19.8

A few hours later, Cai stopped by to see if the king wanted dinner sent to his chambers.

Dirk was surprised his seneschal had come in person rather than send a kitchen servant, given his workload with the currency transfer. "I suppose this kingdom's financial affairs aren't keeping you sufficiently busy," Dirk growled nastily.

"On the contrary, my lord," Cai smiled thinly, taking the verbal jab in stride. He had expected the king to be in a foul mood. That is why he had come personally. The seneschal, like everyone else in the castle, thought that Zyrdicia was still missing. He had come by to make sure Dirk was alright. Asking about food was just a pretext.

Cai offered conversationally, "The whole castle is quiet now. Philip went back last night. Portia went back to Lyr to join Anthony and Charles looking for Zyrdicia. Dinner alone with Geoffrey was rather strange, my lord. He spoke for an entire hour about Princess Ariel. Her shoe size, her dress size, her hairdresser's name--"

"--They're all out of the castle?" Dirk interrupted, his stomach sinking. "They don't know she returned here several hours ago?"

"No, Sire," Cai frowned, confused. His eyes fell on Zyrdicia's cloak and gloves. "Only a few minutes ago Portia sent a messenger with word that they still hadn't found a sign of the queen in Lyr."

Cai studied the king's demeanor carefully. The man had been brooding over a snifter of brandy when the seneschal walked in. It was obvious the royal couple's latest spat was far from resolved. "Is everything all right, sire?"

Dirk frowned, not hearing the question.

"Is that blood on your armor, my lord?" Cai pointed at the king's chest. He knew Dirk was meticulous about cleaning away blood from his weapons and armor. Short of a battlefield, it was unheard of to see it on him like this.

Dirk looked down to where Cai pointed. There was, indeed, a small swath of it dulling the flawless silver and black field. It was precisely where Zyrdicia had put her hands on him a few hours ago.

He sent Cai out. When he was alone, he picked up her gloves from his table, where she had dropped them. Against the black leather, the drying stain was not easy to see, but he could feel it. Running his thumb inside the material, the leather had hardened where the blood had spilled against it.

He had not even noticed she was bleeding. He resisted the urge to groan. There was no telling what had really happened in Lyr - or why she had said nothing of it. For all he knew, she had probably been accosted by demons again.

He had never in his life experienced remorse for any of his many, many acts cruelty. On the contrary, he always savored them. Since her arrival, though, an entirely foreign sensation too much like guilt or regret had become far too familiar. He had come to loathe that senasation, in fact.

The memory of her last night in Kirilia stirred in his mind. Once again, he had erred in his judgment. Two hours had passed. He hoped she had not left yet.