“I thought it might be some sort of heirloom.”
“If it were an heirloom, she wouldn’t be giving it away.” He rolled the bracelet around, a frown gathering. “I’ve never seen workmanship like this before. It’s almost Versonian in style, but couldn’t have come from that place.”
Because their lands had been sundered from ours by the Irkallan and a vast landslip, and all communications with them had long been lost.
“It is old,” I said. “So it’s possible it came from a time before the war.”
“Maybe.” He slipped the bracelet onto his belt. “Either way, I know someone who would appreciate such a trinket.”
My thoughts instantly went to the young, blonde-haired woman who tended his chambers. He was obviously a generous man if he gifted his serfs with such things.
“I also want to thank you for your timely intervention yesterday, Commander. If you’d been delayed but a few minutes longer—”
“I would probably have found more Adlin carcasses.”
I half smiled. “Unlikely, given I was almost out of ammunition.”
“Not when you had an air witch—and possibly more—at your command.” His gaze went past me as someone approached from behind. The speculation I’d briefly glimpsed fell once again, replaced by the cool efficiency of a man in charge. “You’re in the lead carrier, March, and part of the protection detail for Lady Saska.”
A soldier stopped beside me and offered me a bandoleer for the rifle and several clips for the gut busters.
I slung the former over my shoulder and attached the latter to my utility belt. “Thank you, Commander.”
He nodded and stepped back. “Assume your position, March.”
I nodded, formally saluted him, then spun and headed into the first carrier. Once Lady Saska and Lord Kiro were secured in the second vehicle, the engines were booted and the big machines rumbled forward.
It was a long and uneventful journey home. As Winterborne’s massive curtain wall began to dominate the evening horizon, I couldn’t help but wonder if Saska was as grateful to see it as I was, or whether her feelings ran to wariness or even fear. After such a long absence, she had to be uncertain of her position within her own family as well as in her husband’s bed. Although, given her countenance this morning, I suspected whatever emotions she might be feeling would be hidden under a mask of dismissive coldness.
The carriers swept through the gatehouse and came to a halt in the inner bailey. Mak November—the day shift captain and a man I’d once been involved with—was waiting, along with a full escort of guards in the heavy blue-and-gold uniforms of the Rossi family. Beside them, hovering just a foot or so off the stone, was a heavily curtained, sun-powered, short-range carriage.
Saska and Lord Kiro were greeted by the captain, then quickly ushered into the carriage and swept away. Only then were we allowed out.
“Check those weapons back in, then make your report, March,” Mak said, voice brusque. No surprise there given how badly our relationship had ended. “Captain July wishes you back on the line this evening.”
If I were the betting type, I’d say it was Mak behind the order more than July. I might have been the model of soldierly decorum since our breakup—mostly, anyway—but Mak had never really forgiven me expressing my exact opinion of him in the bitter moments after he’d told me he was marrying someone who was “nice and unstained.”
I saluted and then headed across the yard to armory three. Several day duty guards greeted me, but it was more a perfunctory, almost absent gesture than one containing any real warmth. The Nightwatch and the day guards rarely mingled, except on the odd celebratory event such as the upcoming masque.
Though there was still an hour before his shift should have started, Jon had already claimed his usual seat.
“Where’s Henry?” While I was surprised to see Jon, in truth, I’d much rather deal with him than his counterpart. Henry was several years older, and a whole lot crankier.
“He’s had to go to the infirmary—some sort of stomach bug. The cap asked if I’d step in for the last couple of hours.” His smiled flashed. “Good to see you back in one piece, lass.”
“It was a rather close run thing, let me tell you.” I slipped off the bandoleer and rifle, and followed him across to the armory’s door. “And I will have you know that the knife proved to be very handy.”
“Ha!” He hobbled around to his desk and opened the records folder on the desktop. “I’m guessing that means you should keep it.”
My gaze jumped to his. “But it’s noted in the inventory—won’t that get you into trouble?”
He waved his free hand as he began scanning in my weapons. “As I said, it’s been delisted. It’s yours if you want it.”
“I do. I owe my life to this thing.”
“I’m thinking the busters and the rifle might be due a word of thanks, too.” Amusement crinkled the deep lines in his face.
I grinned. “Maybe just a little bit.”
He handed me the stylus. I signed the weapons back in then gave him a sketchy salute and headed out. The bunkhouses lay at the western edge of the main wall, where the vast White Cliffs fell three hundred and fifty feet down to the Sea of Giants—so called, I was told, because of the white limestone stacks that still dotted the bay. There were no walls between the bunkhouses and those cliffs—there was no need for them, as both the Irkallan and the Adlin had a morbid fear of water. Even spring water caused them pause if it was deep or wide enough.
The room I shared with Ava and four others lay at the top of the five levels, and backed up against the old wall. It was a good position, because we had no one above us and neighbors only on one side rather than two. The price we paid for this was six in a room but none of us was willing to swap this relatively quiet position for a little more space.
I’d barely stepped through the door when Ava all but threw herself at me. She was slightly taller than me, with a lithe, softly rounded body that belied the steel of her core. She had the dark hair and lightly tanned skin of the Sifft, but features that echoed the rare beauty of those from Uraysia—a wider, more exotic-looking facial structure, a mouth that was made for kissing, and eyes that were as black and as heavenly as a starless sky, with the epicanthic fold enhancing rather than detracting from their beauty. Her body, pressed so firmly against mine, was trembling, her nipples erect and hard. Awareness stirred, and though it held none of the power of what had beset me both in the hospital and in Stone’s chamber, it was at least welcome this time. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her lightly, filled with relief that I was still able to do so.
“You didn’t get dead.” Her breath warmed the base of my neck. “I’d feared the worst when I found out what happened.”
I frowned. “Didn’t the captain pass on the news of my survival?”
She snorted and drew back, but kept her arms wrapped loosely around my neck. “Numbnuts was on. Such a nicety wouldn’t even enter his brain space.”
I chuckled softly. Ava had never forgiven Mak for his treatment of me, or the manner in which he’d acted since our breakup.
Mind you, nor had I. I was just a bit more circumspect about it after Captain July had chastised me for publicly running Mak down one drunken day.
“Hey,” a deeper voice said. “I thought we had a rule—there’s to be no canoodling between two of us without approval from the missing third?”
Ava’s snort was louder this time. She loosened her grip on me and turned around. “Well, if you want to sleep the whole damn day away, dearest April, who am I to judge?”