Gedeon felt like an escaped convict, his heart was beating so fast. He and Kalman were crouched in the corner of their dormitory, trying to figure out how they could escape Segardana and make their way back to Itao without supplies, a ship or horses or any clothes, weapons or armor of their own. Though Gedeon did not wish to admit it, even to his closest friend, he felt guilty even planning to steal from these people—enemy or not. The senile king had accepted Gedeon’s meager lie as to his and his men’s origins and had not even questioned one tiny facet of it—especially why none of his men had the olive skin or dark hair and eyes common to the natives of Esztergom. And Sosi… well, Sosi would be devastated to see that he had left without saying goodbye as well as having stolen from her people. The winter months, he knew, were particularly hard in Ryrcoki, especially in the Segardana region. The royal court, he could guess, would move further inland to their winter tashon, away from the harsh winds of the Krikor Sea. Of course, the threat from the Itaoan army stationed over the border in Ormam might be too big of a threat for King Zeroun to move his court. Domokos would only know if they would have enough foodstuffs stored up to feed the entire tashon and their guests and still make it through the winter comfortably; knowing how the winter palace in the much harsher Itao was run, a small winter staff would live in the winter tashon all year round, farming and hunting and trading with those who passed through to build up a substantial stock for the long winter.

“What do you mean? You don’t want to leave?” Kalman clapped an enormous palm over Gedeon’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I do want to leave, Kal,” Gedeon brushed him off. “We’re sitting in enemy territory. I’ve been feeling nauseous for the past two days because of it.”

“Are you sure it’s not the food? It’s a bit… vegetable-y for me,” Kalman cracked a grin.

“But think of it this way: they have no idea who we are and they’re not going to, not for a long while,” Gedeon smoothed his hair back and breathed in deeply, brushing the thought of Sosi from his reasons; she was no more than a Ryrcokian whore. “They’ve got a supply of food, warm furs, clothing. Zeroun said it wouldn’t be another six months for them to build us a ship to travel back to ‘Esztergom’.”

“They’re building us a ship?”

Gedeon nodded slowly, letting a greedy smile stretch over his lips.

“How do we tell yo-“

“Don’t.”

“The emperor,” Kalman looked up warily. “That we’ve landed and are surveying the area. We can’t just send one of our men. These women are on us day and night. Surely they’ll notice one of their charges missing.”

“We could-“

“Gedeon, no. You don’t think a Ryrcokian messenger would tell someone the refugees have sent him to Itao to give a message to the Emperor himself?”

“We have to tell him somehow,”

Kalman rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms in front of his burly chest. “You’re the boss.”

Gedeon latched his hand into his hair, exhaling roughly. “I know. Just let me think.”

&

When Siran arrived the next morning, Gedeon was awake and waiting.

“Did you sleep well, Gedeon?” she pulled up her usual stool next to his bed, folding her hands in her lap.

“Very. Like a baby,” he said quickly. “I’m feeling restless. Might we take a walk?”

“Have you eaten?”

Gedeon nodded, folding back the blankets; he had made sure to steal a pair of trousers after his meeting with Kalman. Siran drew in a sharp breath and turned her eyes to the small stand next to his bed, fiddling with the handle of the water jug.

“Sosi?”

“Yes?” she looked up quickly, into his eyes.

She didn’t want to look down. She hadn’t seen a man that way since that day; she didn’t want to.

“Shall we?”

“Let me get you a cloak and tunic, Gedeon. You’ll freeze that way,” she felt a blush creep into her cheeks as her eyes scanned his muscled chest.

“They’re at the foot of my pallet,” he gestured listlessly, swinging his legs over the side and stretching his back.

Siran turned abruptly, her hands colliding with his chest. She looked up, taking in his height. He seemed to touch the ceiling from where she stood; she couldn’t even see his fiery eyes from there. He tilted his head down, the edges of his eyes crinkling into a small smile.

He took the tunic from her hands, “Thank you.”

She nodded and turned away as he pulled it over his chest. “I thought I might show you the inner courtyard today.”

“Inner courtyard?”

“We’re in the outer walls now. They house the spare dormitories, guard rooms and barracks, some stables and the pigeon coop.”

“Pigeons?” he stepped up next to her as he tugged on the edges of the tunic.

“Yes. My- His Majesty keeps messenger pigeons. With the waters around here so rough, sometimes it’s faster to send a bird carrying the message instead of a person,” she smiled. “Quite extraordinary, really. You tell them anywhere—anywhere in the world—and away they go.”

