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“How do you like the Vulpes?” Presley asked, leaning back on the narrow bench at the rail of the boat.
It was a small sailing ship with one mast, could be handled by a minimal crew, and had sleeping cabins for six. The draft was shallow, so it could make its way up deep rivers off the Axenian Sea, such as the Teper River, as they were doing now. Presley had borrowed the ship for business a few times before when he was working for Stylianos Shipping, and he had always found her comfortable. When he had asked Crispus Rufus to rent it for this trip to Teperum, he had refused payment from Presley. Instead, he had told Presley to consider it a “test run” to see if he and Grigory might like to buy it.
“I don’t need so many personal ships,” Crispus Rufus had told Presley. “I should sell the Vulpes. So why not to you?”
“I’ve always thought it was comfortable,” Grigory answered. He settled beside Presley and squeezed his hand. “But there is no one who knows less about boats than a Loshadnarodski.”
Presley chuckled. “Would you like to own a boat? This boat, even?”
“Are you serious? But, do we need a boat?”
“Well, we like to travel some. And now that I can’t combine our travel with work, we will always have to rent if we go anywhere.” He shrugged. “And Dominus Stylianos said he would sell her to me at a good price if I wanted it.”
Grigory leaned against his side. “I guess then the question is do you want to own a boat?”
Presley wasn’t sure. In spite of the wealth he had amassed in his career at Stylianos Shipping and in good investments, he still had trouble thinking of himself as rich. He could certainly afford to buy the Vulpes. He would use it if he owned it. And yet, having grown up in a modest Leornian townhouse with three bedrooms and one servant, he couldn’t quite see himself as the owner of a private ship, even a small one. “We can decide when I get back.”
“Do you really think you will only be gone a few weeks?”
“In theory, I’m just going to help marriage negotiations. Assuming I can get out before the snow closes the passes, I think so.”
“And don’t forget whatever it is you need to do for Faustinus’s bank.”
Presley sighed, wishing he could forget all about Faustinus’s bank. What is he really up to? His bank can’t be a serious economic venture if he’s putting Quintus Verrus in charge. Quintus is a nice enough fellow, and knows the basics, even if he is a little naive and idealistic. But he’s no bank manager. He’s obviously a dupe. But for what? I swear, if Faustinus has me doing something I’ll regret, I’ll... sic Caedmon on him, I guess.
“I promise, if I finish doing what I can for Rohesia and the weather looks about to turn, I will abandon Faustinus’s bank. Getting home to you is more important.” Presley turned to face Grigory. The helmsman and the two hands were on deck, but they were too busy navigating the Teper River to pay any attention to them. Presley kissed Grigory lightly on the lips. “I’ll always prioritize coming home to you.”
Grigory gave him a sweet, slightly embarrassed smile. “Thank you. But if Rohesia needs you longer, I know how important it is to you. I could take next semester off. Go the long way through Odeland if need be, and join you in Myrcia.”
Presley’s heart swelled with affection. He knew how much Grigory liked teaching and lecturing, researching and writing. Presley might have been ready to retire, but Grigory would probably choose to keep teaching until he had to be wheeled into the classroom. “I would never ask you to take a semester off.”
“You didn’t ask.” Grigory squeezed the hand he still held in his. “I owe much to Rohesia and the Sigors as well. Without them, we would not be together now. I would happily sacrifice a semester for them.”
Presley kissed him again, overcome with love for this remarkable man and clearly remembering, even if Grigory was not thinking about it at the moment, that Grigory had already sacrificed a school year a decade ago to help at the siege of Leornian. Not to mention that he had repaid his debt many times over to the Sigors. Their invasion earlier that year, in fact, would have failed without the cisterns Grigory had designed, which allowed the Sigor army to enter the country through a route the Gramirens had assumed impassable. Amusingly enough, it was these cisterns he had chosen as his lecture topic while he was here in Teperum.
“I will be home for the Solstice,” Presley said.
