered from the shock that had turned them into wax statues during the elevation ceremony. “I suppose now they’ll be wanting to visit you in your manor out at Northille,” Abramm remarked. “At least you’ll have plenty of room to escape them if need be.”
    “And with this new job you’ve given me,” Trap added wryly, “plenty of things to give me excuse. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”
    Abramm grinned at him. “There’ll be others, too,” he teased. “You’ll be amazed at the relatives you suddenly discover you have.”
    Trap glanced at him sourly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
    Abramm’s grin widened.
    It was not until the main course of roast bullock and golden potatoes was served that Leyton was finally drawn into a conversation with Simon seated at his far right and Abramm had a chance to speak to Maddie unmonitored. Leaning toward her, he murmured, “Are you feeling poorly tonight, my lady?”
    She flinched but did not look at him. “I’m fine, sir.”
    “Because you’re not eating. And you seem . . . tense.”
    She stared at her plate as she moved the meat about with increasing agitation. A furious flush stained her cheeks. “You know how much I detest these courtly doings.”
    Aye, he knew. But he also knew he had never seen her this cowed. Was Leyton’s influence over her this powerful? Unlikely as it seemed, he really had little idea what their relationship was like. Beyond the fact it didn’t appear to be amicable.
    And already— a pox on it! —Leyton had noted their conversation and was turning from Simon to interject, “Detests them? Now, there’s an understatement!” His eyes met Abramm’s over her bowed head. “She should’ve been born a milkmaid, not a king’s daughter.” He chuckled at his witticism, seeming unaware—or not caring—that he was the only one to do so.
    Abramm expected Maddie to parry with a sharp retort, even heard her take a breath to do so. But in the end she only sat mute and red-faced, rapidly tumbling a piece of meat about on her plate.
    Well, whatever is going on with you, my lady, he thought at her, by now thoroughly perplexed, I see I’ll not find out now . This evening, perhaps during the fireworks or the ball, he would seek her out apart from her nosy brother and get the truth.
    Maddie cut a tiny piece off one of the already-cut morsels of beef on her plate and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing. Then she glanced at him, offered a quick smile. “See? I’m fine.” But she couldn’t hold his gaze for long and soon returned to studying her plate.
    They proceeded through the meal’s various courses, and eventually an innocent question from Abramm spurred Leyton into a recitation of his hunting experiences. Maddie had warned earlier against bringing this subject up, but Abramm had forgotten. And paid the price. What he