“Fascinating,” Gedeon said slowly, a small smile creeping into his features, before he followed her down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

The outer courtyard’s floor was packed with dirt—mud, now that the autumn rains had set in—and was surrounded by high, thick stone walls supported near the towers by wooden scaffolding and beams. The walls themselves were rectangular, about four men long between the outer walls and inner walls and brightly colored stalls lined the inner walls. The guards on either side of the simple gate to the inner courtyard nodded silently at Siran, their eyes following her and Gedeon as they strolled through the arch.

“What’s in the inner courtyard?”

“The royal stables, the kitchens,” Siran pointed around as she spoke. “The royal apartments, the Great Hall. It’s where the royal family lives.”

“It’s quite a beautiful structure,” he gestured to the octagonal keep that housed the Great Hall and her father’s meeting rooms.

The balustrade on top sported finely carved stones and rich mahogany pillars supported a tiled awning around the perimeter of the building. Siran had never regarded it as beautiful, because she had lived there most of her youth, but she supposed that to a foreign eye, the building held some charm.

“I’m sorry the day doesn’t enhance that,” she chuckled, peering up at the overcast sky.

“Is there ever a sunny day in Ryrcoki?”

“In the summer,” Siran commented absently. “Segardana does not usually get sun. But Ararat? Oh, how beautiful it is. Or was. Now, it’s beauty has been… stolen, I guess you could say.”

“You must miss it,”

“Where?”

“Home. Sator,”

“Home is where my family is,” Siran rubbed her arms under her cloak.

“I thought only your grandmother was here,”

“Yes. And she is the only family that I have,”

“Well, it seems to me that if you only have one family member left, you can make your home anywhere,” Gedeon argued. “And why not make that home at home?”

“Because the memories of home are too painful,” Siran snapped. “Even… even the princess will not go back. So neither will I.”

“It seems rather selfish that she will not go back to see her own people,” Gedeon remarked darkly.

“Perhaps it is difficult for her,”

“And it is not difficult for them? Having to rebuild their city? Their lives? And without the guidance and support of their leader?”

“It’s only been two years since… the attack,” Siran said softly. “The princess needs time.”

“This is why women should not rule,” Gedeon said hotly. “They let their emotions and personal tragedies get in the way of what’s best for their people.”

Siran rounded on him, eyes flashing. “And the way your king rules is any better? Terrorizing people? Taking away their rights and their food until their rulers submit? Or just executing all who stand in their way?”

“I never said it was right, I just said it was better,”

“So we should all be warlords, like Imre?”

“Emperor Imre is fulfilling his destiny,” Gedeon spat. “What would you know about how to be a good ruler?”

“What would you know?” her eyes glimmered challengingly.

They stood nose to nose, their breath fogging around each other’s lips, their eyes blazing into the other’s, willing the other to back down. Siran checked her rage first.

“This is foolish,” she muttered.

Gedeon laughed nervously. “Agreed. My apologies?”

“Accepted. I apologize as well. I know nothing about living in the Territories. For all I know, it could be a utopia. All I know is how we live here and how we think you live there. It was unfair of me to judge you.”

Gedeon ducked his head. “King Zeroun told me there would be a feast tonight. For all my men.”

“Are they all well enough?”

“They are strong men. It takes more than just a bump on the head and a bit of water to deter them,” Gedeon grinned. “Will you be serving, or will you give me the honor of accompanying me tonight?”

“Accompany? You?” Siran’s head was spinning. “I… I don’t think that would be wise. My… my grandmother would not approve.”

Gedeon raised an eyebrow.

“She…” Siran bit her lip. “She doesn’t particularly like… foreigners.”

Gedeon’s other eyebrow shot up. “I thought she’d be pleased that a merchant had taken an interest in her granddaughter. Surely that is a step up from being a servant your whole life.”

Siran looked down to where his rough thumb was tracing over the scar on her forearm that peeked out from under her tunic sleeve.

“Gedeon…”

His hand jerked back to his side. “Apologies.”

“It’s not that… It’s… I can’t explain. I will see you tonight. But not as your guest,” she smiled sadly. “Do you need me to walk you to your dormitory? I’m afraid I’ve been absent from my post too long. My mistress might be growing angry.”

Gedeon shook his head. “Thank you, I’m quite well acquainted. Best not keep your mistress waiting.”

Siran nodded and ducked away from him, bobbing a hasty curtsy before darting into the Great Hall.

“Until tonight, Sosi.”

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