by Keri Arthur
Which I was.
I glanced back down at the papers again and studied the duty stations. My group had been assigned watch over the head section of the haulers; Donal and his men had the long, curved spine, and a third team watched our rear. Though putting me in charge of one of the smaller areas was undoubtedly a strategic move on the captain’s part, it also meant we were beyond the sight of the main encampment. And that could be dangerous. Dravan’s long list of offenses suggested he wasn’t the type to deny his need for brutality for long.
Which meant that if I was to have any hope of controlling the man, I had to prove I was not only willing—and capable—to stand my ground but also to return like for like. But I’d spent the last twelve years watching the ruthless way with which my brother dealt with others, and I was pretty sure I could channel his arrogance and brutality if the need arose.
I put the notes back onto the desk and took a sip of coffee. “I should be just another soldier. I have no right leading these people.”
“If you want to sit on the glass throne, Princess, you have to learn to lead.”
A wry smile touched my lips. “Giving me freedom was easy. Giving me the throne won’t be.”
“I’m not giving you the throne. You’ll take it yourself.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So says the wind?”
“Yes.” Amusement twitched his lips again. “Of course, we do have to survive not just this night, but every night for the next six months and whatever it is that comes to destroy.”
“So she’s still playing coy about this nebulous threat?”
“She is indeed.” He picked up one of two halos sitting on the table and handed it to me. “Your call sign is Caracal One. Your team numbers from two to five. You tap once to talk to them, twice to contact the captain.”
A caracal was a now extinct wildcat that had once inhabited the Westal Mountains. I wondered if it was a coincidence that I’d been given it, or if it had been a deliberate choice. Was my brother perhaps sending a message?
“So the captain sleeps with an activated halo?”
“Until we get to the Karva Pass, where communications are monitored twenty-four seven by the operations team, yes.”
“This is why I shouldn’t be leading. I don’t know basics.”
“Neither did any of the people in the relief squad until six months ago. You’ll learn, and faster than them, I’ll wager.”
“Maybe.” I hooked the halo around my ear and then pressed the pliable tail into my auditory canal. My inner ear tingled briefly, a sign the unit was now active. “What’s the expected procedure for watch duty?”
“Your people report on the half hour or when a disturbance is spotted. There shouldn’t be any problems, but if there is, you send out two people to investigate.”
“And if that disturbance turns out to be hostile?”
“Inform the captain immediately and order your people out of danger.”
“That all sounds simple enough.” And I was betting it wouldn’t be. Not with Dravan in the group. “What’s your call sign?”
“Wildman One, which is rather appropriate, is it not?” He picked up his halo and pushed away from the table. “Shall we go?”
“Personally, I’d rather not.” I finished the rest of my coffee and stood. “But I guess it’s better to confront rather than delay the inevitable.”
“Just remember that no matter what, you are unit leader. Demand their respect and back it up with actions, and they’ll eventually come around.”
I ducked out of the tent. “Eventually being an undefined time in which danger abounds and the prospect of ending up with a bullet in my back grows.”
“Even the hardest of felons won’t risk death by attacking a superior officer in the middle of a main encampment.”
I snorted. “That’s not exactly a comforting thought.”
“If you survived twelve years of abuse at the hands of your father and brother, you can survive whatever hazing these people might fling your way.”
I wasn’t worried about simple hazing. Words could never physically break me. Guns, however, were another matter entirely.
They had them. I didn’t.
But even as that thought hit, energy stirred under my boots. They might be armed, but I had something far more powerful to call on. And while the earth couldn’t stop a bullet, they couldn’t fire at me if the ground opened up and swallowed them whole.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, highlander.”
“Indeed you will, Princess.”
He didn’t add “good luck,” even though I half expected him to. He obviously had far more confidence in my ability to cope than I did.
I spun around and walked through the camp, heading for my group’s assigned meeting point at the nose of the first hauler.
All four were waiting for me. All four wore expressions of barely restrained contempt and—in the case of the woman—a whole lot of anger.
Sage was around my height with a sharp face, blonde hair that had been plaited into a long braid, and a whip-thin frame. Two of the men—Kaid and Nash—were at least four inches taller than me and had the brown skin and golden eyes that was often found in those of us with Sifft heritage. One was thin, the other not. Both exuded a high degree of confidence in their own abilities.
But it was the fourth man who truly drew the eye. Dravan was as big as my brother—a man-mountain with short-cropped red hair, a bulbous nose, and the freckled features of those from Guilderan, the lands on the southwestern edge of Cannamore before she met the sea.
I stopped in front of them and resisted the urge to cross my arms. I did not need to appear in any way defensive. “I don’t expect any of you to stand on ceremony in my presence, but, like it or not, I am unit leader, and you will respect that.”
“I’ll not respect someone who has no experience and no right beyond birth to lead us,” Sage said.
“Says the woman who is only here because she had the stupidity to break into a danseuse’s house and steal her jewels,” I replied evenly. “And who then compounded that stupidity by attempting to sell them within Divona.”
