Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

“I need to see King Lysian. Alone.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Just that? And have you a plan for accomplishing that small errand?”

“Tell him I have maps of the Vipers’ underground lair and know the location of two dozen child prisoners, but will only share the information if granted an audience. Would that answer?”

Seaborn looked at her sharply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It may.” He glanced around the hall. “What have you hid up your sleeve, Renee?”

“The Seventh and a few other details.”

Seaborn straightened, his exhausted eyes surprised as she sketched out her plan. “Bloody gods. You’re as crazy as Korish.”

“And?”

He nodded. “I will try. Wait in the gardens.” He lowered his voice further. “And watch your words in the halls. Our friend from the Pig has been skulking around too much for my comfort.”

The sun rode low on the horizon when a servant in palace livery finally appeared to escort Renee to the Crown’s chambers.

“He recalls you from Queen’s Day,” the woman confided, climbing the stairs to the king’s private apartments.

Renee nodded. The servant stopped by a carved wooden door, knocked thrice, and, upon receiving permission, announced her charge.

King Lysian sat on the windowsill, one knee drawn up and shoulders pressing into the curved stone. He was dressed simply: a pair of black breeches and a blue shirt, a few shades deeper than his eyes. Embroidery wreathed the cuffs and collar of the starched cloth. A miniature painting of a child’s profile rested in his hands. He turned his head toward Renee but stayed seated. “I am given to understand that my once future Servant now holds information hostage.”

She tightened her jaw to ward off the sting of his words and considered her next move. “Information is a coy mistress, Your Highness,” she said, curtsying. “Once met, she will not leave, even when her presence grows inconvenient.”

The king considered her for a moment, no recognition of who she was, beyond a failed cadet, apparent in his eyes. Then a spark of uncertain comprehension. He tilted his head. “You wish to tell me something, yet to have me not know it?”

“My maps of the Vipers’ lair are yours, Your Highness. As for the rest, yes, you took my words correctly.” She held her breath.

He touched the painted child’s cheek and put down the piece, then swung himself to face Renee. His head tilted and his fingers tapped each other for many moments before a grin suddenly lit his face. “Forgive my manners! How could I have failed to recognize my dear cousin’s friend?”

Renee tilted her head. Of course he had recognized her. Even the servant who led her here had said so. “Think nothing of it, Your High—”

His hand interrupted her. “His Highness refuses to grant audience to the errant Lady Renee de Winter . But it would be my honor to entertain a family friend in my cousin Sasha’s absence.” He slid to the floor and offered a bow proper for a young man’s greeting to a maiden. “My friends call me Lys.”

Her face tingled. “An honor . . . ” Unable to bring herself to call the Crown by his given name, she hid the verbal stumble in the folds of another curtsy. “I am Renee.”

“A name of beauty. May I offer you wine?”

Renee rose to her feet and accepted the goblet, catching the mischief playing in Lysian’s face as he presented the drink. Her heart pounded.

He smiled at her.

She buried her nose in the wine. “I fear I’m a terrible gossip.”

“Then I shall endeavor to believe none of it, but will listen attentively in the name of good manners. Will that answer?” Despite the jovial tone, the last was not said in jest.

Renee nodded soberly. “I believe it would.” She took an offered chair. “I heard rumor that a group of soldiers left their post to assist a friend in peril. Should their mission succeed, I believe it would serve the Crown to have authorized it. In fact, it would serve the Crown to claim the whole matter had been a pre-planned covert assault on the Vipers.”

Lysian frowned. “And should the mission fail?”

“The Crown knew nothing of it. Soldiers will always find mischief. Such things are sergeants’ concerns.” She squared her shoulders. “All the men made their choice freely. They understand the consequences.”

He hoisted himself back onto the windowsill, setting the cup beside his thigh. “We speak of Commander Savoy.” His finger rose to ward off protest. “I pay mind to the fate of the man who saved my life, and I know I have withheld aid that may save his.” Lysian lowered his face. “What you suggest will permit the Crown to reap the rewards while taking none of the risk. It sounds unjust.”

“It is.” She replaced her cup onto the tray and crossed her legs. Lives hung on her words as surely as they did on fighters’ swords. “The rescue attempt will be made regardless—during the next Predator match in two days’ time. We have no way of knowing where Savoy has been moved in the interim. If it fails, it fails. But at least in success, the Crown’s seal would save the soldiers from punishment for abandoning their posts. That is better than nothing. The existence of official orders would also give more weight to Commander Savoy’s later testimony against the Vipers, telling the world that no group is beyond a Servant’s reach.”

“Speak to me of the underground.” Lysian sipped his wine while she described the maze of narrow tunnels and mage-locked cages. “There is not room for an army?”

“No.”

“But it is a terrain to which a few well trained fighters would be suited . . . if not occupied with rescuing their leader?”

Renee stiffened. Should Lysian order the Seventh to abandon Savoy in pursuit of Atham’s hostages, their refusal would buy them a noose.

As if aware of her thoughts, Lysian put up his palm. “I may be new to the throne, but I have learned enough not to issue orders that would not be obeyed. I spoke of a follow-on action.”

A breath of relief escaped her. “Yes. They would be both well suited and well positioned for the task.”

“Very good.” Lysian leaned back against the window and regarded her. “I will write such orders, to be made public only in the event of the Seventh’s success. I will also give you a sealed note ordering the Seventh to attempt hostage rescue upon securing Commander Savoy’s release. But I set one condition, Lady Renee.”

She inclined her head and waited.

“Upon exiting these chambers, you will once again bear the title of Servant Cadet. You will be permitted to remain in Catar until this mission ends, but must then return to the Academy and finish training. Will you accept?”

Heart pounding in her ears, Cadet Renee de Winter dropped to one knee. A warrior’s formal salute to a king she served once more, a pledge from the Crown’s champion that she would become.

Blood was in the air. Renee could feel it. It was in the eyes of green-clad young men who diced on street corners, in their words as they muttered over cheap ale. The innkeeper at Hunter’s Inn tensed each time the king’s name sounded in the half-empty common room. Alec said the veesi trade dropped—dealers had other concerns. The armorer’s shop stood empty, its door battered open and merchandise gone. The two days since the Crown’s arrival had cleared the cobblestones of children and the elderly, drove nobles to visit relatives. Even Diam stayed put without being told.

At the end of the second day, the evening before Savoy’s fight, Lord Palan returned to Hunter’s Inn. If walking amidst snakes bothered the head of the Family, there was nothing in Palan’s face to suggest it.