Was Darien trying to get Lendra killed? Herself? Why else would Darien refuse an offer of help? Yes, it was human help, but they were all allies now—at least in Taftlin. Why not take advantage of local help and bolster some Taftlin pride? Why offend allies over trivial things?
“You do not give orders here!” Darien snarled, but Bethany was too busy watching the front doors to really care what he was saying. Myra stuck her head out and nodded briskly. Bethany turned her back on Darien to open the carriage door for Lendra. She yanked out the metal steps and offered Lendra a hand, careful to adjust her dress when it threatened to catch and tear.
“Bethany! You will look at me when I speak to you.”
Bethany winked at her sister and turned to face Darien. She took four long strides to stand toe-to-toe with him. She wasn’t as tall as him, but he hadn’t filled out into adulthood yet, either. His shoulders still had the scrawniness of youth. He also held himself like a preening peacock in the armour, the way Jud always wore his. He looked uncomfortable and unsure how to stand properly in it. Bethany, on the other hand, knew she looked as though she’d emerged from the womb clad in battle armour.
Bethany stared up at him, narrowing her eyes and clenching her jaw. She held his gaze and made not a sound or utterance. She thought about every single man who’d ever stood in her way and the numerous bones she’d broken during their removal. Something in her expression made Darien flinch and he looked away.
“Apprentice Knight Bethany,” Darien snapped, “bring my trunk.”
Bethany barked out a laugh. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t afraid of this little shit. Did he honestly think he could intimidate her? Surely no one was that stupid.
“Good one. Lendra, you head inside with Myra. I’ll grab your small trunk. Did you want your leather bag, too, or should I leave that one alone?”
Darien stepped in front of Bethany. “You will do as you were ordered or you will regret it.”
“I guess you really are that stupid,” Bethany said, the words tumbling out before her brain could catch her tongue. But, the words were out, so she let them stay. It looked like the confrontation would be happening sooner than she’d hoped, but all of this pussyfooting around Darien was grating her nerves.
Darien bristled. “What did you say?”
“I said you are stupid,” Bethany said, facing off with him. “Darien, do yourself a favour and ignore everything Jud told you.” She paused. “Actually, what did Jud tell you about me?”
“That you are pathetic,” Darien said, still snarling his words.
Bethany grunted. “I’m ahead if that’s all he said. Look, you’re new at this, kid. You need to learn who to suck, and Jud’s dick isn’t it.”
Fury filled Darien’s expression, and his face turned red. “How dare you imply I am a degenerate?”
“I didn’t imply that. I...” Bethany stumbled over her words, caught off guard at how offended he was. “It’s a human saying.”
“How dare you make that accusation?”
“Darien, I made no accusation.” She shrugged. “It’s just a saying.”
She winced at his breath, and spittle sprayed her face as he shouted. “I am your superior! You are not in charge. You will obey me.”
Bethany forced a neutral expression on her face. She didn’t want to get into a brawl. She wanted to get to the Imperial Palace, and then ditch the deadweight Jud had shackled her with. There were still knights in Taftlin working with Arrago, as well as regulars and militia she trusted. Kiner was still there. She’d get Jonas back with her, Myra, Jackson, and even summon Sir James if she had to. There were even a few members of the Black Hand, the spy network ran jointly by the clergy and the knights, though operating somewhat independently on their own.
“Are you listening to me you...you...whore!”
Kiner had been in charge of the Black Hand’s operations during the war. Now, with his expulsion from the Silver Knights, she had no idea who’d be in charge now. Lendra told her she’d heard Kiner had been appointed to some job within the Taftlin court, which would make sense. But she’d have to watch her back now. There was no one protecting her until she got to the palace.
Her silence infuriated Darien and he shouted, “Nothing to say? Lady Bethany, I mean Apprentice Knight Bethany has nothing to say?”
Motion caught Bethany’s attention and she shifted her eyes. She saw a man she was certain she knew. Short, pot-bellied, mostly bald, brown skin. He was handing a pouch to a taller man, wearing mismatched armour.