Her lips thinned. “I’ve nevertheless been trained—”
“For six months,” I cut in. “That hardly gives you a greater claim to the leadership role than me. That is what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
Whatever reply she might have made was stopped by Dravan stepping forward.
The earth’s heat surged, warming my toes and tingling up my legs. She was ready and willing to answer the call to battle should I but ask. But I couldn’t do that—not unless it was absolutely necessary. I needed to win these four over by word and deed, not magic.
I raised an eyebrow. “You have to something to say, Dravan?”
“Indeed, Nyx, I do.”
His tone was pure insolence. I didn’t respond in kind. I might yet have to back my right to lead with action, but I had to start as I intended to proceed—by treating them fairly and with respect.
At least until that was no longer enough.
“Then by all means, please proceed.”
He flashed me a smile that was all teeth and no sincerity. “I will not obey the word of a woman who is considered little more than a trull by those within the court.”
So. There it was. Not only an outright challenge to my authority before the proverbial ink had even dried on the paperwork but confirmation that Dravan was Vin’s bullet. How else could he have heard about my reputation? The court simply didn’t air its dirty linen within reach of the ears or eyes of common folk, especially in front of the likes of Dravan.
I took three steps forward to ensure I was within the strike zone—mine, which put me a whole lot closer to him than I really wanted—and glared up at him. This close, he smelled of smoke, sweat, and stale, unwashed flesh.
“We are a long way from Divona, Dravan.” I kept my voice soft. Pleasant. “I’d watch what you say and do, because nothing but lies prospers in the Glass Court these days.
Do not trust promises made, especially if my brother makes them. Do not ever bank on riches flowing into your hands after treachery has been done.”
His anger surged, even as a hint of uncertainty flashed through his expression. Not a man who should play cards, I thought.
“And like all trulls, you speak nonse—”
I didn’t let him finish. I just hit him. Not with the earth’s energy but with a clenched fist powered by a long history of pent-up rage. The blow connected just under his chin and sent him staggering backward. It said a lot about his strength and balance that he didn’t end up on his butt.
I doubted my action would, in any way, have been military-approved, and I didn’t really care. Men like Dravan only ever respected one thing—power. If you didn’t have it—or didn’t show it—then you were little more than someone to be used or abused as they saw fit.
A lesson I’d been taught over and over again.
I glanced at the other three. “You got anything to add?”
“No,” both Nash and Kaid said, amusement evident. Sage raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained silent.
Dravan wasn’t about to let my action go unchallenged. He charged, his steps like heavy thunder echoing through the ground. I waited until the last moment then quickly stepped out of his way and pushed him sideways. He roared in frustration and swung around—only to find my knife sitting at the end of his nose.
“The next time you attack, Dravan, I won’t hold back. This knife will taste your flesh.” I glanced at the other three. “That goes for all of you—is that clear?”
Again they nodded. Dravan simply glowered at me. The next time, I knew, his attack would be a lot more circumspect.
“As I said, like it or not, I’m in control of this unit. Until that ceases to be the case, you will give me the same respect you give Captain Marx or any of the other unit leaders. Are we clear on that?”
Murmurs of acceptance followed. Dravan merely gave a short, sharp nod. I rather suspected it wasn’t acceptance of my command but rather of the challenge I’d just given. I might have won the first round, but this was far from over. Still, I didn’t push it. To do so when there was no overt challenge would only lose what little respect I might have gained—another lesson I’d learned by watching my brother. Besides, we had a job to do.
I sheathed my knife and stepped back. After assigning them their watch positions, I ordered them to report on the half hour and watched them stride away.
Only then did the shaking start. I took a deep breath, but it didn’t do a whole lot to ease the sick churning in my gut. I wasn’t cut out for this. I might be royal born, but I wasn’t capable of handling this sort of shit day in and day out.
And yet I’d survived twelve years of this very same shit. The only difference was the fact it was being flung from a very different hand this time.
This belief that I wasn’t good enough—that I would never be good enough—was exactly what the king had wanted. It seemed that while I might be physically free, mental freedom was a long way off yet.
I took another deep breath and then got on with the business of keeping watch. The hours passed by slowly, and my team members reported in as ordered—even Dravan. As dawn started spreading her golden fingers across the night sky, our relief came. I stood my team down and made my way back to the temporary kitchen. Once I’d collected my breakfast and coffee, I hesitated and looked around. Donal hadn’t yet arrived back from his watch, but Captain Marx sat with three others—a man and two women—at a somewhat isolated table on the far side. I walked over.
“Nyx,” he said, “let me introduce you to Celi, Merlyn, and Raj, unit leaders from the lunar, sitar, and ghost squads.”
They all nodded my way. Celi had dark skin, dark eyes, and a muscular frame, while Merlyn was almost her exact opposite—a thin build, blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Raj was typical Sifft in looks and was also much older than either the two women or the captain.
