The mansion of Daniel Gallow was a stately work of classical architecture. His forefathers had seen much more in old-world charm and style than in the need to flaunt their wealth. But as the friends of the king, you didn’t have to show off much before everyone fell in to whatever trend you were setting. When Daniel had married his dark skinned princess seventeen years before, most of the women of the court dyed their hair black and adopted the looser, more flowing garments of the lady’s country. More recently, the Gallows had made it fashionable to have a minimalist garden, with long stretches of grass interrupted only intermittently by some well-placed placed bush or trimmed hedge. Some people called it art, the Falconer called it a road. He strode up the stone path towards the long mansion and his guard came behind, trampling the carefully tended grass as they fanned out to form a semicircle around him.
When he reached the front door, he picked up the heavy brass knocker, clutched in the talons of a stone eagle. He dropped it three times in all, then waited with the affectation of a man who had all the time in the world.
When the butler came to the door, he said, “Retrieve your master, his lady and his daughter with all haste.” The man nodded and slipped away. Again they waited.
When the door was opened again, it was only the lady who looked out on the Falconer and his assembled men.
Eva Gallow was still dressed in a light purple evening gown with a square neck and silver trim. These days she dressed as a Lanthian lady of the court, with long dagged sleeves, a fitted bodice and a skirt that brushed the floor. She had been girlish when she first came to court, and her beauty had grown with her age. Most men were half in love with her honey skin and shining black hair. But there was no love lost between her and the Falconer.
But princesses, even former ones, do things only with the height of courtesy. “Good evening, Lord Falconer,” she said, and curtsied dutifully.
He bowed in reply. “I am surprised to see you so ready to receive us, my lady. I am not interrupting any other planned engagements?”
“No,” she replied. “We returned from one not so long ago, and I simply have not yet gone to bed.”
His eyes darted behind her. “I requested your manservant to fetch your husband, and your daughter as well. Are all your servants so intolerably lazy?”
Her voice brought a chill to the summer air. “My husband is out, and my daughter not suitable for presentation in mixed company.”
“Lord Gallow is out at so late an hour?”
“He said it was urgent.”
“What was?” The Falconer’s lip twitched, as though he were suppressing a smile.
If anything her voice grew even colder. But her tone did not shift and with all the manners of an ice queen, she said, “I did not ask.”
“You did not think it strange that your husband wished to attend to business so late in the evening?” He raised his eyebrows as though to be suggestive.
“When my husband says something is urgent, I do not detain him with pointless inquiries.”
His tone became flat and hard. “What happened, exactly?” he demanded. He crossed his arms and planted his feet on either side of the path, and stared at her with his cold eyes. For a long moment she met that gaze, but her eyes dropped and she replied in a somewhat subdued voice.
“He received a letter, and upon reading it said he must go.”
“Did he take the letter with him?” the Falconer asked.
“I do not know,” she admitted.
“Then you won’t mind if we look.”
She unfolded her arms and placed one hand against the door frame to block his path. “I do mind, Lord Falconer. What right do you have to disrupt our peace at this hour, insult my servants and invite yourself to rummage through our personal belongings?”
“I’m glad you asked,” the Falconer replied in his silky voice. He put a hand into his pocket and drew out a square of paper. As he unfolded it and handed it to her, he said, “You are under arrest for suspected arson, destruction of the king’s property and treason. Please do not struggle.” His guards approached and took one arm each.
Eva did not try to shake them off. She stared at the warrant, her wide eyes growing wider as she processed the contents of the paper before her. “You put Kate on this warrant,” she said at last. Her voice was thick and confounded.
“You may send a maid to fetch her, but I’m afraid she’ll have to be accompanied by a guard,” the Falconer replied.
Eva turned to the butler. “Please send for my daughter. Tell her she is to bring her cloak,” she said flatly. The man scurried away and the guards marched their unprotesting charge back down the stone pathway, to the carriage that waited.
When he reached the front door, he picked up the heavy brass knocker, clutched in the talons of a stone eagle. He dropped it three times in all, then waited with the affectation of a man who had all the time in the world.
When the butler came to the door, he said, “Retrieve your master, his lady and his daughter with all haste.” The man nodded and slipped away. Again they waited.
When the door was opened again, it was only the lady who looked out on the Falconer and his assembled men.
Eva Gallow was still dressed in a light purple evening gown with a square neck and silver trim. These days she dressed as a Lanthian lady of the court, with long dagged sleeves, a fitted bodice and a skirt that brushed the floor. She had been girlish when she first came to court, and her beauty had grown with her age. Most men were half in love with her honey skin and shining black hair. But there was no love lost between her and the Falconer.
But princesses, even former ones, do things only with the height of courtesy. “Good evening, Lord Falconer,” she said, and curtsied dutifully.
He bowed in reply. “I am surprised to see you so ready to receive us, my lady. I am not interrupting any other planned engagements?”
“No,” she replied. “We returned from one not so long ago, and I simply have not yet gone to bed.”
His eyes darted behind her. “I requested your manservant to fetch your husband, and your daughter as well. Are all your servants so intolerably lazy?”
Her voice brought a chill to the summer air. “My husband is out, and my daughter not suitable for presentation in mixed company.”
“Lord Gallow is out at so late an hour?”
“He said it was urgent.”
“What was?” The Falconer’s lip twitched, as though he were suppressing a smile.
If anything her voice grew even colder. But her tone did not shift and with all the manners of an ice queen, she said, “I did not ask.”
“You did not think it strange that your husband wished to attend to business so late in the evening?” He raised his eyebrows as though to be suggestive.
“When my husband says something is urgent, I do not detain him with pointless inquiries.”
His tone became flat and hard. “What happened, exactly?” he demanded. He crossed his arms and planted his feet on either side of the path, and stared at her with his cold eyes. For a long moment she met that gaze, but her eyes dropped and she replied in a somewhat subdued voice.
“He received a letter, and upon reading it said he must go.”
“Did he take the letter with him?” the Falconer asked.
“I do not know,” she admitted.
“Then you won’t mind if we look.”
She unfolded her arms and placed one hand against the door frame to block his path. “I do mind, Lord Falconer. What right do you have to disrupt our peace at this hour, insult my servants and invite yourself to rummage through our personal belongings?”
“I’m glad you asked,” the Falconer replied in his silky voice. He put a hand into his pocket and drew out a square of paper. As he unfolded it and handed it to her, he said, “You are under arrest for suspected arson, destruction of the king’s property and treason. Please do not struggle.” His guards approached and took one arm each.
Eva did not try to shake them off. She stared at the warrant, her wide eyes growing wider as she processed the contents of the paper before her. “You put Kate on this warrant,” she said at last. Her voice was thick and confounded.
“You may send a maid to fetch her, but I’m afraid she’ll have to be accompanied by a guard,” the Falconer replied.
Eva turned to the butler. “Please send for my daughter. Tell her she is to bring her cloak,” she said flatly. The man scurried away and the guards marched their unprotesting charge back down the stone pathway, to the carriage that waited.