“Don’t get caught in an avalanche trying to make that date,” Grigory laughed.
“The snow and ice wouldn’t dare stop me.”
They reached Teperum late, and both were tired. Presley hoped they would have time to visit one of the city’s famous baths the next morning before Vittoria arrived, as it was too late to go now. They enjoyed Teperum a great deal, and always went to the baths when they visited. They had even once helped Vita in a small act of spying in those baths before Tullius became emperor. They held a lot of fond memories.
They had also visited the city often while the Sigors were living here in exile. The royal family had been forced to move a bit, but the majority of their exile had been spent in Teperum at the Villa Cedra, where Presley and Grigory were now staying. Presley’s memories of the villa were mixed with joyous holidays spent with friends and frustrated plans. The last time they had been there, Rohesia had given him and Grigory Elwyn’s old rooms, since she had left by then to be with her new husband. But that came with both good and bad feelings attached, as well.
Daughter of the late King Edgar and his first wife before Rohesia, Elwyn had always led something of a hectic and troubled life. But then she had fallen in love with Paulinius Severus, the Severi being one of the richest, oldest, and most powerful senatorial families. They had both broken with their families and taken up residence in a house outside Albus Magnus that Paulinius had inherited from his great-aunt. Elwyn still wrote Presley on occasion since her marriage the previous year. She claimed this was so he might assure her family that she was well. But her letters contained more than that. She was clearly happy. He could sense it in every line that she wrote.
This was in stark contrast to Rohesia’s letters, especially when discussing Edwin and Alice. Unlike their half-sister, what Presley heard about the Sigor siblings in Myrcia led him to believe they were not happy. Maybe Elwyn had the right of it at the end of the day. Perhaps it was best to stay in the Empire. With these thoughts, Presley finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, after they ate and made certain Presley’s bags were packed, they got ready for a quick trip to the bath around the corner. It had private rooms, and Presley was rather looking forward to the long goodbye he had been too tired to share with Grigory the night before. But just as they were headed to the front door, Vittoria burst through it, putting an end to other plans.
Presley tried to convince her that setting off an hour later could not possibly make any difference. The Emissaria, however, shook her head, green eyes laughing at them.
“There is no time to delay at all, I’m afraid. I’ve planned out this trip to the minute, practically. We’re going to have some long days, and nowhere good to stop if we don’t hit the next marker.”
“But I’ve made this journey before,” Presley insisted. “I genuinely don’t understand the rush.”
She grinned and even waggled her eyebrows a bit. “Oh, you will. I’ll explain on the way. Let’s go.”
And so, on the gravel drive in front of the Villa Cedra, Presley and Grigory kissed goodbye. Presley reiterated his promise to be back for the Solstice. Grigory held him so tightly, Presley’s ribs ached. But then Grigory helped Presley into the saddle of the horse Vittoria provided, and they were off.
The pace Vittoria set was blistering, quite literally. They made it fifteen miles farther than he had scheduled when he thought he would be taking his own carriage. Along the way, they even changed mounts twice, which was not a way Presley had ever traveled before, even in his youth. When they reached their roadside inn that night, he was saddle sore and miserable. Surely, she did not intend to continue at this rate.
The only thing he found that hurt more than his thighs was his stomach—he was positively famished. So, after a quick wash and change of his clothes, he made it downstairs to the common room for supper. Even with two baggage horses and Vittoria traveling light, he’d been forced to leave some of his baggage with Grigory at Teperum. He should probably give more thought to rationing clean clothes. He suspected Vittoria wasn’t interested in pausing to do laundry.
She had already claimed a corner table by the fire in the stuffy, busy dining room. He gratefully joined her, especially when he spotted the cold mug of ale she had ordered him. After a long drink in which he drained a good third of the mug, he looked Vittoria over.
