Page 38 of The Winner's Curse
“Maybe there is a side of him you have never seen. But he has nothing to do with the captain.”
“Except that both events are strange. Oskar had no reason to commit suicide. Even the emperor had praised his performance as captain. His guards admired him. He seemed happy.”
“So? You don’t know everything. People are unhappy for many reasons.” Arin’s voice was impatient, and she thought that they were no longer talking about the captain. “What do you know of unhappiness?” he said. “What makes you think you can see into the hearts of men?”
He spurred his horse ahead, and the puzzle about the senator and the captain flew out of Kestrel’s mind as she concentrated on keeping up.
17
Kestrel’s father didn’t dismiss the captain’s death as easily as Ronan and Arin had. During the next lesson in the library, he listened to Kestrel broach the topic, his brow furrowing into deep lines.
“Did Oskar have enemies?” she asked.
“Everyone has enemies.”
“Perhaps someone made life difficult for him.”
“Or someone made him fall on his sword.” When the general saw her surprise he said, “It’s not hard to make murder look like an honor suicide.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said quietly.
“And what do you think now?”
“If it was murder, he could have been killed by someone likely to inherit his position as captain.”
Her father rested a hand on her shoulder. “The death may be only what it appears: a suicide. But I’ll discuss our concerns with the governor. This matter bears further thought.”
* * *
Kestrel, however, had little thought to spare. Enai wasn’t getting better.
“Your cough is starting to worry me,” she told her nurse as they sat near the fire in her cottage.
“I rather like it. It keeps me company. And it brings you to visit more frequently … when you are not playing Bite and Sting.”
Kestrel didn’t like the coy look on Enai’s face, or the fact that it was almost impossible to keep anything that happened in the villa private. Those games were private.
In a sharp tone, Kestrel said, “Let me send for a doctor.”
“He will only tell me that I am old.”
“Enai.”
“I don’t want to see one. Don’t try to order me around.”
That silenced Kestrel. She decided not to press the issue. After all, the feverish glaze in Enai’s eyes had vanished long ago. Kestrel, seeking to change the subject, asked about something that Arin had said. It had been like a needle in a dark part of her mind, stitching invisible patterns. “Did the Herrani enjoy trading with Valorians before the war?”
“Oh, yes. Your people always had gold for Herrani goods. Valoria was our biggest buyer of exports.”
“But did we have a reputation for something else? Besides being rich and savage, with no manners.”
Enai took a sip of tea, peering at Kestrel over the cup’s rim. Kestrel grew uncomfortable, and hoped Enai wouldn’t ask what inspired these questions. But the woman only said, “You were known for your beauty. Of course, that was before the war.”
“Yes,” said Kestrel softly. “Of course.”
* * *
From the window of her dressing room, Kestrel could see the garden. One morning, her hair still loose, she noticed Arin and Lirah talking by the rows of autumn vegetables. Arin wore work clothes and his back was to the window, giving Kestrel no opportunity to read his expression. Lirah’s, however, was as clear as the dawn.
