“Good evening, sir!” they chorused.
“Lady Warrior,” many added with respectful bobs of their heads.
I nodded back before meandering over to a display of daggers, short swords, and scabbards. I selected a dagger and some throwing knives. When I found the one that felt best in the palm of my hand—a blade as long as my forearm—I strapped it to my thigh. The men made way for me as I approached the racks of swords. I belted on a beautiful piece of metal that was perfectly balanced and had a simple leather-bound hilt.
“Ready,” I said, finding my way back to Master Philo.
He gestured to the door and we exited together.
As we walked, he shot a concerned glance at me out of the corner of his eye. “I remember the first man I ever killed on the job. It doesn’t get any easier.”
“Are these supposed to be words of comfort?” I asked, bristling at the thought that I could be so transparent to someone who hardly knew me.
He smiled a gentle little smile. “I meant no offense, my lady. Just know that you’re not alone. Find a way to live with what you’ve done. The king needs us at our best.”
I nodded again, shoving my hands in my pockets.
We ambled down the steps to the lower ward, passing several servants carrying baskets of dirty laundry.
“I imagine you have many, many guards under your employ,” I said to disrupt the cloud of awkward silence. “Have you any assistants?”
The guard master scrunched his lips to the side. “I have one. Why do you ask?”
“I know another member of Dotharr’s anointed who is looking for employment,” I said with a shrug. “He was nominated for King’s Defender.”
Master Philo raised his eyebrows.
“He barely lost to me,” I added quickly. “He’s a good man, a great fighter, and a fiercely loyal friend. If you think you could use someone like that…”
“We can always use more men like that. I’ll send him an invitation for an interview.”
I thanked him yet again.
“Did you want to walk along this wall or visit the guards at the portcullis at the bottom of the hill?” he asked, gesturing to the gate up ahead.
I squared my shoulders. “Let’s start at the bottom and work our way up.”
It was perhaps three hours before dawn when I returned to the king’s home, carrying more scrolls. These were the patrol schedules for the next two months and lists of the names of every guard, counselor, servant, child, and royal family member on the grounds. I had a lot of studying to do, but I felt better prepared. Now, I would take an hour to study the scrolls and the designs in my bedroom before I napped. Then I would inquire about the king’s schedule and perhaps steal some bread from the kitchen.
Lennart and Gabor met me on the porch.
“We needed you well-rested to watch the king today,” Gabor grumbled. “How do you expect to do well when you—?”
I shoved the scrolls into his chest. “Hold these.”
He swore and scrambled to catch the parchment leaves that escaped.
I struck Lennart across the face. He must have anticipated the blow because he hardly stumbled.
Wiping the fresh blood from his lips, he regarded me with bored, half lidded eyes. “Was that necessary?”
“You knew about the general’s test. Don’t deny it. Defenders can’t afford to react so slowly when the king is threatened,” I said. “If you ever withhold pertinent information from me again, I will challenge you to a grappling match in front of all the guards on this hill and publically humiliate you. Do you understand me?”
Gabor sneered. “You should take her up on that offer and teach her a lesson in humility, Len.”
“How am I to discern what information would be pertinent to you?” Lennart asked with a shrewd smile. “I can’t very well convey every rumor and request I come across. You would be bored to tears.”
“How about this?” I hooked a thumb in Gabor’s direction. “Anything job-related that you’d tell this oaf can be shared with me as well.”
Gabor dropped my scrolls. “You watch your mouth! I’m not afraid to strike a woman.”
I rolled my eyes. “I graduated from warrior academy. I’ve been struck by a man before. That would hardly make you brave.”
Lennart raised a hand before Gabor could reply. “She’s right.” He bowed his head just slightly. “I apologize on behalf of myself and my colleague. Now that we know you’re serious, you will be treated with the same professionalism and respect as any other Defender.”
I doubted that very much but I thanked him nonetheless.
“Finley will be at your disposal this afternoon if you have any questions concerning your assignment,” Lennart went on to say. “Hemming will relieve you at midnight tonight. Good day to you.”
Gabor stomped on my scrolls as he left. “Happy studying.”
Lennart rolled his eyes at his friend before following him down the front steps and across the ward.
I suppressed a scream of frustration and bent to retrieve my scrolls. I walked into the house as quietly as possible and crept up the stairs. The portraits on the small table upstairs caught my eye again. I carefully laid down my scrolls and picked up one of the portraits. The woman in the painting had brown eyes and Torvald’s long, slender nose. On his face, the nose was proportionate. Unfortunately, it seemed rather large on her face. But in her eyes I could see the same fierce kindness Torvald had portrayed in the coliseum, and that made her stunningly beautiful. She had a mane of curly blond hair that cascaded down her shoulders, and bodacious curves. I assumed this was Torvald’s mother. She must have been mentioned in my history class once or twice but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name.
I returned the portrait to its proper place and ventured down the hall to deposit the scrolls in my bedroom. Then I crept over to the king’s side of the building. If there was ever a time for investigating the king, it was now while everyone was asleep. Torvald had his own drawing room, a library, a room filled with portraits, ceremonial weapons and armor, a music room, a closet larger than any I had ever seen, an office, and a washroom.
I searched every room thoroughly and found nothing to prove the king had a secret, malicious nature. There were no hidden rooms filled with tortured animals or maps with big red Xs on them. Nor were there jars of blood or a whore in chains. The desk drawers in his office were locked but I managed to get into them thanks to my lock-picking tools. I thumbed through the documents stored neatly in each file, finding accounts of the Quest for Resources. I also found accounts from the diplomats that had been sent with General Halvar.
There were pages upon pages detailing meetings with the mainland ambassadors, the occasional attack from a rebel group that wasn’t interested in negotiating trade, the amount of money being extracted from the royal treasury to pay for the militia’s living expenses, and trade route agreements, along with lists of items that were being sent to the island every few months. Each record was dated and signed by three different hands. I studied the handwriting, finding distinct differences. I shoved the pages back into their files with a snort of disgust. A portrait of the king shaking hands with a man with green eyes and formal attire sat on the desk’s surface. A signed note at the bottom of the portrait identified the man as an emissary from the mainland.
I uttered a harsh laugh.
Well, that answered my earlier question. Could the general be so smart and sneaky as to deceive his king completely and without suspicion? Yes, apparently he could be. But in order to pull off such a lie, he had to have help. The emissary for instance couldn’t possibly be who he said he was. Perhaps he was a hired actor from Holger? An old friend of the general’s willing to do him a favor? Or perhaps he was a captive from the mainland, too terrified not to obey the general’s commands.