Shadow War - Deborah Chester [23]
“Let me relay this to you, although Gault knows why I bother,” Orlo said. “Since yesterday, has the prince been a man happy and carefree? You won a tremendous victory on his behalf. He has every reason to celebrate, yet beneath the smiles and the charm there is anger. All the anger that was present before the contest. Did you not see it?”
“Yes,” Caelan said reluctantly. “Angry, but hiding it.”
“Do you know why he’s so angry? Why he’s ridden three horses into the ground and broken their wind in the last week? Why he’s taken to staying out all hours of the night? Why he’s so often in the company of that creature Sien?”
Caelan thought of the bizarre meeting he’d had with the prince and Lord Sien. Hiding a shiver, he said nothing.
“It is the coronation,” Orlo said, looking at Caelan as though he had just failed an examination. “His temper gets more foul with every passing day of the festivities. The empress threatens his position, and if you’re wise you’ll avoid getting caught up the middle of this family’s conflicts. No matter what he promises you.”
Caelan hated politics. He hated court intrigue. He hated all the gossip conducted by people who weren’t directly involved.
“The imperial family’s problems are none of your business,” he said coldly.
Orlo flushed, and he glared at Caelan with his eyes narrowed. “Let me tell you something. Years ago, when Tirhin was much younger, and much more impetuous, he tried to rally the imperial army around him. He intended to bring off a coup d’etat. And I was at his side.”
Caelan rolled his eyes and turned away. “I don’t want to hear this.”
Orlo gripped his arm and pulled him back. “You will listen,” he said angrily. “You must!”
Caelan shook him off, and found himself swaying weakly with the effort. “Why?” he shouted. “Why should I listen to this parable of yours? I have no need of lessons—”
“I committed treason for his highness,” Orlo said bleakly, his eyes pinpoints of cold.
“What?” Caelan said in disbelief. “When?”
“Years ago. I was young and hotheaded. I was impatient for change. I had just been passed over for promotion into the Imperial Guard for the second time.” His mouth twisted with old bitterness. “My family wasn’t good enough. Simple country farmers, with the stink of manure on their shoes. It didn’t matter how good a soldier I was or how ably I served. I wasn’t the right sort for the elite Crimson.”
Caelan looked at him, at his stocky shoulders and bullish neck and square face, and knew all about class and status. He thought of his own birth and how he had been raised in Trau. He had resented being the son of a famous and esteemed father. How spoiled he had been. How disdainfully he had taken so much for granted.
For the first time, Orlo was baring his soul. Caelan glanced at the door, wishing he could escape this. He had no desire to hear Orlo’s secrets, not now, not like this. But when he met Orlo’s eyes, he knew there was no leaving.
“What treason did you commit?” Caelan asked.
Orlo’s eyes were on fire. His face contorted with old memories and his hand groped instinctively for the dagger in his belt. “I killed General Solon, the Lord Commander of the army,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “At Tirhin’s order, and in cold blood. The man was defenseless, asleep in his own quarters. I crept in, and stabbed him in the heart.”
Orlo’s eyes flinched, and a tide of red colored his face. “I stood over him in the lamplight, this general who had denied me my dream because of tradition. I had never met him before, never spoken to him, never been addressed by him. Had he been awake, he would not have recognized me. He did not know of my existence, and I took his life.”
Orlo drew his dagger and held it aloft so that its blade reflected the ruddy