During the Sigor exile, he had gotten to know her and many of the Emissariae. They were constantly gathering intelligence for Faustinus and Moira, as well as protecting the Sigors. Presley saw these young women whenever he visited the Villa Cedra and whenever they sent him delicate letters, particularly if they required a swift reply. He also knew Vittoria had been stationed in Rawdon just before the invasion to keep an eye on Aldrick, and if she could, steer him in the right direction while he was negotiating for Edwin. Going to Rawdon now, he admitted that he couldn’t ask for a more knowledgeable traveling companion. Now I just need her to not set a pace that will kill me before I ever get there.
“I’m old enough to be your father,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow. “But still quite handsome for all that. I was under the impression you were entirely devoted to Professor Sobol, though.”
It took the two of them staring blankly at each other for several seconds before she started laughing. Presley rolled his eyes and reminded himself that Vittoria had a... unique sense of humor that often ran toward the lewd.
“What I mean is I can’t ride like this all the way to Rawdon.”
“So, you aren’t the—. Nope. Not going to finish that joke.”
Ignoring this, he said, “I get the sense you are in a great hurry to get to Rawdon. Perhaps it would be better for you to ride ahead. I can make my own arrangements, as I told Faustinus. And do so at a pace fit for a man nearing 60.”
“60? Really? By the gods, you’ve aged well. Or is there some spell Faustinus and Moira help you with?”
He went ahead and smiled now. “My secret is quiet living. Meaning I have never been a good horseman, and I’ve never traveled far distances in anything other than a carriage or spacious watercraft. I’ll go as fast as I can, because I can tell it’s important to you, but I can’t do another day of this. You have to slow down if we’re staying together.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine, I promise.”
He shook his head. “What is so important? The marriage negotiations don’t hinge on my arrival being a few days sooner. And I know Faustinus is excited about his new toy, but the bank in Presidium isn’t even open yet. There’s plenty of time to talk to Aldrick and arrange things in Myrcia.”
Vittoria’s eyes danced around the room. There was a good crowd for supper, and on this chill autumn night, they filled in the tables closest to the fire. “We all know Aldrick is an idiot,” she whispered in Myrcian. Up until that moment, they had been speaking in Immani, and while it was marginally safer to speak Myrcian, there was a very real possibility someone nearby spoke it, too. “The important thing is to ally William Trevelyan to the Sigors, which Aldrick could do by having him marry his own daughter, Lilianne. But he insists on Alice. Why?”
“Perversity?”
Vittoria shook her head. “It’s something else, but as close as I’ve been able to get to him, I can’t figure it out.”
“I’m eager to get the marriage alliance settled as well, but do I really need saddle sores to accomplish that?”
A shout went up from a nearby table over a card game. It looked like good-natured high spirits, but Vittoria and Presley still leaned closer to speak and kept glancing at the table with the game.
“The bank is also important,” she went on. “It’s, well, complicated. But Moira and Faustinus really do want it set up in Myrcia as soon as possible.”
“I still don’t see how he’s even managed to get the license.” Presley shook his head, going through it all systematically. “He’s in debt—the Prefecturate and himself personally. He has no skills for running a bank, and the director he’s chosen is completely unqualified. I can’t think who would be crazy enough to invest with him. And what even is he using as capital?”
Vittoria’s lips twisted up into a smirk. “That is actually what the rush is about.”
“The capital? What does Rawdon have to do with that?”
“Oh, just everything. Look! Our supper is here. I took the liberty of ordering you the pork chops.”
A red faced, skinny girl set their plates in front of them. “Anything else?” she asked in a high chirp.
“A couple more ales,” Vittoria answered, slipping the girl a coin.
As soon as they were alone, Presley leaned over his pork, potatoes, and gravy, which really did smell amazing, to hiss at Vittoria. “What do you mean? Is the capital in Rawdon? That makes no sense.”
“Later,” Vittoria answered through a smile as she twirled the charm at the end of her necklace. “Look happy to have your meal, and we’ll talk later upstairs. The only real question is your room or mine?” She waggled her eyebrows again before popping a potato into her mouth.