This place… it reminds me of days of old; of long, hard training and evenings spent in the company of fighting men, with good food and cold beer.
I catch snippets of conversation. Men talking about the usual things; fighting, swords, equipment, horses, women, finances, politics. Scars of war aside, my men are as content as they can be, considering what they’ve been through. The least I can do is ensure they’re the best paid soldiers in the empire.
As I step into the mess hall, the chatter dies. The men are seated at long wooden tables. Swords rest against benches in well-worn plain leather scabbards. Myrnim smoke drifts through the air, mingling with metal and sweat and leather and the aromas of the food.
These men have known me for years. They’ve fought alongside me in the Northern War.
They’re tough, loyal men. I should know. I’ve hand-picked each and every one of them. Some of them are family men; they’ve been given land near Sanzar where they’ve settled with their wives and children.
They’re sons. Fathers. Husbands.
The hardest bunch of bastards in the empire.
Now look at them. They all look like they’ve just seen a ghost.
“At ease, lads,” I drawl, hiding my vexation behind a wry smile. “I’m not here on account of anything official. Just catching up with an old friend. Listen up. This evening, we’ll do an old fashioned fight tournament in the great hall. No weapons, no armor. I want to see your best grappling and ground game. As always, striking is permitted. Winner gets five taelins and an open bar at the Cherry Blossom Tavern. Those who get knocked out in the early rounds are permitted to wager. You may take the afternoon off to rest and prepare.”
The tension dissipates. The men visibly relax. A few grin in anticipation.
The highborn officers of the Knights’ Academy would frown upon me for allowing gambling and drinking amongst the ranks, but they have very little experience in actual battle.
They don’t know what these men need.
The winters here are bitter and harsh.
Enough to drive a man insane if he doesn’t have an outlet.
“One more thing,” I add, catching sight of my friend across the room. He’s shaking his head in exasperation. “Kaithar is forbidden from participating.”
“About bloody time,” a grizzled old veteran called Timur cries. “Give someone else a shot at the title for once, you invincible bastard.”
Kaithar pretends to be upset. “Have I done something to offend you, Your Highness?”
“Not recently. It’s just that if I let you join, you’ll spoil it for everyone else.” Slowly, I walk through the mess hall, passing the men.
Now more than ever, I need them to see that I’m the same old Corvan. Lord and commander. Soldier.
Empress Helia’s son.
The same as I ever was.
Even if I’m not.
I reach Kaithar. He’s sitting alone at the back of the room, tucking into a hearty meal of gravy-soaked lamb shanks and potato. “Don’t look so miserable, Kaith. You’d pulverize everyone. Besides, I need a referee—one that can pull the men into line if things get too heated. You’re the only one that can do it.”
“Corvan.” Kaithar stabs his fork into a large chunk of meat and puts it in his mouth. “Since when have you decided to stop being a miserable recluse and show your face in polite company again?”
“Polite company?” I chuckle. “Is that what you’re going around calling yourself these days?”
“We’re the Archduke of Tyron’s Elite Guard. We’re allowed to behave like gentlemen when it suits us.” He speaks while chewing, relishing his food. I almost envy him. “So? How’s your bride-to-be?”
“Finley Solisar is fine,” I say mildly, concealing the sudden rush of heat that arrives with the mere mention of her name. “Did you get anything out of her father?”
“Nothing but threats and vitriol. Apparently, there’s no way your daddy’s going to stand for such reprehensible treatment of a member of the nobility. Code of the Noblesse and all that.”
“He really does put a lot of faith in my father.” I take a seat across from him.
“Well, these minor nobles get funny ideas sometimes. We haven’t tortured him yet. I was waiting for you.”
“I’ll pay him a visit soon enough.”
“I don’t think he’ll hold out for long. Doesn’t seem the type. You probably shouldn’t kill him, though.”
“I won’t. Finley asked me not to.”
“Since when has a single request stopped you from killing anybody? Ah, Corvan. Don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to her. You, the ice-cold bastard who turns down all the legendary beauties in Rahava?”
“She is…” I pause, remembering her bright gaze upon me; her quick, sharp mind. She didn’t recoil in fear when I told her what I was. “She’s interesting.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that, you know. I was starting to worry about you.”
I can see her face in my mind’s eye; delicate features, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones. Framed with lustrous tendrils of dark brown hair. “She must be important, because someone in Lukiria didn’t want for us to meet.”
“You think all that bloodshed around her arrival wasn’t a coincidence? The lycans? The brigands?” Kaithar shakes his head slowly. “That’s a long bow to draw.”
“They tried to intercept a letter carried by a messenger hawk. It was from my father. Written in his hand and addressed to me only. Kyron found it on the body of one of the brigands.”
“Could’ve been a coincidence. Maybe he found it, or maybe they shot the bird down by accident.”
“I have far too many enemies in the palace for such a coincidence to occur.”
“Well, that’s true. But there isn’t much your enemies can do to you here. And she’s here now.” Kaithar shovels a forkful of potato into his mouth. The aroma of spices, meat, and rich gravy infused with wine fills my consciousness, but even though the food smells delicious, I’m not interested in eating at all.
Since the change, I’ve tried to eat normal food. The taste is pleasant, but not as good as I remember. And it does nothing for me. I don’t feel satiated at all.
The only thing that seems to truly satisfy my excruciating thirst is her.
She tasted of sweetness and light and the earth itself, and when she yielded to me for the briefest of moments, I felt like I’d transcended life and death.
“Hey, Corvan.”
I blink.
“You all right, there, Van?” Kaithar waves his fork around, looking slightly amused. “I’ve never seen you so distracted.”
“Just thinking.” I don’t tell him that Finley has indeed occupied my thoughts far too often. “Prepare the great hall. Lay down the mats and tell Gerent to arrange a banquet. The tourney will commence as soon as the sun sets. Once all is in place, all house staff are to relieved of their duties for the night so they can join in the festivities.”
“As you wish.” Kaithar gives me a long, appraising look. “The men will appreciate it.”
I shrug. “Consider it my version of the Midwinter Ball.”