“Do you actually have eyes in the back of your head?” Erion asked from where he leaned against the post supporting the lean-to that kept the supplies moderately dry. Well, nothing was ever really dry in the jungle.
“Why do you think I wear my hair in a bun? It helps hide them so people don’t freak out even more when they see me,” Jax quipped.
“You are pretty terrifying,” Erion jestingly agreed.
There was a long pause and Jax finally gave his brother-in-arms his attention. The wind rustled the canvas walls of the structure, sending dust swirling between them.
“Who is she?”
Ah, now there was the question, did Jax answer honestly? Even if he lied, he knew Erion would have his rightful suspicions. Elecia’s voice echoed in Jax’s head, speaking in time to the note she had sent along with her list of supplies. Supplies that were now being sent. Supplies that Jax hoped would make it in time to save the life of a man Jax considered to be his mentor, role model, and brother.
“Serien Leral, just a soldier.” The Windwalker was hunted and Jax had to defer to the highest ranking nobility on this. And, as much as Erion’s Le’Dan blood would protest, that was Elecia Ci’Dan.
“Oh? Just a soldier, huh? And I’m the Lord of the West.” Erion rolled his eyes. “You don’t think I can tell when someone is lying?”
Jax knew Eron’s question was asked to both the Windwalker and himself. Vhalla Yarl didn’t make a very convincing Westerner with her brown eyes and Cyven accent.
“I saw Elecia’s writing on those notes.”
Jax’s hand plastered over his pocket, making sure that he hadn’t accidently left the explanation of who Serien Leral really was in the Camp Palace.
“The girl carries Elecia’s word on Aldrik, but not the Emperor’s. She comes alone. She asks for you directly. Not Zerian who was left foremost in charge.” Erion could be as relentless as a hound on blood. “Brother, you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“You know I can’t.”
Erion threw up his arms in frustration at Jax’s insistence. “Says who? Clearly not the Emperor or Baldair as we’ve not had a letter from either in well over a week.”
They’d arrived at the line Erion would always toe against. The point where he could no longer understand nor tolerate what was the daily truth of Jax’s existence. Baldair did a well enough job of crafting the illusion of freedom. But, that was all it was, an illusion.
“Until I have orders from one of them, I must oblige the closest nobility to the crown.”
“You’re so impossible.” Erion pushed away from the post he’d been leaning against, starting back for camp.
Jax dropped the clothes he’d been holding, grabbing the swordsman’s wrist. Erion stopped.
“You know the truth.” Erion’s expression gave Jax all the affirmation he needed. “You know who she is. You know why she’s here. You know why I can’t tell you. Just from the information you’ve pieced together, from the Emperor’s and Aldrik’s descriptions. You know.”
His fellow Westerner gave a small nod.
“So, help me protect her.”
DANIEL
“Danny.” The toe of a boot nudged his shoulder. “Danny, you have the next watch.”
Daniel rolled over, pulling himself from a hazy sleep. Raylynn stood over him, haggard. Her long blonde hair was plated in a braid that it was determined to fall out of. It was a hard march when they had resorted to the Golden Guard leading all the watches. But there had been too many mistakes and those mistakes had led to death. And if there was one thing Baldair didn’t tolerate, it was his men needlessly dying.
He stood and stretched. Raylynn was eager to leave his side the moment that she saw he was up. The other woman wasted no time in finding her place curled against Baldair. If Daniel didn’t know them so well, he would’ve assumed there was something more than a casual understanding between the two.
The rope bridge creaked softly as he traversed it between the tree hut the Golden Guard had bedded down in and the next closest structure. Deserted Northern towns like this would make excellent safe havens if their enemy didn’t come as often from the trees as they did from the ground. So even though their legion had pulled up or burned all ladders, they still needed patrol.
A familiar Southerner rounded the corner of the building he was headed toward, starting on the rope bridge from the other direction. Daniel raised his hand in greeting and Craig did the same.
“Took over for Raylynn?” His friend asked when he was close enough to whisper. Daniel nodded in affirmation and Craig continued, “I think she swindled you out of some time.”
“It wouldn’t shock me if she did.” Daniel surveyed the hazy forest around them. In the early morning it was almost peaceful. But he knew better. Peace was an illusion crafted by war when it was courting death.