I gripped the dagger until my knuckles hurt but my heart seized up in my chest.
The general gave me a sly look as he leaned back into his seat. “That will be all, Asta.”
Those words… I knew them. I swore I’d heard them in a dream once, a hazy nightmare where I’d been robbed of the power to govern my own body. Goosebumps rushed over my skin. Why had he said those words exactly? It was as if he had the ability to look into my mind and see the things that I feared the most.
I shuddered and retreated.
Chapter Sixteen
Helka, Bodil and the children had gone when I trudged into the drawing room. King Torvald spoke to a stocky gentleman with a handlebar mustache and graying hair. He wore a black and purple uniform with medals. Gabor and Lennart stood by the empty window frame, muttering amongst themselves. The servant who had been struck was alive but unconscious, snoring on the couch while being examined by a doctor.
“Lady Isa!” the king said when he noticed me. “Are you hurt?”
I found his concern irritating, not only because of the possibility that it could be an act but also because it might be real. I fought the urge to growl at him. “I’m fine. The blood you see isn’t my own. How are the children and their mothers?”
The king came close as if to gauge for himself whether I was truly all right or not. He frowned. “This isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to…” He looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “Forgive me. My siblings and their mothers are alarmed but unhurt.”
The man with the mustache joined us by the doorway. “Lady Isa, I am Philo, guard master here on the royal grounds. The king has told me what happened, but can you walk me through the events of the evening for my records?”
Gabor and Lennart abandoned the window to hear my account. I told Philo everything, including the death of Gosta and my confrontation with the general. I didn’t tell him or the king about the details of our conversation, only that General Halvar had confirmed his involvement in the scheme and I had expressed my distaste.
Philo shook his head and tssked. “This explains why your servant is merely asleep and not dead, Your Majesty. But what kind of man would sacrifice one of his own crewmen for a test?”
I looked into the king’s eyes when I said, “Not the kind of man I would want representing Holger overseas.”
Torvald frowned. “I’ll speak to the general myself and see that he understands the severity of his actions tonight.” He turned to his guard master. “Philo, would you mind stationing more guards around my home so that Lady Isa can rest tonight? She’s had a taxing first day out of the academy.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord,” Lennart said without missing a beat. “Gabor and I will be patrolling the grounds tonight. Everyone under your roof can rest easy.”
“If you would give me a moment to freshen up,” I told Master Philo, “I would like to join you in a patrol and become more acquainted with your men. I obviously have much to learn.” I bowed to the king. “Good night, Your Majesty. Rest well.” Then I spun on my heel and walked away before anyone could object.
Tears overwhelmed me the moment the washroom door was shut. I peeled off the ruined gloves and dress. I cut the laces of the corset with the stolen dagger. I sobbed, and was about to put my face in my hands when I saw the blood. It was under my nails, in the lines of my palms, splashed across the creases at my wrists. After turning on the faucet, I grabbed the bar of soap, and began to scrub. The water ran red, then pink. Even after it began to run clear, I kept scrubbing.
I could still see the fear in Gosta’s eyes. I could still see the blood on his chin, his gushing wound. Perhaps he had deserved to die. I had wanted to kill him the night my town had been overrun. But he had still been a person. What authority did I have to take a human life? A graduation plaque from a warrior’s academy? The king’s ring? Suddenly, they meant nothing to me. I felt wrong, changed, violated somehow.
I looked in the mirror, into the eyes of a killer. I hated General Halvar with a passion that consumed me, but I hated those eyes all the more. I used a little bit of soap and a towel to wash away the makeup, although my tears had done most of the work for me. Then I tore out of the wooden hoop skirt and my undergarments to bathe.
It’s over, I thought grimly. I can’t show weakness in front of Master Philo or the Defenders. I must be a professional if I am to be taken seriously. I must move on to the next task.
Once my body was clean, I braided my hair and hurried into my room to change.
I descended the stairs wearing a brown coat over a white shirt with trousers and my new sneaking boots. They squeaked when I walked, but that would change in time. I met Master Philo at the door.
“The king requests you return to your room and get a full night’s rest, my lady,” he said with a wrinkled brow.
“I respectfully decline.”
Master Philo shrugged. “As you wish. Where would you like to begin?”
“I need to visit the garrison first,” I said, reaching for the doorknob. Cool air met me once the door was opened. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the night.
“Yes, of course,” Master Philo said, following me out and then walking past me. “This way.”
We set out across the ward and around the spring.
“Can you walk me through your procedures?” I asked, keeping pace with him. “What are the guards’ schedules like?”
“As you can imagine, we have two shifts; one during the day and one at night. Guards are posted along both walls, in the towers along the hill’s incline, and in strategic places on the wards themselves.” He gestured to three guards we could see marching along the ward. “They trade places periodically so no one soldier is left pacing the same stretch of land for too long.”
I nodded. “It would keep them more alert to be on the move.”
“Yes, it was my belief as well.” Master Philo clasped his hands behind his back. “The guards that patrol the wards also check for documentation plaques every day and report any incidents between the counselors or royal families that might be suspicious. I have those reports in my office if you ever wish to see them.”
“Thank you. Samir said a plaque was being made for me?”
“Yes, my lady. It will be delivered to you tomorrow morning. Defenders’ plaques are smaller than the average, so they don’t get in the way during a scrimmage.”
“Again, thank you,” I said with a bow of my head.
Master Philo nodded to one of the guards posted outside the garrison, who opened the door for us. Men milled about, trading their swords for the ones on wooden racks, selecting new pieces of armor from enormous chests, plucking shields and bows off hooks on the wall, selecting new spears from barrels in the corner, experimentally swiping swords or axes through the air, muttering amongst themselves. Servants sat at grinding stones, sharpening swords and axes, or at tables, cleaning, waxing, and tending to dents in various pieces of armor. A lively fire cracked in an open hearth at the center of it all.
Upon seeing us enter the room, many saluted or stood at attention.
“Good evening, men,” Master Philo said.