“’Cause, you know, it was a special mission and we lost them, but you were in charge and…”
Every time Reiter saw her, her eyes were paler than he remembered. Here and now, they truly seemed more silver than gray. The barest gleam of color between the white and black. When Chard’s voice trailed off, finally realizing no one was listening, he said, “So, what’s going on here?”
“This is my…uh, sister and her…uh, husband. Yeah. They’re uh, they’re here for the festival.”
Reiter reluctantly turned his attention back to Chard. “You don’t have a sister. You have two brothers. Try again.”
“He’s trying to convince us to leave,” Mirian said quietly, the words running together.
“He should have called every soldier in this square over here to help take you back into custody,” Reiter said at the same volume, gaze still locked on Chard’s face.
“It wouldn’t have helped.” She sounded entirely matter-of-fact.
Reiter remembered the circle of trees and almost smiled. “I suppose not.”
Chard opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then to Reiter’s surprise said, “It’s not right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“And you can’t make me…What?”
“Have you told Private Chard why you’re here?” She was here to free the mages because she sure as shit wasn’t here to give herself up to any prophecy. Chard opened his mouth, confused, but Reiter raised a hand, giving Mirian room to answer.
“No.”
He almost smiled again at the way she made one word, two letters, sound like a challenge. “Chard, go away.”
“But, Cap…”
“Private, this is not something you want to be involved in. This is not something you want to be interrogated about, and every moment you spend talking to us brings you a moment closer to shit you do not want to be in.”
“Yeah, I get that, Cap, and I’m getting that you know what’s going on more than me, and I’m fucking thrilled you showed up, and I’m good with walking away and letting you deal because…”
“Chard. Get to the point.”
Chard, who was squinting toward the square, swallowed and nodded past Reiter’s shoulder. “Lieutenant Geurin’s coming this way.”
“He’s never seen me,” Mirian began.
“He hasn’t,” Reiter agreed. “But he’s one of the few people in Karis who might be able to see what Tomas is, and that’s as bad.”
Mirian’s lips pulled back off her teeth. “Worse.”
Reiter turned. Lieutenant Lord Geurin’s uniform had been draped in enough braid that anyone who hadn’t been forced to endure court dress might mistake it. The plume in his bicorn was as high as regulation allowed and absurdly poofy. He’d recently been shaved and his narrow mustache looked like a dark line on his upper lip. He was, at the moment, the most dangerous man in the square.
“I see you finally made it back to the capital, Captain, although I hear you failed in your mission. My uncle seems to think he’s seen you around the court, but given the…inexpensive uniform you’re wearing, he must be mistaken.” His smile was as self-satisfied as it had ever been. His gaze flicked past Reiter, over Chard, and paused on Mirian…
At the last instant, Reiter managed to lay off enough that he didn’t break the lieutenant’s jaw. Or his own hand.
Geurin dropped like he’d had his strings cut. His mouth opened and closed but no sound emerged. His hat spun away, the plume bent.
“You punched him, Cap!”
“I did.” The soldiers by the meat pie cart had already noticed. Another minute and they’d be on their way over. “And when they ask you why, tell them I said Major Meritin informed me of what the lieutenant wrote in his report.”
“What did he write?”
“I have no idea, but I’m certain it was self-serving and puerile.”
“He’s going to be mad you hit him.”
“I’m a captain, he’s a lieutenant.”
“He’s a lord.”
Reiter smiled tightly. “Tell him to take it up with the Duke of Burron. And now, I’m going to take my sister and her new husband to the inn where they’ll be staying.”
Chard shoved his hands in his pockets and squinted down at the lieutenant. “Yeah, I’d have hit him, too, if he’d said that to me in front of my sister. If I had one.”
“Thank you, Chard.”
He shrugged and grinned, but he met Reiter’s gaze squarely, and something in his face said he knew exactly what he’d been thanked for. “It’s okay. No one likes him.”
Her hand still on Tomas’ arm, Mirian remained silent until they were far enough from Chard and the group of soldiers gathering around the fallen lieutenant they wouldn’t be overheard. “Why?”
Reiter, walking on Tomas’ other side, a shield against the curious, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why did he interfere? Why was he helping them? Why was he committing treason…again? “One of the mages was killed,” he said at last. “I was there.”
“And you did nothing to stop it,” Tomas growled.
He’d accused himself of that more than once, so he had an answer ready. “I couldn’t have stopped it. At best, I’d have died with her, and that won’t help the rest.”
“Who?” Mirian asked and Reiter heard a similar self-accusation in her voice. Why wasn’t I here in time to stop it?
“You couldn’t have stopped it either,” he said. “Her name was Kirstin. Small, dark-haired, blue flecks.”
“Kirstin Yerick. Her husband was one of the Pack Leader’s advisers. She has twin sons. Had.” Tomas’ response had a soldier’s rhythm. Superiors didn’t want emotion in reports. “And Danika?”
“Danika is…alive.” He remembered the dagger drawing a gaping red line across pale flesh, her expression when she threw Kirstin’s choice at the emperor. “Uninjured.”
Tomas actually stumbled, his breathing suddenly ragged.
Danika was family. That explained why Tomas was here.
“Captain, how did Kirstin die? Why did she die?”
“She died because the emperor is…insane.” Saying it out loud made it real. Explained why he was here. “I’m not going to tell you how.”
He could feel Mirian leaning around the boy to stare at the side of his face. He expected a protest. He didn’t get one.
They left the square and started down a narrow street between a wine shop and a tavern, the tavern’s patio extending far enough to mask them from prying eyes, but offering no cover should anyone try to overhear their conversation. Reiter didn’t expect to be followed—Chard was right, no one liked Geurin—but this wasn’t the time to take chances. “I have a question for you now.” He moved out into the street just far enough for him to be able to look Mirian in the face. “As stupidly suicidal as it is, it’s obvious he’s here for family. Why are you?”
She stared at him for a long moment. Made longer by the danger they were in. Finally she said, “Someone had to do something, and I was there.”
“That’s it?” Reiter knew that tone. He’d heard it from young soldiers who suddenly found themselves called heroes because they were the last man standing. And every one of them—the ones who didn’t brag and bluster and accept the accolades as their due—was a soldier he wanted to have at his side. “You’re a mage.”
“You’ve known that since we…” Her lip curled. “…met.”
Tomas growled low in his throat.
“Unless you’re planning to get her killed,” Reiter snapped, “stop it.”
The boy’s back straightened as he went silent. Definitely military. Good. If he could be convinced to follow orders, the odds he’d survive this madness went up.
“Powerful?” Reiter’d seen what she’d done in Abyek. Seen a man burn where he stood. He knew she was powerful, but he was curious about what she’d say.