The man noticed Bethany’s attention and his eyes widened. He pushed the taller man, who turned to stare at Bethany. She turned her head—even as Darien shouted, “Do you understand me, bitch?”—and openly looked at the two men.
“Shit!” the bald man said.
“Get out of here,” the taller man said. This one was definitely a Taftlin. Brown hair, tanned skin, and a decent height for a human male.
“She’s seen us!” the bald man said, before hurrying to mount his horse.
She knew him from Castle Gree. Of that she was certain, and she searched her brain for clues.
“I am disgusted with your attitude. You arrogant, violent, embarrassment of an Elorian. I am ashamed to even share a smidge of the same blood line as you,” Darien went on, snarling.
Bethany ignored him, along with his tirade about her lack of virginity, her gambling, her drinking. He even blamed her for the destruction of the Temple of Tranquil Mercies and the entire war against Magic. She’d heard it all before, often from her own mind; Darien was significantly less scary than her own internal voice.
Bethany turned her head to get a better look at the bald man. Was he Lord Rutherford’s personal aide? Or was it Rayner’s?
“Do not turn your face away from me!” Darien shouted and punched Bethany in the gut.
She’d not expected it; the blow knocked the wind out of her. She buckled over and gasped for air. Darien punched her again, this time hitting her in the ear. Bells rang in her ears and she dropped to one knee, waiting for her stunned reflexes to kick in.
“What are you doing?” Lendra demanded.
“Go inside,” Darien instructed.
“Step away from her,” Lendra ordered.
“I said, go inside,” Darien repeated, snarling his words. He knelt down to grab the front of Bethany’s tabard. “I am going to enjoy putting you in irons.”
Bethany slammed her forehead against Darien’s equine nose. It didn’t produce the desired wet snap she’d hoped for, but his wails of pain were an excellent consolation prize. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved Darien off his feet with her boot. He hit the back of his head on a rock and wailed some more when his fingers came back covered in blood.
Bethany surveyed the area, but both men were gone now. Damn. She looked at the stunned raw recruits around her. “Did any of you see where that man went?”
“What man?” Myra asked.
“The man that was right over...never mind.” She looked down at Darien and sighed. “Get up before you cause a scene.”
Through gasps of pain, Darien said, “I hereby charge you with...”
“Shut up,” Myra snapped. “Just shut the fuck up, Darien.”
Bethany gasped in surprise. So did Lendra. So did everyone else.
“Myra, stay out of this,” Bethany said harshly. She could handle the trouble Darien would bring down on her. Myra had no such protections.
“No,” Myra said sharply. She walked over to where Darien lay on the ground. “I know your mission was to incite Bethany into striking you so that you could charge her.”
“That is...a lie,” Darien gasped out.
It was Myra’s turn to reach down and grab Darien by the tabard. Bethany stared at her and stepped back out of the way. She didn’t need the rescue, but Myra was obviously in the mood for it.
“Shut up, Darien,” Myra snarled. “I know the game you think you are playing, and I know what you are. I know who you are. I know tha
t Jud asked you to spy on Bethany, and to then do everything in your power to make her break the rules.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Darien spat.
Myra grinned at him. “I am a half-Rygent. I know why you are so eager to please Lord Jud, and I know why you hate Bethany so much. So, either spill what’s going on, or I will spill your secrets. Understood?”
People were beginning to gather. Two maids carrying baskets stopped to openly stare. The stable boy, covered in hay, poked his head out to watch the show, his pitchfork leaning against his shoulder. Another maid covered in soot and carrying a bucket with a cloth cover joined the maids to stare.
“Jud is coming after you,” Darien sneered.
Bethany snorted. “I’m in Taftlin. What reach does Jud have here?”
“For Apexia’s holy sake,” Lendra said, exasperated. “People are staring at us. Can we please move this inside like civilized people?”
