Blackveil

“I have assumed command of the Sacoridian contingent of this expedition,” Lynx confirmed. “Second in command is Karigan G’ladheon.”

Karigan almost dropped her mug of tea. Second in command? Another surprise, though it made sense. If Grant was out of favor, then certainly he wouldn’t be second, and Yates could not see, and Ard was not military or in the king’s service. That left her.

“What is your decision, then, Rider Lynx?” Graelalea asked.

“We will continue with you to Castle Argenthyne as our king would wish.”

Graelalea nodded as if there had been nothing to it.

Karigan breathed a sigh of relief just to have a decision one way or the other.

“Suicide,” Grant muttered. “You’re gonna find ruins and death. You should forget those Sleepers.”

“We cannot,” Ealdaen said. “I cannot, and I will not. I was one of those who left them behind.”

His words hung in the air, letting them all absorb what he’d said and what it meant.

“So you were there when . . .” Karigan began.

“Yes,” he replied. His silvery eyes had taken on the aspect of cold pewter. “Yes, I was there when Mornhavon attacked. I led the retreat. I abandoned the Sleepers and . . . and the lady.” He abruptly turned away.

Laurelyn, he’d meant. The Queen of Argenthyne.

“We must break camp and make use of what light we have left to us,” Graelalea said.

Karigan wanted to help, but Lynx ordered her to rest while she could. Because Yates could offer little help, he sat with her and quietly filled her in on the so-called debate they’d had about the mission.

“The man’s not himself,” Yates said of Grant. “He’s becoming unhinged. He was planning to march back to the wall even though he didn’t know the way. He keeps going on about nythlings, too.”

“Nythlings?”

“We have no idea,” Yates said, shrugging. “Lynx says Grant’s also been favoring one of his arms like it hurts him.”

Karigan stole a glance at Grant wrestling with one of the tents and it was true—he was not using his right arm much.

“Anyway,” Yates continued, “Lynx argued that our mission was not complete until we saw Castle Argenthyne and the grove of the Sleepers. Like he said just now, the king would want as much information as we could gather. Grant said the king could go to the five hells.”

Karigan raised an eyebrow. That was not acceptable behavior for one in the service of the king and in command of a mission.

“That’s when Lynx announced he was taking command,” Yates said. And then he proudly added, “I seconded him. I want to go home as much as anybody, but I know my duty. Plus, I wasn’t about to follow Grant, not the way he is now.”

“What about Ard?”

“He preferred turning back,” Yates replied. “He argued for it, but he wasn’t about to go with just Grant and not the rest of us.”

“I guess I didn’t get a vote,” Karigan said.

“I think we know which way you’d choose. But once Lynx became commander, it’s his order to keep going, anyway.”

So they knew which way she’d choose, did they? Her sense of duty had become predictable, but they might be surprised by how all too willing she’d be to turn around. Even if Grant was becoming, as Yates said, unhinged, his reasons for heading home were sound enough.

And yet, Lynx was right to continue, for they hadn’t completed the mission. She shook her head. The mad man among them wanted to take the common sense course and return home, and the sane man wanted to take the insane route.

Such was the way of it in Blackveil, where everything was turned upside down.

HER COUSIN UNMASKED

Estora sank into the plush chair in her parlor in the royal apartments with a cup of her bedtime tea. Her new rooms were spacious and beautiful, but impersonal. With time, she’d transform them to her own tastes, make them her home.

Time, she thought. What time?

How could she consider fabrics and colors and furnishings when every waking moment brought visitors offering congratulations and seeking favors? Or Cummings with interminable lists of meetings and parties and requests? Or messengers bearing news of the land and correspondence from those who were now her vassals? Or Colin to discuss the business of the castle and the realm? Or or or!

She sighed. The only quiet time she was able to claim were her visits with Zachary. Destarion expressed guarded optimism that there were some improvements in her husband’s condition. He rested more easily, his fevers were less intense, and his wound was healing well. There had been some brief awakenings, his dark brown eyes fluttering open, but it was difficult to know how aware he was at those times. All too soon he’d slip away again. Part of the reason, Destarion said, was because of a soporific they gave him to keep him relaxed, permitting his body the time and rest to heal itself.

Besides Estora’s visits with Zachary, the only other quiet time she had was when she went to bed. Usually she was so exhausted by the rigors of her day that she slept soundly and deeply. How could she not sleep well in the canopied monstrosity that had the softest down mattress on which she’d ever lain?

Ellen, her Weapon, entered the parlor. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“Lord Spane has asked to see you.”

Richmont. What did he want at this hour? She found she was displeased, but he was her cousin and had done much to help her. “I will see him.”