Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

Renee bit her lip. A registered mage would never dare this, but the Vipers sheltered unregistered ones. And now they used their human weapons to close in on King Lysian. Mistress Olivia and her son were just pawns caught in the crossfire.

Olivia’s eyes closed. “The day after that a second letter came, ordering me to add a powder to the king’s drink. When I refused . . . ” She broke into sobs.

Fisker cleared his throat and looked up at Seaborn. “Healer Grovener examined the child upon his return from the second disappearance. With the board’s permission, I would like him to testify tomorrow to the boy’s condition.” He waited for a nod and turned back to his witness. “When you received the third letter, you followed its instruction, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You knew you committed treason by doing so?”

“What choice had I, sir?” She straightened her back. “I will sacrifice my life for my son.”

A bearded man seated on Seaborn’s right shook his head. “Your life is yours to give, mistress. But you offered up the Crown’s.”

Sourness filled Renee’s mouth. A rogue Viper mage drove Olivia to her task. And she would hang.

Fisker dismissed the maid and called the bodyguards from the dining room to the stand one by one to relay what they’d seen. Renee stared at the witness box while they spoke, her heartbeat straining. Everything had happened so fast. Arrows flew, people screamed, wounds bled, porcelain crashed to the floor. She hadn’t thought beyond the crisis of the moment, and could not have. But now, the board, sitting in the safe comfort of velvet chairs, would dissect it all. Would they find her incompetent? Images fluttered. The king jesting with his family. Sasha’s gripping fingers, begging her to stay. Renee too weak to budge the shutter. Did she remember it right? Did—

“Cadet de Winter.” Seaborn’s tone said he was repeating himself. “Take the witness box, if you please.”

Forcing her shoulders back, Renee took her place. She bowed, then clasped her hands behind her back and awaited Fisker’s pleasure.

“You are the cadet who closed the window shutter, effectively ending the assault?” said Fisker.

Renee blinked. “At Commander Savoy’s direction, sir, yes.”

“But you recognized the danger first?”

“No, sir. The commander noticed it first.”

Fisker made a show of frowning. “So Commander Savoy was the first to both recognize the danger and the solution, but left it all to a sixteen-year-old cadet?”

Heat rose to Renee’s face. “He had closed the shutter before dinner, sir. When the maid reopened it and the assault started, Commander Savoy was shielding the Crown.”

Fisker tented his hands again, his missing finger leaving a gap in the pattern, and held a pause. “You too had a protected that day?”

“Yes, sir. King Lysian’s cousin, Sasha Jurran.”

“How were you able to cover her while addressing the window?”

Behind her back, Renee clenched her hands together and glanced at Sasha. “I wasn’t, sir. I left her on the floor.”

“Did Commander Savoy order you to do so?”

She ground her teeth. “He instructed me to close the shutter.”

“The shutter was made of heavy metal. Didn’t you have trouble moving it?”

Her face flushed. “Yes, sir, I had trouble.”

“I see. So, the commander ordered you to abandon your post to correct a problem that he knew you were not physically suited to handle . . . while he himself remained in the corner of the room?”

“He was guarding the Crown!” Renee turned to Seaborn in an appeal for reason.

“Answer the question, Cadet de Winter,” Seaborn instructed. “Are the guardsman’s statements accurate or not?”

Renee tensed, her gaze darting around the Justice Hall. Fisker awaited her answer, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. She wished no part of this game. It was unfair.

“Answer the question. Now,” said Savoy.

“Servant Savoy, you will be silent or you will be removed,” said Seaborn. His lips pressed together. “Cadet, answer the question.”

“Yes, sir,” she heard herself say, and was dismissed to her seat. In the audience, her father smirked beneath his mustache.

Savoy was called up before she could apologize. He smiled at his interrogator.

Fisker stepped back and cleared his throat. “Commander, you were the most senior, most experienced bodyguard present inside the dining room. Did you perform a threat assessment when you entered the room?”

“I did.”

“Was the window there?” Fisker asked.

“It was.”

“Did you recognize it as a source of potential danger?”

“I did,” said Savoy.

“And you permitted the Crown to sit facing it nonetheless, did you not?”

Renee shook her head. Savoy had no more say in the seating arrangement of the royal family than he did in their choice of meal.

Fisker pressed ahead without waiting for Savoy’s answer. “And later, when the maid opened the shutter, you begged others to shut it, is that right? You made no move yourself?”

“Yes,” said Savoy, his voice calm.

Fisker leaned forward. “Tell me, sir, do you believe that had you acted, addressing the window yourself instead of making a child assume the task for which she was poorly suited and bear the risk herself, you could have stopped any arrows from entering the dining room?”

“I believe I erred earlier than that, guardsman.” Savoy leaned forward in a matching motion. “Had I replaced your guard unit with twelve-year-old cadets, I would have had a perimeter team able to differentiate its ass from its elbow, and arrest the archer before he took the first shot.”

Seaborn paled and the room erupted in shouts.

“You’d think half the class would be here,” Renee said to Alec, pulling herself atop the cold training yard fence. That morning had welcomed frost on her window and she’d had to dig through her chest for a woolen shirt. A few dozen paces away, the men of the Seventh, all lean and fit, checked laces and adjusted their packs while maintaining a steady roar of conversation. Savoy blended in with them, his face animated with talk and jest.

Alec snorted. “It’s the Seventh’s first day, not last. No one is coming at dawn on a liberty day to watch them do push-ups.”

“But it’s the Seventh. Isn’t anyone curious?”

“Not at this hour.” Alec stretched his back. “Has the Board of Inquiry finished deliberations yet? They’ve been at it for a week already.”

“On everyone but Savoy.” Renee pushed the memory of the sobbing woman from her mind before it seized her thoughts, instead relishing the memory of Savoy’s final words. “Fisker indulged a personal grudge and painted a target on him.”

“Grudge?”

“When Savoy was a cadet, he helped Fisker fall off a horse. A cut festered and . . . ” She waved her hand vaguely. “Point is, personal histories don’t belong in the Justice Hall any more than Fisker’s private moral code does. He had no call to single Savoy out.”

“Well, Savoy was the senior officer in the dining hall. And the only Servant. He was responsible for the room. ”

She twisted toward him. “You think Fisker’s right?”

“No.” Alec held up his palms. “I think he might just be doing his job.”

Renee opened her mouth to respond, but a tall young man, whose tanned skin and dark hair rlink:[]eminded Renee of a hawk, clapped Savoy’s shoulder and pointed toward her and Alec. Savoy looked up, expressionless, while several others erupted in laughter.

Alec pushed away from the fence. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

Her cheeks heated. Alec was right. There was no reason to be here, watching other people train instead of working her own sword. More chuckles sounded, and when she glanced back, Savoy was studying the sky.