With a sigh she entered the library. Sunshine poured in from the domelike cap over the massive, two-story room. Several seemingly random windowpanes were blocked out, and the shelves around the library were set at odd angles and heights. Sage had thought the arrangement peculiar until the master of books explained it was so no direct sunlight ever fell on the royal collection. Then he’d shown her and her pupils how much damage sunlight could do to books and documents over time. Even Princess Cara had found it interesting.
Clare looked up from the table where she sat with the two princesses, who were already absorbed in their research project—Carinthia to get it over with and Rose because she loved it. “What’s wrong?”
Sage shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t matter. “I just ran into Alex.”
Clare nodded sympathetically. “Luke found me about an hour ago. He said Captain Quinn was given command of a new unit. He and Lieutenant Casseck and a few others are going with him.”
Sage frowned. It was silly to be jealous that Clare had learned more than she had. “Where are they going?”
“He didn’t say.” Clare stood and put an arm around her waist. “Don’t worry, we can be miserable together.”
That both Luke and Alex had given so few details was puzzling. The queen might be onto something after all. “Clare, have you ever heard of Colonel Traysden?”
“Papa mentioned him the other day, but I don’t know anything about him.”
It was the only bit of information Sage had. “Let’s ask Sir Francis.”
The master of books looked up from his cluttered desk and smiled as they approached. Sage had met him in the very first week of her arrival at the palace, before she knew she’d be offered a job as royal tutor. Thanks to the map he’d drawn for her that day, she’d never gotten lost in the maze of passages. “Can I be of assistance to my ladies?” he asked, his long, white beard bobbing up and down with his words.
“Perhaps,” said Sage. “Have you ever heard of Colonel Traysden? I thought I knew all the palace guards, but that name is unfamiliar.”
Sir Francis sat back in his chair, his robes flowing down his thin frame like dusty candlewax. “Colonel Traysden isn’t a guard. He’s the king’s minister of intelligence.”
The spymaster. “Where does his rank come from?” Sage asked.
“He was the last commander of the Norsari Battalion.”
Sage inhaled sharply, but Clare only looked confused. “Norsari used to be Demora’s best fighters,” Sage told her. There was almost no limit to what they could be called upon to do—fight in traditional battles, go on rescue missions, scout in enemy territory, even commit assassinations and sabotage. Or so Father had told her.
“They were disbanded by my father twenty-four years ago,” said Rose from behind them. “As part of the peace in 486. I wrote an essay on the war last month,” she explained to Clare as she held out several pages of the day’s work for Sage’s inspection. “I interviewed Papa for the assignment. He said he wished he’d never agreed to it.”
Sage glanced over Rose’s work. She knew the terms of that treaty well—the Norsari had been broken up, and Kimisara had ceded Tasmet permanently to Demora. If last year’s fighting could be considered an attempt by Kimisara to take the region back, then the agreement was nullified.
That was what was happening—the Norsari was being re-formed. And Alex … Sweet Spirit, Alex had been given command. No wonder he was excited.
Sage glanced up at Rose. “I’ll look this paper over tonight. You can go to lunch; I’ll see you in the classroom later.” Cara looked up from her seat hopefully. “Yes, you can go, too,” Sage called to her. “Leave your work on the table.”
Carinthia was out the door before her sister. Sage turned her sweetest smile on the librarian. “Sir Francis, do you have any books on the Norsari for Lady Clare?”
“Of course, my dear.” The master of books stood and led the way between shelves, needing no cataloging system to guide him. When the old man passed away, his replacement would have a hell of a time finding anything.
“It can’t be just the Norsari, Sage,” Clare whispered as they followed. “Why else would Papa be involved? He’s a diplomat, not a soldier.”
“Maybe they’re anticipating a new treaty when this is over.”
“Perhaps.” Clare didn’t look convinced.
Sir Francis stopped at a shelf of military history and ran a bony finger over the spines until he found the one he wanted. “Here you are, my lady. Birley’s account is the most accurate, I would say. His grandfather was among the first Norsari.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Clare, accepting the book. The librarian nodded and returned to his desk, his mind already back on his previous task. As he walked, he passed a nearly empty shelf.
“What used to be there, Sir Francis?” Sage asked.
The master of books paused to squint where she pointed. “Casmuni history and trade. Ambassador Gramwell took them last night.”
Sage and Clare exchanged glances and followed Sir Francis. “What are you working on here?” Sage asked, gesturing at the parchments scattered across his desk.
“Trade documents,” he said. “They’re all over two hundred years old, and many are in Casmuni, which no one can read anymore. I found them when I was helping the ambassador last night. The previous librarian didn’t store them properly, and they’re mixed up and falling apart.” He settled back into his rickety chair and rubbed his eyes. “The ambassador wants them as well, but I must sort them and have a scribe copy them first. My vision isn’t what it used to be.”
“I can do that,” Sage said eagerly. “Lady Clare can help. She assists Ambassador Gramwell in much of his work already.”
Sir Francis smiled up at her, his faded blue eyes watery from the efforts of the last few hours. “I’d be glad to let you, but it will be terribly boring work. And I still need to sort the ones written in Kimisar.”
“Which Lady Clare and I both speak. We can do it.”
“Well, bless me. You’re more than welcome to it.” He stood again and shuffled to a back room. “Let me get you blank ledgers to copy them into. One for the ambassador, and one for our library records, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Sage called to his back before smiling at Clare. “Maybe we’ll make one for Her Majesty, too.”
12
SAGE DANCED UP the path to the willow tree. Not only had she and Clare managed to sort the crumbling pages, they’d realized they came in groups of three—different translations of the same document. With the old treaties, Casmuni words and phrases could be worked out—not well, but it was a huge start. As it now appeared obvious the king expected to open talks with Casmun, what she and Clare had discovered could be invaluable.
She also had an idea Alex was bound to like.
Sage swept aside the curtain of willow branches. Alex was right there, and she jumped into his arms and kissed him before he could say anything.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Alex said when she leaned back. “Happy to see you don’t want to waste what little time we have.”
Her grin was almost giddy. “How long do you have now?”
Alex dropped to the soft grass and pulled her down next to him. “Maybe half an hour.” He leaned closer.
“Alex, wait.” She held up a hand to block him. “I wanted to talk first.”
He ducked around and kissed her neck. It was very distracting. “What about?”
“When are the Norsari leaving?” she asked.
Alex froze for a moment, then sat back, eyes wide. “Who told you about the Norsari?”
“No one. I just picked up enough details to figure it out.”
“What kind of details?” He’d drawn his brows down, but he looked more worried than angry. “From whom?”
“Just…” Was it that much of a secret? “Clare said you had command of a new unit, and soldiers have been arriving for weeks, and they’ve all been so skilled, and then you mentioned Colonel Traysden. I know who he is.”
Alex exhaled, though whether in relief or exasperation, she wasn’t sure. “Forget what you know, then. Don’t speak of it with anyone.”
“Of course.” She could keep a secret. “But why is Ambassador Gramwell involved?”
“Bleeding hell, Sage!” Alex pulled away from her completely. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing!”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”