Father had always said those in power feared losing it, but Darnessa’s anger didn’t feel like vanity to Sage. If she’d learned anything over the winter, it was that the matchmaking guild had high standards and tight control. Even a whisper of matching for personal gain was dealt with swiftly, and as the head of Crescera’s guild, Darnessa took her leadership role very seriously.
“I don’t know what’s going on lately,” continued the matchmaker. “But I’m glad it’s a Concordium year. We’ll be able to compare notes and see if it’s part of a bigger trend.”
“He didn’t seem too enthused about the girl.” That was truth, but Sage had offered it to make Darnessa feel better.
The matchmaker relaxed a little. “Hopefully that’s a sign he’d rather have me find him a wife. We’ll pair him up after we return. I’ll get Jacqueline what they want, and the family will come back to me.”
Sage bent over her work again, marveling at the power her employer wielded so casually. Yet in all her travels, in all the people she’d met, the matchmaker hadn’t found anyone for herself. In five months, Sage had never detected any bitterness on the subject, though, which gave her the courage to finally ask, “Why did you never marry, Darnessa?”
“Same as you,” Darnessa answered with a conspiratorial wink. “My standards are too high.”
9
ON CHAPEL DAYS, camp routines were reduced to a minimum, giving the soldiers a chance to rest or catch up on duties. Captain Quinn usually set aside an hour or two to spend with Charlie, but since he hadn’t seen his brother in almost three weeks, this time he promised him the whole afternoon. He used it as an excuse to avoid people, too. Every hearty slap on the back or congratulations Quinn received over last week’s ambush felt like a punch to the gut—he didn’t deserve to be celebrated.
Charlie, as usual, wanted to practice some sort of skill for at least part of their time. The page was still in the early stages of swordsmanship, which was to say, he was helping the blacksmiths make, repair, and maintain blades for a year. As a firm believer in the process, Quinn wouldn’t interfere by giving actual fighting lessons no matter how much his brother begged. An informal archery competition was developing on one side of the camp, so Quinn talked Charlie into knife throwing as far away from everyone else as possible.
For his age and size, Charlie was already adept at hitting the target, so Quinn wanted him to work on greater distances. Charlie balked at first. “But I want to draw faster and smoother. You can do it like lightning.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow at his brother, wincing a little as his forehead wrinkled. The sutures had come out yesterday, and the warm April sun made the scab itch and burn. “Which do you think is more useful in battle, hitting your target from farther away or looking pretty while you miss?”
Charlie gave a resigned sigh and took three more steps back. Quinn smothered a smile. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been in Charlie’s shoes.
After several rounds of throwing and another range increase, they were pulling their daggers from the target wall when Charlie turned to him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No, why?”
Charlie shrugged as he worked to free a blade stuck between two planks of the wall. “You seem distracted. And you missed four times. You never miss.”
“Most people wouldn’t call this missing,” Quinn said, tapping the hilt of a dagger stuck three inches from the center of the painted target.
“You would.”
Quinn tried to act like nothing was wrong. “Everyone has off days.”
They’d walked back to the range line before Charlie spoke again. “When we passed Captain Hargrove earlier he said something, and you made a face.”
Charlie was too observant for his own good sometimes. “What kind of face did I make?”
The boy didn’t look at him as he set the practice daggers on top of a barrel. “You looked embarrassed.”
“I don’t like people making such a fuss over me just doing my job; you know that.”
Charlie picked a knife, then set his feet and focused on the target. “It’s not that. You’ve been unhappy since you came back.”
Charlie knew how to keep a secret, but it wasn’t the fear his brother would tell all the other pages about his failure that kept Quinn from explaining. Nor was it because he didn’t want to lose Charlie’s admiration—his brother thought too highly of him already, and he should know Quinn wasn’t perfect. No, it was because Quinn hadn’t figured out how to make this right. Until he did, he would carry it himself.
At that moment Charlie yelped as he was lifted off his feet by Ash Carter, who’d snuck up behind them. Quinn was glad Ash had chosen to grab the page, as he’d been so distracted himself he’d not seen the sergeant approach. His friend could just have easily taken him by surprise.
“Dereliction of duty, soldier!” shouted Ash, throwing Charlie over his shoulder and spinning in a circle. “You must be on guard at all times!” He set a laughing Charlie on his feet and held his shoulders so the page wouldn’t fall over. “Sweet Spirit, you’re getting big. How’ve you been, kid?”
“Good. Squire Palomar said he would put me on the duty roll soon,” said Charlie with a proud grin.
“So I heard,” said Ash. “Show me what you’ve got here.” The sergeant gestured to the knives and the target. When Charlie’s attention was focused away, Ash’s dark eyes sought Quinn’s own with a meaningful look. Something was up.
They waited for Charlie to throw the six practice blades plus the one he carried on his belt. Then Ash and Quinn offered their own daggers for him to throw. With nine knives to remove from the target, the pair would have a few minutes to talk privately while Charlie retrieved them.
“You and I have been called to the general’s tent tomorrow morning,” said Ash quietly as soon as Charlie was out of earshot.
Quinn folded his arms to cover the sick feeling in his stomach. He’d managed to avoid his father for the last few days and hadn’t pushed for another assignment. “What about?”
“Don’t know,” said Ash, focusing downrange.
“Maybe he wants you to put on lieutenant.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. He knows why I don’t want it.”
That didn’t mean the reason would always be accepted. Quinn wondered if the general felt Ash having greater authority in their rider company would strengthen it. Maybe his father wanted the calming presence Ash brought to everything. Ash’s rank didn’t matter to Quinn, though, as long as his friend worked for him.
Ash glanced up at him. “You look worried.”
“After last week’s fiasco, don’t you think I should be?”