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She hesitated. “Not exactly. I understand you cannot overlook what she did. But I would ask you to match her punishment to her character. If you strip her of rank and hope, she becomes nothing to Veraene. With the right handling, she could mature into a valuable soldier.”
Joannis leaned back in his chair. One by one, he touched his fingers together. Counting. Calculating. “I see. Well, I will take your argument into account.”
His tone indicated that their interview was over. Ilse stood, reluctantly. Joannis had explicitly warned her against the subject of Raul Kosenmark. She could hardly ask him to forward the news about the Károvín ships, never mind the possible link to Morennioù. “Thank you for speaking with me.”
Joannis smiled briefly. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Her gaze flicked up in surprise. He nodded. She started to speak, but he motioned her to silence. “You should know that I’ve sent word about today’s events to Duenne. No doubt you heard that we took prisoners. Consider that our king might send a trusted representative to oversee their interrogation. It makes for an interesting situation,” he added.
Meaning that the king’s representative would investigate all aspects of the invasion, including her involvement. She, too, would have to tread carefully.
“I see,” Ilse breathed. “Thank you for the information.”
Back in her rooms, she found someone had taken away the tray. The door had been locked, she was certain. Nevertheless, she made a circuit, checking all her belongings, from books, to any records she kept for Mistress Andeliess, to her weapons and clothing. Nothing missing. Nothing misplaced.
Except one kiss.
And my sense of honor.
* * *
GALENA WOKE AT sunrise, to chimes signaling the quarter hour.
She had been dreaming again, the vivid dreams called life memories. An enormous raptor had swooped down and snatched her away from a blood-soaked battlefield. She remembered the stab of its claws, her hands losing hold of her sword, which spun down to the field below. Her ears still rang with screams from the dying soldiers, with the raptor’s harsh cry as it bore her upward, ever upward.
You were a soldier then, too. You served the king. You were good and brave.
Or was I?
Galena veered away from that question. She knew very little about her previous lives, only that she had fought and fought again. She never knew the end of the battle though, no matter how much she wished to see that moment. Perhaps it was Toc’s will, to keep soldiers brave in the face of death.
The thought comforted her.
Eyes closed, she lay still, listening to the rattle of the reed blinds, like an echo of wind from the raptor’s flight. A rose-red light pressed against her eyelids. It was early yet. All around, the rest of her wing and file slept in their cots. Many of them snored. Marelda, in the cot next to Galena, stirred restlessly. On the other side, Ranier murmured, as if talking to himself in a dream.
Soon the watch bells would ring. Soon her companions would burst into motion, flinging themselves into another day. Oh, but not like yesterday. Nothing could match the thundering of her pulse, the crash of swords as she joined with the others against the enemy. Adler might even choose her for a patrol to hunt down that Károvín officer. Tallo had mentioned that her tracking skills were better than average.
The barracks door creaked. Galena sat up in time to see Falco stalk noiselessly into the room. His gaze caught hers. He gestured sharply for her to come outside. Galena rolled from her cot and peeled off her nightshirt. She struggled into her tunic and trousers. With boots in hand, she hurried into the hall where Falco paced, scowling. “Adler wants to see you,” he said.
“Do I have time to wash?”
“I doubt it. She said she wants you sooner than now.”
Galena grinned. It was just as she had imagined. Adler wanted to tell her first, in private, about the patrol. She saluted Falco, then pulled on her boots and was racing across the garrison yard to the officers’ quarters. The guards admitted her at once. Clearly they had expected her. Encouraged, Galena jogged up the stairs to the commander’s office. She paused in the stairwell long enough to smooth her tunic before she presented herself to the guards outside Adler’s door.
“Send her in,” came Adler’s reply to their announcement.
Galena marched into the room, stopped, and felt the blood drain from her face.
The regional governor stood behind the commander’s desk. She’d only seen Lord Joannis from a distance before. He looked older, plainer, despite the silk tunic with its gold embroidery. Next to him stood Thea Adler. Her close-cropped hair gleamed silver. A thin scar ran the length of her jaw. She had fought in the ranks, decades ago. When Galena saluted, Adler glanced in her direction, her face blank of emotion.
“Tell us about the Károvín officer,” she said.
The room closed around her, hot and stifling. Ilse lied to me was her first thought. Her second was to explain everything. She choked back those words. Adler hated excuses. Her only chance was to give a straightforward report. Right. She swallowed once to wet her throat—it did no good—and gave a brisk nod.
“I was part of the troops ordered to the western shore,” she said. “When the fighting started, we pressed forward to join the rest. A man came at me. He was very strong. He drove me back. Before I knew it, he’d knocked me to the ground. When I looked up, he had disappeared, but then I saw one of my companions in need. I went to his assistance at once. By the time the battle ended, it seemed clear that we had killed or captured all the enemy.”
There, that was the truth. She had not actually yielded to the man. She had tried to hold him back. She wasn’t a coward. And he might have died in the fighting. It was possible.
