“What news?” Huzar asked in Demoran. He’d ordered that even when alone, no conversations would be in Kimisar. Just commenting on the weather in their own language could mean death if overheard. Better to be heard—and likely ignored—while speaking Demoran.
The shopkeeper swept a few leather scraps into his hand and tossed them in the stove behind him. Unlike Huzar, his complexion was paler than the materials he worked with, and his eyes were a lighter shade of brown—almost amber. Between that and his accent, he was able to blend seamlessly into the tradesmen of Tennegol. He’d even gained the affections of a girl who worked in the palace laundry. Huzar appreciated the extra source of information, but the relationship made him uneasy. “We’ve been nearly cleaned out by those soldiers—gloves, jackets, belts, pouches,” the man said. “But no orders placed beyond what was ready today.”
Huzar nodded. “As I expected.” He turned to the stablehand. “What have you heard?”
The man whistled through his missing teeth. “Lot of hushed preparations. Very little information to be had.” He flicked the gloves away and leaned on the counter with a smile too smug for a man with so little to tell. “The amount of supplies is massive for that number of men.”
“They must be going somewhere without local or army support.” Huzar frowned. “Which direction?”
“If I had to guess? South.”
Not good. The Kimisar were scattered east and south. Huzar had spent months contemplating ways to get them all home, and he kept circling back to part of their original mission. Last spring, the group was supposed to have led much of the Demoran army on a chase through the Jovan Pass to this side of the mountains, using the crown prince as bait. After bringing him back through Tegann, Huzar was to negotiate a ransom that would feed his starving people, but D’Amiran had taken the prince for himself. The duke then had the temerity to blame Huzar when the hostage escaped.
Having a fat, rich nobleman as prisoner might guarantee his men’s safety on the long journey across Jovan and Tasmet. The only other way home was through hundreds of miles of Casmuni desert and another narrow, heavily guarded pass to the south. At best, he would lose half his men. Kidnapping may have shown little imagination, but it offered far better odds.
He’d hoped the Norsari would choose a training spot far away, giving him time to gather everyone, take a hostage or two, and race to the border. Were the Demorans already on the alert? He tapped his fingers on the counter and turned back to the leatherworker. “We need to call everyone—”
“You haven’t even asked who’s going,” interrupted the stablehand.
Spirit, grant him patience. Huzar threw a scowl at the man. “That Quinn is in charge is confirmed by Filip’s girl in the castle.” He jerked his thumb at the man behind the counter. “Also going are two officers who were with him at Tegann.”
“Is that all she said?” The man smirked. “Any barmaid in the city could’ve told you that.”
Huzar’s hand snapped out and grabbed the stablehand by his scrawny neck. He held him there, not bothering to bring him closer. “I do not play games with information that could mean life or death, and neither shall you.”
The Kimisar choked and gurgled for several seconds. “The prince,” he gasped when Huzar loosened his grip a little. “The prince is going with them.”
Huzar dropped him. “Idiot. Prince Robert is in Mondelea.”
“And the bastard prince is worth little,” added Filip.
The stablehand gasped as he knelt at Huzar’s feet. “Not Robert or the other. Nicholas. The youngest.”
“He’s just a boy,” said Filip.
The stablehand rubbed his neck as he stood straight with a triumphant grin. “He is a squire. He and three others are assigned to each of the four platoons.”
Huzar frowned thoughtfully. Demorans took officer training very seriously—something he admired—and their squires were expected to handle many independent duties. Even a prince would not be exempt from the rigors.
One of the most valuable hostages of all, out in the open. Close to the border.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
21
THE NORSARI RECRUITS assembled on the plain outside the city gates in the early morning light. Alex led his two mares along as he looked for Sage. She’d skipped yesterday’s mission brief, though he’d sent her an invitation. He was actually glad not to see her. The whole time he’d spoken about the training patrols, Alex was conscious of how much he was omitting, how many outright lies he told his own men. Sage would’ve seen right through him.
A few townsfolk had come to see them off, and several of his men were engaged in quiet talk with sweethearts. Most enlisted soldiers didn’t have the money or constant enough location to be properly matched. As a result, they either married low without a matchmaker or waited until they’d saved enough to buy their own land—and rare was the soldier who managed that—or they aimed for a commission, like one of his new lieutenants. Tanner had achieved his rank on the battlefield, having been denied squirehood because he couldn’t read until he was past twenty.
That only reminded Alex of how he’d met Sage, and how she’d been eager to teach him to read when she thought he couldn’t. She hadn’t even been motivated by guilt from their initial misunderstanding; Sage simply wanted to help him be the best he could be. It wouldn’t just be Prince Nicholas who benefited from her attitude, either. With everyone she met, Sage unconsciously teased out what they needed to become better people, whether it was learning to read or—in his case—remembering who he was under layers of duty and responsibility.
He continued along, still not seeing Sage in the crowd. Since he hadn’t had a chance to ask her what horse she was taking, he’d gone ahead and saddled Shadow for her and arranged another horse from the stables for his baggage. Though horsemanship would be part of Norsari training, only the officers would be riding as they traveled. Every other horse would carry supplies while the enlisted men marched.
After several fruitless minutes of searching, Alex scanned the women watching from off to the side. Could she have changed her mind? If she had, he’d drop the whole captain act in front of everyone and kiss her senseless. To hell with discretion.
His optimism faded into confusion as he still didn’t see her. He tugged the horses along until he found Cass, making marks on a checklist. “Have you seen Sage?”
Casseck glanced up in surprise.
“Do you think she changed her mind about coming?” Alex asked hopefully.
His friend stared at him like he didn’t know what to say.
“Where is she, Cass?”
Casseck slowly raised his hand from the board he held and pointed.
Alex pivoted to look, but standing behind him was only one of the four squires. He wore a sort of oversized tunic that came to his knees as he secured the load on a packhorse.
Then the boy turned around.
22
SAGE THOUGHT SHE would be sick. Yesterday, cutting her hair had solidified her resolve; she’d never had another moment of doubt. Now everything felt overruled by the shock on Alex’s face, but it was too late.
He took several steps in her direction, then without a word, he dropped the reins he carried at her feet and turned away, leaving her with Shadow and a horrible, empty feeling.
Once they were on the road, her hurt evolved into anger. She was coming along. Alex might as well accept it.
The capital city dropped away behind them until the last glimpse of it was covered by the hills. Casseck rode beside her, dispensing advice on leading her packhorse and filling her in on some of the plans they’d made. Maybe he was avoiding Alex, but he kept his thoughts and reasons to himself. There were only so many benign topics they could cover, though.
“How long have you known Alex?” she asked finally.
Cass answered cautiously. “Since we were ten. I arrived after he’d been in page training for a few months. He had a bit of a reputation as a fighter. Did he ever tell you that?”