“Morning,” I said. “Mind if I sit with you?”
“That’s what this table is for,” Celi said, her tone friendly enough. “We generally debrief over breakfast or dinner, depending on which shift we’re on.”
“A tradition that will continue once we get to the Karva Pass,” Raj said. “Not that there’s generally much to report given the halos are monitored twenty-four seven and an update sheet is handed to the captain at the end of each shift.”
Comments that suggested this wasn’t the first time any of them had done relief duty.
“How many rotations have you done at the pass?” I asked.
“I’m going onto ten now,” Merlyn said. “Rather it than wall duty any day.”
“Five rotations for me,” Celi commented. “And wall duty is the pits—endless hours of watching the river race by is not my idea of fun.”
Raj’s grin flashed. “I’m the granddaddy here with fifteen rotations. It’s fair to say I’ve been well blessed by the gods of luck.”
“Being as sneaky as the fucking Skaran also helps.” Merlyn glanced at me. “His squad was the only one that didn’t lose people last rotation.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”
“Not really.” Raj grimaced. “I was just fortunate enough to be on patrol in some of the worst weather we’ve had in years.”
“Meaning the Skaran don’t attack in storms?”
“No, and just as well,” Celi said. “They’re like damn ghosts at the best of times, and they tend to hit and run. I lost three good people last time around.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Fact of life beyond the border,” Celi cut in, her gaze on mine. “A good half of this group will not live to enjoy the freedom they were promised.”
“Then here’s hoping Dravan Montaire is one of the first to go.”
The captain made a sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh, though there was little evidence of it when I glanced at him.
“How did things go with your squad?” he said.
“As well as could be expected.” I picked up a chunk of bread, broke it in half, and dipped it into my beans.
“So there were no problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Good.” He eyed me for a moment. “I take it you’re happy enough with your team’s composition?”
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
His hesitation was only very brief, but it nevertheless spoke volumes. “No.”
“Then I’ll deal.” With Dravan. With whatever Vin had asked him to do. “Tell me, is the entire garrison replaced every six months? Because that’s a rather scarier prospect than encountering the Skaran, given the inexperience of both the relief squad and unit leaders like me.”
The captain shook his head. “Key positions—such as communications and weapons—are the sole responsibility of full-time military personnel.
“And thank the gods for that!” Ceri said, with a laugh. “I don’t think any of us would feel safe if the miscreants got anywhere near the armory.”
“Present company not included in that miscreant tag,” Raj said, grinning.
A smile tugged my lips. “Given my knowledge of weaponry stops at the sword and knife, my inclusion is certainly warranted.”
“I’m surprised you even know that much,” Ceri said. “Being a princess and all, I wouldn’t have expected it.”
“It would be fair to say I’m not an ordinary princess.”
“That’s a certainty,” Raj said. “Blue bloods don’t often show their faces down in the military zone, let alone join a defense unit like ours. Was it by choice?”
“Raj, personal questions aren’t approp—”
“It’s okay, Captain,” I cut in, and then added, “No, it wasn’t by choice. But I have no regrets about being here.”
Speculation stirred in his eyes, but a look from the captain stopped further questions. It made me wonder yet again just how much he knew about the whole situation.
I ate the rest of
my breakfast in silence. Donal came in about ten minutes later and, once he’d collected his meal, joined us. He was introduced to Ceri, Merlyn, and Raj and then gave the captain a quick report.
The captain finished the rest of his coffee, then rose. “Packing starts in ten, people. We leave on the hour.”
He left, and the other three soon followed. Donal grabbed another chunk of bread and then said, “How did things go?”
I picked up my coffee and took a drink. It was no less sludgy than this morning’s effort, but it was at least unburned. “Fine, if you don’t count the fact that my fist and Dravan’s jaw had an unfortunate meeting.”
Donal blinked and then laughed. It was a rich sound that drew more than a few stares our way. He raised his coffee mug and clicked it against mine. “Well done, you.”
I grimaced. “I fear I’ve only made myself a greater target.”
“No doubt, but given what Marx said of the man, you really had little other choice. You had to show him—and the other three—that you were willing to retaliate, or the consequences would have been far worse.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Especially given the only real difference between my brother and Dravan was the nature of their birth. “The problem is, he’s fully armed and I’m not.”
“He won’t shoot you,” Donal said. “By sending him flying, you’ve issued a physical challenge. If he retaliates by shooting, he’d lose face.”
“I think he’d rather that than get beaten—in any way—by someone like me.”
“Then you need to win the support of the other three so they can help watch your back.”
“Something else I’m well aware of.” I hesitated. “Can you teach me basic weapon handling today? I at least need to avoid shooting myself in the foot.”
He half smiled. “The side of your leg is in greater danger than your foot, given blasters are usually positioned at the hip. But yes, I can.”
“Good. Thanks.” I hesitated again. “How was your team?”
He shrugged. “Interesting. I think one of the men and two of the women fancy me, but that’s only natural given I am a magnificent specimen.”
