The sergeant shook his head and looked back to Charlie. “Everyone makes mistakes, Alex,” he said. They had been friends as boys, but Ash so rarely used Quinn’s first name anymore that the captain knew it was to reassure him how deep his trust still went. “You’re still new to being captain. It’s expected.”
Except not everyone was the general’s son, and now his blunders also had bigger consequences. The stakes would only ever get higher. Quinn watched his brother turn back to them, struggling to hold all the knives in his small hands. How much longer before Charlie’s life was in his hands? He exhaled heavily. “When is this meeting?”
“An hour after morning muster.” Quinn nodded in acknowledgment. Ash retrieved his dagger from the jumble Charlie carried back to them, then rumpled the boy’s hair before looking back to Quinn. “Don’t be late.”
*
The next morning, Quinn reassembled and brushed off his already spotless uniform, cinching his sword belt over his jacket with growing apprehension. Was he being demoted? He’d never heard of such a thing, but his mind had run wild with possibilities long after half carrying Charlie to the pages’ tent, having allowed the boy stay with him and his officers by the campfire late into the night.
Ash Carter waited patiently for him outside the tent Quinn shared with Casseck. When Quinn could delay no longer, he joined the sergeant and the two walked side by side through the camp, taking several shortcuts between the rows of tents. In the past week, more of the permanent structures had come down, meaning the army would start moving very soon. Quinn wasn’t likely to get away from it on his own for a while, though.
At the general’s tent, Quinn paused to watch several other officers stream in. This was a much bigger meeting than he’d realized. Inside, a dozen senior officers gathered around the table laid with maps and reports, and he understood what it was: an intelligence briefing. Relief washed over him as he understood this was actually a good thing.
Quinn and Ash took places in the back, standing with the lower officers. He caught a glimpse of his father at the far end of the tent, writing at a desk. The general’s personal section had the comforts of rank—a wide bed, a wooden cabinet, and a washbasin, but no privacy curtains. An officer was never truly off duty. Quinn had only ever seen the area divided from the rest on the occasions Mother visited.
Major Murray called the meeting to attention, and the general stood and walked over to the table. Once everyone was at ease again, the senior officers took turns reporting on their action in the past week. A Kimisar squad was tracked crossing the border to the east and had been lost in the foothills of the Catrix Mountains. Local villages reported seeing groups of men like the one Quinn intercepted, but no raids, and the men had vanished like smoke. Quinn’s own skirmish was detailed by his battalion commander with no comment on his lack of patience.
The meeting continued with attempts to find a pattern in all the events reported. Quinn wasn’t asked for any insights, nor did he offer any. He cringed inwardly as the consequences of his mistake piled up. Were it not for him, they might be able to do more than speculate.
The only thing to do now was learn from it.
When the discussion was spent, Major Murray picked up a sheaf of papers and began reading orders out loud. Quinn straightened when he heard his name.
“Captain Quinn: you, three officers, and thirty men will leave for Galarick in two days. From there you will escort the brides from Crescera to the capital for this summer’s Concordium. Submit the names of your men by sundown.”
What?
“A ceremonial guard?” he blurted out.
Eyes around the table shifted to him, and the captain on his right smirked, but Quinn focused on his father, who returned his gaze calmly. The parchments describing their orders were passed over, and Ash took them. When the meeting closed and everyone was dismissed, Quinn lingered, waiting for a chance speak to his father alone.
“Too bad my father’s not a general,” Captain Larsen said from beside him. “I’d’ve liked to squire around a bunch of ladies for a few weeks.” He made a show of folding up his orders and tucking them into his jacket. “Well, I’ve got to have fifty men ready to ride by sundown. Pick one out for me, will you, Quinn? I like blondes.” Larsen sauntered out while Quinn glared at his back.
From his side, Ash held up their orders for him to take, but Quinn ignored them. After a few seconds, the sergeant folded the papers—there were several—and cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll tell everyone where we’re going.”
He left Quinn standing alone, clenching and unclenching his fists. The last colonel finished talking with the general and departed, leaving only the two of them in the tent. His father watched him from the table with a map still laid across it. “I know you’re not happy with your mission.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Quinn crossed his arms. “Matchmakers and preening noble girls as far away from danger as possible. It’s a cavalry officer’s dream.”
His father pinned him with a look as sharp as his sword. “You’re not in a position to look down on any assignment right now.”
After several seconds of silence, Quinn dropped his gaze. “And this is how I will learn patience. This is my punishment.”
The general sighed. “Yes and no.”
Quinn looked up. The no interested him.
“In truth, I’m to blame for your mistake. You weren’t included in these meetings before, and you should’ve been. I didn’t want to be seen as favoring you.” His father cleared his throat. “What I’m going to tell you now wasn’t brought up earlier, and I don’t want it spreading through the camp.”
His father had his full attention now.
The general gestured to the map. “My gut says that squad you caught was headed east. I think the D’Amirans are communicating with Kimisara.”
That was quite an accusation, though not outlandish. The D’Amiran family had unified Crescera, Mondelea, Aristel, and the Tenne Valley into the country they called Demora over five hundred years ago, but decades of corrupt and decadent rule led Robert Devlin’s ancestors to overthrow them three hundred years later. While the family wasn’t destroyed, they existed only on the fringes until the Great War forty years ago. With the annexation of Tasmet, a new dukedom was created and awarded to General Falco D’Amiran for his role in wrestling it away from Kimisara. It was only a fraction of their former power, and given their history, many suspected the D’Amirans wouldn’t be satisfied with scraps from the Devlin table.
“Does Uncle Raymond know of your suspicions?” Quinn asked.
His father shook his head. “Not yet. The winter was so bad I wasn’t able to send sensitive dispatches across the mountains—even the south pass at Jovan was blocked until last week. The king is almost completely unaware.”
“So I’m to be the courier of your concerns.” That at least felt important.