Suiden’s voice was mild. “So would I. Why don’t you get Trooper Jeffen?” He looked at me. “Until this is all settled, Jeffen is permanently assigned to you, to prevent any untoward incidents.”
Javes went to the door and opened it, shouting for Jeff.
A faint wince crossed Suiden’s face as he poured more tea.
“Nothing’s going to happen to Groskin either for blabbing, is it, sir?” I asked.
Suiden set his teapot down. “No. At least, not now.” He glanced at Javes as he came back into the room. “Rabbit just asked if Groskin would be disciplined.”
Javes sighed as he sat behind his desk. “Factions, Rabbit. Groskin is protected by strong church interests. Arch-doyen Obruesk has already written letters to everyone and their mother stating how he is ‘very uneasy about soldiers being subjected to magical influences.’ ”
Suiden nodded. “And Commander Loel has informed me that, as far as he was concerned, Groskin did not disobey a direct order but instead brought a dangerous situation to the attention of the appropriate people.” The captain’s eyes gleamed hard. “That too I’ve taken to the Lord Commander.”
I studied the rune on my palm. “Why, sirs?”
“Why is Groskin acting this way?” Suiden asked.
I nodded.
“The lieutenant was assigned to Veldecke before he came to Freston, and had some things happen there that he still hasn’t reconciled himself to,” Suiden replied.
I frowned, feeling like a pawn in a game where I didn’t know the rules. It gave me no comfort that Slevoic’s faction was strong enough to challenge the king.
“No, not challenge, Rabbit,” Suiden said. “At least, not this group. It’s a jockeying for position. A fight for the king’s ear, his favor, to stand at his right hand.”
The power behind the throne drama.
“Exactly,” Suiden replied.
“I wish you’d both stop that,” Javes said, looking at Suiden, then me. “I feel like a stepchild.”
“Rabbit thought that Lord Gherat Dru was a rival for the throne,” Suiden said.
“Good grief, no.” Javes’ eyes turned wolf yellow. “That would reave the kingdom apart and Gherat knows it. Besides, he doesn’t have near enough lines to the House of Iver.” He sighed again. “No, he’s a childhood friend run amok—Jusson and he were fostered together, and Gherat milks that for all it’s worth.” I blinked, thinking of the middle-aged Lord Treasurer and the king who looked only as old as me being childhood friends, and how no one seemed to notice how the king hadn’t aged. Or at least said anything about it.
“They attribute it to clean living and good blood,” Suiden said.
Javes thumped his desk. “Stop that. What are you saying now?” I opened my mouth to answer him but just then the door opened, and Jeff entered the room carrying a large silver tray piled high with white envelopes.
Suiden put down his cup, frowning. “What’s that?”
“Lieutenant Lord Rabbit’s mail, sir. It’s been arriving all morning.” Jeff placed the tray in front of the captain and then stood at attention. Javes joined him, staring down at the small mountain, as I rose from my chair and also approached Suiden’s desk.
Javes had been right. A king’s favor did do wonders for one’s social life. I picked up an envelope and pulled out a gilt-edged invitation to a dinner to be held that night. I laid it down and picked up another; it was an invitation to a luncheon—“What’s ‘alfresco’?”
“Outdoors,” Javes said, reading over my shoulder.
“Oh, a picnic, then.” I laid that one down and next read invitations to a ball, two soirees, three routs, another ball, a couple of boating expeditions, several afternoon teas, musicales, masques, more dinners—I gasped and dropped the invitation I’d just opened. Javes picked it up.
“ ‘Lord Kaspero and Lady Mael of Surask beg the pleasure of your presence at the presentation of their daughter, Nestae eso Surask.’ Oh, I say, Rabbit. Your very first coming out ball. How exciting.” A feeling of being hunted stole between my shoulder blades.
Suiden, still frowning, also stared at the mail. “How in the world are we going to sort through this? I’ve been away too long and have no idea who we should embrace and who we should avoid like the pox.” Javes waved the debutante invitation. “And all those matchmaking mamas circling like sharks smelling blood in the water.” He did his silly ass smile. “Can you dance, my lord?”
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I thought of trying to maneuver through some complicated step while making small talk with a powdered, jeweled and coifed debutante with her mother looking on, planning the demise of my bachelorhood. “No, sir!” My palm burned and I added, “Except for the Festival dances, sir!”
“Stop scaring him,” Suiden said, “and help me think of a way to sort through this mess.”
“What about the king, sir?” Jeff asked.
We turned and looked at him, and his face flushed.
“The king, trooper?” Suiden asked.
“Couldn’t you ask for his advice? I mean, as the king calls Rabbit cousin and all—” We continued to stare as he trailed off.
“What have you heard, Jeff?” Javes asked, his voice soft.
“It’s in the mess, sir. How the king welcomed Rabbit home and then spent over an hour with him, and how he knows all about the mark on Rabbit’s hand, sir.” Jeff rightly interpreted the look on both captains’ faces. “I didn’t tell them, sirs. In fact, I didn’t even know that the king knew.” He did his own frown. “Rabbit never tells me anything.”
The two captains were silent. “You know,” Suiden finally said, “if the army collected intelligence this well all the time, we’d never lose a battle.”
“Well, I’ll be f—a fool,” I said. “The troopers were toadying me.”
“And I bet you just sucked it up, milord,” Jeff muttered.
“Oh, sod you and your horse—”
“That is enough,” Suiden said as Javes looked intently out the window, his mouth twitching. “I’m not in the mood for nursery quarrels. Keep it up and I’ll assign both of you to Groomer Hedley when we return to Freston. Indefinitely.” Suiden stood up and another faint wince crossed his face. “However, you did make an excellent suggestion, Jeffen. We will ask King Jusson for help and hopefully he’ll send someone who can guide us through all this—”
A soldier tapped on the open door. In his hands was a silver tray piled high with white envelopes. “I’m sorry, sirs, but this was just delivered.”
Chapter Thirty-three
With Suiden’s threat hanging over our heads, Jeff and I once more declared a trace and sat out in the courtyard (after checking for spiders) on my favorite bench under the pomegranate tree. Springtime was a soft lover in Freston, stealing over the mountains with a gentle touch. In Iversly it was a riot with mobs and looting, and the courtyard droned as the birds fought the bees over the flower petals. I watched the skirmishes as Jeff told me how Groskin stood like an old-fashioned revivalist in the troopers’ mess, preaching doom and gloom—and with Slevoic behind the lieutenant the whole time, nodding, his blue eyes gleaming.
“Groskin said that the cat had bespelled you and now both of you were turning everyone into beasts, and that the Border will soon swoop down and enslave everyone until we all forget that we were once human,” Jeff said.
“That’s stupid, Jeff. The Border has already proved that it doesn’t need to turn us into anything in order to wipe us out.” Several bright butterflies fluttered by our bench to join the flower melee, and one landed on my knee. Its wings slowly folded and unfolded.