Bethany turned to face the other knights with them. “Go inside, get our rooms.”
No one moved.
“I said go,” Bethany snarled. The difference between her and Darien was reputation. They all knew her. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. They listened when she spoke. Darien would have to eventually learn that shouting and yelling was a very small part of leading. In the end, it was reputation and experience that engendered the obedience he craved.
She was about to shout the order again, but Myra beat her to it.
“You heard her!” Myra shouted. “Go! Move! Follow orders! Now!”
Bethany’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t let the young knight see. Reluctant feet shuffled inside, and several heads turned back in hopes of catching every possible second of drama. Bethany kept her temper under check. Darien was a piss ant; ant being the important part. He was a pawn, and nothing more.
The children finally disappeared inside the inn, leaving Myra and Lendra to flank Bethany. She crouched down to Darien’s level. In a steady voice, she said, “Let’s establish some rules.”
Darien said nothing. Tears streamed down his face, no doubt without his consent. His nose was bloody and he pressed his hand against his nostrils.
“First, I have decades of experience. If circumstances were different, I would be the one preparing you, Myra, and the others for the trials. Second, never hit me again unless your intention is to kill me. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you endanger me. Third, while you were busy waving your cock in my face—”
“I didn’t!” Darien sputtered. “I...it’s...”
“Not actually.” Bethany sighed. Why had this isolated elf been given his rank without any proper training? The entire purpose of field training and conditioning was so that the elves in Wyllow and the like could be exposed enough to the world to survive. Taftlin was going to eat Darien alive.
She offered Darien a hand. He glared at her. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up. She reoffered her hand and said, “Jud made you a fool. It’s your choice to stay one or to learn something. But, kid, take it from me. You are in way over your head right now. I can be on your side, but you have to trust me and not whatever Jud told you.”
With some reluctance, Darien slapped his bloody hand into Bethany’s and she hauled him to his feet. She inspected his face and said, “You’re holding your nose wrong. Lean forward, pinch below the bridge, stop checking to see if it’s stopped bleeding.”
Darien eyed her with a sullen expression, but did as she instructed.
“You’ve had a few bloody noses?” Myra asked, mirth in her voice.
Bethany snorted. “No, I was born with this crooked, bumpy nose. Now, while you were showing off and calling me names like a toddler, one of the bandits who attacked us was just over there accepting a purse of money from a man that I recognize from Castle Gree.” She glared at him. “But since you struck me, I wasn’t able to confront him and now they’re both gone.”
Darien whipped his head around to look where Bethany pointed. There was just the normal foot traffic of the stable boys and various maids, along with some patrons of the inn. The mysterious men were long gone. “Oh.”
“Now, if my memory serves me correctly, the man was one of the assistants to King Arrago’s advisors. Lendra, did you get a look at him?”
Lendra shook her head. “Sorry, Bethany. I was paying attention to...well, you know.”
Bethany turned back to Darien. “See? Your tantrum, sanctioned though it was by Jud, caused us to miss the opportunity to find out why we were attacked. What’s more, the bandits know where we are. There is now a money trail, which means this wasn’t a random attack. And what does that mean?”
A pained expression came across Darien’s face. “We could get attacked again?”
“More than that. We could get attacked again with overwhelming force. We repelled the first attack. We might not be as fortunate the second time.”
“Oh,” Darien said. “I didn’t...I didn’t see them there. I was...I was trying to follow my orders. He said I had to be really strict with you and...this is my first ever command, Apprentice Knight Bethany. You have to understand. I’ve not even done my adaptive course yet. How do you do it?”
The last bits of Bethany’s rage toward Darien evaporated, replaced with an overwhelming desire to break Jud’s neck with her bare hands. Elves required more sleep and food than humans, and were often cold. However, field knights—any knight that would serve outside of Wyllow, basically—had to complete a retraining course. It was two years for elves, where they learned to live in the cold, without sleep and without food. They learned to eat human food—flesh and animal fats—and even learned to hunt eventually. It was a horrible experience for all of them, and many elves broke before completing the training. However, no one could move to a command position, however small, without it.
