Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) by Stephanie A. Cain Page A

But I mistakenly allowed myself to believe that any disgrace would fall solely on the head of the one who ordered the atrocity." His thin lips curved in a humorless smile. "I failed to recognize that I, not Anderlin, was the one who ordered that atrocity. For that, Prince Razem, I am most heartily sorry."
    Razem stared at the man. He couldn't forgive him. There was no way under the sun that he could forgive the Deranged Duke for his murderous rampage. But he could at least appreciate the apology. It would have little effect here, spoken in private with only the two of them to witness it. The duke would certainly die before word got out, and no one would believe Razem if he and a Strid commander were the only living witnesses. Ayowir would likely deny it, anyway. But the fact remained that the Deranged Duke had recanted his position. He had apologized for the massacre.
    It meant very little in light of the hundreds of lives that could never be returned.
    But to Razem, it was a balm of sorts. He could not forgive the man, but he could at least rest easy knowing they were not sending the duke home so he could share all of his strategy with others.
    Razem nodded shortly. Then, with nothing further to say, he turned and walked out of the duke's rooms. He waved a hand at the head of the guards standing outside. They knew the duke was to be handed over to the Strid. They would handle the details from here.
     
    ***
     
    Of course Razem could have no peace to puzzle out the meaning of that last encounter with the duke. He still had Jacin Hawk to deal with. And from the way the man had handled today's ceremony, Razem knew he wouldn't enjoy most of what the prince had to tell him.
    His first impression of The Hawk was of a shadow. The man didn't seem to want to be in front of a crowd. He didn't seem to enjoy the celebratory atmosphere. He certainly was only a shadow of his former self. Razem hadn't known him even to speak to, but he had seen him in the palace from time to time before his capture. He would not have recognized this lean, underweight man who favored his left leg ever-so-slightly as the vaunted military commander who had been in the habit of striding everywhere he went, cloak streaming out behind him, head held high and gaze sharp.
    And having to catch the man after his speech had certainly been unexpected. Razem went through his mental list of questions and added a few to the list while subtracting a few others. Somehow he didn't think asking The Hawk about Strid culture was as important as making sure the Strid hadn't starved or beaten him--and making sure of that fact before they left the palace and escaped Razem's vengeance, if they had.
    He shoved open the door to the large sitting room where he had directed The Hawk and General Kho to wait. Kho was standing by a table against one wall, picking over a selection of fruits, meats, and cheeses. The Hawk was sitting on a low couch against the opposite wall. His head was back, his eyes closed. He had his fingers curled around a wine goblet so tightly his knuckles were white. Kho glanced over at Razem when the prince walked in. The Hawk jerked upright, wine slopping over the edge of the goblet. A moment later he was on his feet, his gaze hooded and watchful.
    This was a man who had been exposed to too much, Razem thought. He didn't know what he meant by it, but the thought prompted in him a mixture of sympathy and regret that made it difficult to speak.
    "Lord-General Kho, Commander Hawk," he said, nodding. "Be at ease. Hawk, have you eaten?"
    "The commander will not eat," Kho said, biting off each word. "It seems our good Tamnese food is too rich for him now."
    Razem saw Hawk's shoulders slump for a moment before the man straightened and said, "I apologize, your highness. My diet has consisted of a great deal of bland grains and cheese, with the occasional goat or chicken. I fear I shall have to reacquaint myself with our better range of spices."
    The man seemed to think