Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

“I wish to give you veto power over the contract.”

She blinked. “Veto?”

He raised the folded paper. “I’ve signed the deal from my side, opposite your father’s hand. If you find the arrangement disagreeable, tear up the parchment. Otherwise, pass it to him. As you see, I offer no imposition. Only choice.”

Renee drew a breath. Despite herself, she had to bow at the man’s skill. She wished no gifts from the Family, but he had given her a gift of knowledge and choice—a gift impossible to reject or return. “Why the generosity, my lord?”

“Not generosity. Only a show of good faith, like I stated before.” His smile said he’d say no more. With a small bow, Palan slipped the folded parchment and another, smaller piece of paper, into her pocket and turned away.

Renee stared at the receding back. “Why did you want Savoy recalled to the Academy?” she called out.

The large back paused, silence filling the air for several heartbeats. “Because it was Diam’s first year here,” Palan said finally, and, tugging down his waistcoat, strolled away.

Renee shut her eyes. Why would the brothers’ reunion matter to him ? And how did Palan expect to benefit from befriending her? She felt the answer scratching the corner of her mind but could not drag it out. Her hand touched her pocket, extracting the small paper scrap. A tavern name and a time. Nothing more. For an instant, she considered turning about and chasing down the conniving lord, demanding that he explain himself. Even as the thought sprinted through her, she knew it was foolish. She could not intimidate Palan into divulging more than he wished any more than she could muscle a sword into the skull of a stronger opponent. And Savoy had already taught her the fallacy of that .

Savoy. Sasha’s news had distracted Renee for a time, but the simmering panic now returned. She needed Verin and the Seventh, and she needed them fast. Praying that Savoy’s men were stationed nearby, she hurried to see the headmaster—and High Constable.

Verin’s office smelled of jasmine tea. On instinct, Renee came to attention in front of his desk before remembering that military courtesies were no longer hers to follow. She inclined her head instead.

“A pleasure seeing you once more, my lady.” Verin diplomatically failed to notice her misstep and rose. He invited her to take a worn leather chair and waited until she sat before doing so himself. “The loss of your company is a great one to both the Crown and the Academy.” His voice was unexpectedly genuine. “How can I be of service?”

She leaned forward. “The Vipers—” The words rushed to her lips and she drew a breath to rein them, and herself, in. “The Vipers hold Commander Savoy captive in an underground Predator lair in Catar City.”

He didn’t even blink. Renee tensed. Waited. Then she felt her eyes go wide with realization.

He knew.

“Is a rescue mission—”

Verin shook his head, cutting her off. “There will be no rescue mission.” He interlaced his fingers and laid them atop his desk. “Your words pain me, but the Crown never authorized Commander Savoy to abandon his post and ride off to his brother’s rescue. A Servant taking independent action is not entitled to the Crown’s army any more than a royal account keeper with personal debts is entitled to the Crown’s coffers.”

Renee stared at him. Her voice failed for several seconds before she forced it to work. “You are Savoy’s family,” she said quietly. “You raised him, taught him to fight, guided his life. He will die, sir, and you can stop it.”

Verin lowered his face, his lips pressed together. When he looked up, a play of the window’s light glistened in his gaze. “I am a High Constable in the Crown’s army.” He voice was low. “I advise King Lysian on military strategy while overseeing the education of all his champions. The position does not permit the luxury of sentiment.”

He would not do it. Good gods. Verin would let Savoy die for the sake of . . . what? Administrative purity that had already been fouled by the Family’s agreement with the king? Renee drew a breath. “I know Savoy was recalled at Lord Palan’s request. And that Lord Palan controls the Family, for all that he tries to keep his hands clean. With all respect, sir, the Crown has already shown . . . flexibility . . . in regards to Savoy. Could you at least address the matter with King Lysian?”

This time, Verin’s brows rose. Tilting his head, he studied her in silence. “I see you are well informed,” he said at last, just when Renee began to expect a denial. “Bending to criminals’ demands, no matter how enticing the apparent rewards, is always a mistake. I have already spoken to King Lysian. We will not do it again.”

She frowned in confusion. “But no criminals are demanding Savoy’s rescue, sir. How would it be a boon to them?”

“An assault on Catar helps the Family.” Verin chuckled without humor. “Do you not see, my lady? When the Crown refused Lord Palan’s petition to attack the Vipers, he arranged for Commander Savoy’s recall from the field. Then, miraculously, Savoy became captive in the heart of Catar’s Viper layer. It is not a coincidence. Lord Palan is using the Seventh’s leader and High Constable’s foster son as bait. The guilt and affection you tried to stir in me moments ago is what the Family wishes of us.”

Renee rubbed her temple. Had Palan ordered Diam kidnapped and given to the Vipers so his older brother would follow? No, Verin’s theory felt wrong. Her fingernails dug into her thighs. “I disagree, sir. This isn’t a Family ploy. Diam’s kidnapper wished Palan himself dead.”

“Surely you realize such demand is a jest!” Verin tilted his head. “Very well. Who do you believe behind the events?”

“Tanil.”

The headmaster smiled. “Which brings us back to the Family, does it not?” He shook his head, his voice hardening. “I believe I am correct, my lady, and I cannot permit Tildor to continue bowing its head to the Family’s strong-arming. Not even for Korish Savoy.”

Renee’s fingers dug into the leather pads of her chair. “King Lysian owes Savoy his life!”

Verin’s palm slammed the table. “That will do, Lady Renee.” His voice froze her to the seat. “In light of your separation from the Academy, this audience is a privilege you and I extend to each other. I am certain neither of us wishes to jeopardize the possibility of enjoying the other’s company in the future. Have I made myself clear?”

Quite clear. Renee left the meeting in a temper to match the growing gale. Verin was wrong and would do nothing. Curse the man. Curse Seaborn and his duties. Curse the entire city. Hunching shoulders against the rain, she went outside, her hands seeking her pockets. Rough paper bent under her fingertips. It was the note from Palan. Taking shelter beneath a tree, she read it again. Greasy Pig. One hour past dusk. Why in the Seven Hells not?

“Two! Three! Five!” Savoy called parry numbers as he advanced on Den, but his mind kept slipping to Renee’s apparent friendship with Jasper. It had been three days since her visit. Did the girl know the fire she toyed with? How long until Jasper turned and hurt her? “It’s a blade, not a club, Den.” Savoy pulled the blow, cracking the wood against the larger man’s clavicle instead of his skull. “And five protects the head. Which, unless your head is up your ass, makes it a high parry.”

Den rubbed the new red mark. “You held back. Don’t.”

Cocking a brow, Savoy threw him a square pad, let the man brace the target, and focused on a point well beyond the padded leather. His muscles snapped like a whip; hip, shoulder, and arm engaging before the blade. The thump echoed through the salle.