And there was Darien, a puppy, put in charge with no backup, and expected to carry out difficult orders with a difficult mission...Jud was sending the kid up here to get Lendra killed and to take the fall for it, assuming he wasn’t killed himself.
“Oh shit,” Bethany said.
“What?” Lendra asked.
“Oh, shit, shit, SHIT.”
“Um, Bethany? Can you try using more words?”
“We need to get you inside. Now. Shit.” Bethany looked at Darien. “And then you are going to tell me exactly word-for-word everything Jud told you, did, said, all of it.”
“What’s going on?” Myra asked.
Bethany glanced at the very young Elorian woman. Myra was more experienced than a girl her age should be; she’d been caught behind enemy lines and held her wits about her. Bethany trusted her, even if their respective experience was oceans apart. “We’re all being used here. Let’s get inside and puzzle this out. Then the four of us are going to discuss the chain of authority for the rest of this trip.”
“Yes, Lady Bethany,” Myra snapped instinctively. She glanced at Darien, who was still holding his nose. “Well?”
Darien cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Lady Bethany.”
“Good. Let’s get inside and let’s figure out this mess.”
****
Bethany walked into the Warm Walrus and looked around. A handful of patrons were eating something grey from what Lendra used to jokingly call blates: the wide-brimmed bowls that Taftlins favoured for all meals, as opposed to deep bowls and flat plates like elves. A fire crackled off to the side, providing light and an unnecessary amount of heat, though it did drive the damp from the room.
They followed the innkeeper, a Mrs. Oak, up the creaking stairs. Hay and heather covered the wooden floorboards out of reach of the screened fireplace. It had lost its freshness hours, if not days, ago. The air was heavy with the stench of horse shit and unwashed bodies, and all of them winced as the innkeeper led them through the stink. It was hot by Taftlin standards, but the dozen or so patrons clearly hadn’t adjusted their layers of clothing nor their hygiene standards.
Bethany’s eyes wate
red, but she managed to hold back her coughs. Lendra sneezed and coughed delicately into her hand. She gave Mrs. Oak an apologetic smile and said, “Hay makes me sneeze.”
“Bad time of the year for it, my dear,” Mrs. Oak said.
“Indeed,” Lendra said, sneezing again.
Darien was less discreet and openly gagged repeatedly. Awful retching sounds escaped him and even Bethany stopped to glare at him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Mrs. Oak asked.
“He accidently ate bad meat,” Bethany replied, grimacing at the sounds coming from him.
“Yes,” Darien managed to squeak out. “Most terrible.”
Mrs. Oak shook her head and turned back to walking up the steps. Her skirts swished on each level against the hay floor covering, stirring up dust and dirt. She was an older woman, with wide hips and pendulum breasts that not even her corset could properly contain. Her black coils were wrapped up in a bright yellow wrap, but they poked out at the top.
On the third floor, Mrs. Oak said, “I’ve set aside my best room for you people.”
Bethany examined the greatroom before her. It was standard as these things went. Ten beds and a fireplace. Two chamber pots rested in one corner and, from the smell, clearly hadn’t been cleaned well. Bethany resisted holding a gloved hand to her nose, but just barely. The linens, from what she could see, looked clean, and the bedframes appeared dust-free. There was a slight hint of camphor and mint in the air, which relieved Bethany. She hated bedbugs.
“Thank you, Mrs. Oak. This looks fine. Oh, we’ll need a maid to clean the chamber pots,” Bethany said. “Elven nose. We tend to smell those things.”
Mrs. Oak grunted. “That smell’s the floor, my dear. We had a bunch of hooligans stayed here last night and shat all over the floor. We’ve been cleaning most of the day.”
Bethany groaned. “Assholes.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. The maids are out collecting lavender and heather to throw down with the hay. I sent one of the girls out to find some peppermint, too, to see if that helps.”
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