The Knight and the Moth (The Stonewater Kingdom, #1)(14)

“‘Green around the gills’ is the proper expression.” I peered over his shoulder. “Are the king and his knights still here?”

“Unfortunately, yes. They are partaking in breakfast.”

“Good.”

I left him on the path, my fingers wrapped around the hammer and chisel, hurrying to find the foulest knight in all of Traum.





It was still the breakfast hour, and the commons door was open. Strewn about in clusters, knights ate off tin plates. Many were already clad in armor. Or perhaps they’d never shed it.

One knight choked on a mouthful of rye bread as I approached. He elbowed the man next to him, the word Diviner a searing whisper on the breeze.

Heads turned—conversations halted.

I surveyed the crowd, frowned, then pushed into the commons.

There were more knights inside, seated at the tables or standing in a crooked line at the counters fixed with food. A few lingered by the hearth, but none near the feline gargoyle with human hands who cooked the food over the fire.

I sliced my gaze across the room. One of the wooden tables had been moved to the far side of the commons. At it, seated between Maude and the king, mouth turning in a sneer that was growing more familiar by the second—

Rodrick Myndacious. That boar.

I drew air into my nostrils and marched forward.

King Castor saw me coming, his porridge spoon halting halfway to his mouth. Maude’s brows shot into her hairline. “Did someone call for a Diviner?”

“Pardon the intrusion, King Castor,” I said, steeling myself. “I need a favor.”

“Oh—of course.” The king wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled toothily, like a nervous dog. “What can I do for you, Diviner?”

“Not you, Your Majesty.” I pointed my chisel at Rory’s chest. “Him.”

The bastard didn’t bother lifting his gaze from his breakfast. “Awful demanding this morning, Number Six.” When he noted my tools, Rory bit the inside of his cheek. “I see you’re armed.”

He’d drawn fresh charcoal around his eyes and secured his black hair with a strip of leather. His clothes were clean, and there was even a whit of warmth in his cheeks. Daylight, and an obvious bath, had made a new man of him.

I had the rousing vision of crashing my hammer onto his skull.

“What you inferred after you gave me idleweed,” I said. “About me knowing nothing of Traum. Of fun. I’d like you to remedy that.”

The king hacked out a cough. “You gave her your idleweed? Isn’t that some sort of—I don’t know.” He continued to cough. “Sacrilege?”

“You dolt.” Maude reached behind Rory and smacked King Castor’s back until he stopped hacking. “Diviners can drink and smoke and fuck just like anyone else.”

An errant knight from another table chuckled—then pretended he, too, was in the throes of a coughing fit the moment he locked eyes with Rory.

I stared at the trio. Maude calling him dolt, Rory christening him Benji. These knights were closer to the king than mere soldiers, despite the age disparity between them—Benji boyish, Rory a young man, and Maude at least ten years older than he was. They were intrepid, somehow. Conspiratorial, all in a row on their side of the table against me, alone on mine.

“Fun,” Rory deadpanned, tapping his spoon on the table. “What did you have in mind?”

I looked over my shoulder. Lowered my voice. “I want you to escort the Diviners off the tor for the evening.”

The king’s eyes widened, and so did Maude’s. But Rory—he just kept tapping his spoon, chipping away the veneer of my patience. “Be your escort.”

“That’s what I said.”

He shrugged. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Just that.” He smiled. “You might have ridden other deferential knights hard and put them away wet—but I’m no one’s errand boy. Besides, we leave for Coulson Faire in an hour.”

The king went red, and Maude scrubbed a hand down her face. I heard a thump under the table, and Rory winced. “What he means, Diviner,” she said, “with the utmost respect, is we cannot oblige you. Every new king must visit the hamlets when his reign begins. There are ceremonies to attend. We are due at Castle Luricht this afternoon.”

I didn’t know much about Traum or its hamlets—but in this instance, I knew just enough. “Castle Luricht is within Coulson Faire and hardly any distance away. Your knights could easily make it back here by evening.”

Maude did not deny it. “I was under the impression it was forbidden for Diviners to leave Aisling Cathedral during their service.”

“It is also forbidden for anyone save the abbess, a gargoyle, or a Diviner to touch Aisling’s spring water. The same spring water I smelled here in the commons last night. When I ran into you three.”

Not a subtle accusation.

The king, Maude, Rory—they’d taken water from Aisling’s spring and didn’t want anyone to know. And while the why irked me, it was insubstantial to the what I could do with the information.

Blackmail, for instance.

My fingers danced along the necks of my hammer and chisel. “Do this for me, and I will forget to tell the gargoyles, who are known to be quite violent, mind you, that I ever saw that flagon of spring water.”