The Sentinel Mage

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE





“I HOPE YOU enjoy the cold, islander.”

Karel glanced up from his breakfast. The armsman seated opposite him was one of the king’s.

“What?” the man said, grinning broadly. “Haven’t you heard?”

Karel feigned disinterest and returned to eating.

“Stupid son of a whore,” the armsman said to his neighbor. “I’ll be glad when he’s gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“Horst. Rikard’s being sent into exile. Ship leaves tomorrow.”

Karel stopped chewing. He stared down at his plate.

“Duke Rikard? Are you certain?”

“He’s not a duke any more. Stripped of his title, stripped of command of the army.”

“What?” someone said, across the table. “Rikard leaked the invasion plans?”

“Left them unlocked in his study, where Lundegaard’s spies found them—or so the investigators tell it.”

“Spies?”

“Dressed as bondservants, they reckon. Slipped into the duke’s study and copied the plans. Stupid whoreson, leaving them lying around like that.”

“Too busy rutting his new wife to think beyond his cock,” an armsman said.

Someone else grunted agreement.

“Who’ll command the army?”

“Count Frankl. Rikard’s with him now, handing over.”

Karel stopped listening. He forced himself to swallow the food in his mouth. It took all of his self control to stay seated on the bench. Rikard was going into exile tomorrow.

Does the princess have to go with him?





AFTER BREAKFAST CAME training. Impatience ate at him. The wrestling matches weren’t a distraction; they were chores to get through before he could go on duty. Karel fought with single-minded purpose, winning each bout with brutal efficiency. “Whoreson,” his last conquest gasped, spitting blood. “You nearly broke my rutting neck.”

“Islander!” the training master bellowed. “Out of the arena. Now!”

Karel went.