Not knowing how to answer, I look over my shoulder to Slade, and Keg follows my gaze. “Ho there, Commander. Didn’t see you there. Sad to tell you, Gildy Locks outshines you.”
Slade shakes his head, the corner of his lips twitching. “I don’t disagree.”
“Oy, can you serve me?” a soldier in line asks, eyeing the spoon in Keg’s hand like he’s hungry enough to try to snatch it from his grasp.
The army’s cook pins the man with a look, wiping his free hand over his uniform, the leather as dark as his smooth black skin. “I can. I can also kick my foot right up your arse.”
“I missed you, Keg,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll catch up later, okay? I better get back to my fancy ass castle now.”
He serves the stew for the poor waiting soldier before he points the dripping spoon right at me. “Alright, fine. But next time I see you, I’m feeding you. Double helpings.”
“I’m not going to fight you on it. If anyone can make army slop taste good, it’s you.”
Keg’s brown eyes shine with satisfaction. “That’s right, girl. Don’t you forget it. The other cooks in this army try to sabotage me constantly. But someone won’t do a thing about it,” he says, looking perfectly serious as he glares at Lu.
She rolls her eyes and comes up to grab my arm. “Yeah, yeah. Cry your tears in the pot, Keg,” she tells him as we begin to walk away.
“I will!” he shouts. “How do you think I get it so salty?”
The soldiers in his line groan.
Laughing, we head toward the edge of camp, but right before we get there, a hawk dive-bombs us, and I don’t even notice it until it’s careening through the fog, coming right toward us.
I yelp in surprise, but Slade lifts his arm and the bird lands on it, talons perfectly placed between his spikes.
I blink in surprise and watch him stroke the hawk’s head and let it nip his fingers before he reaches down to the metal vial attached to its leg. When he does, my gaze zeroes in on it. “Wait, is that…” The question trails off as I recognize the golden bell insignia. “That’s a Highbell vial.” My eyes go wide. “This is a Highbell messenger hawk?”
He pops off the top to get the missive inside, his black eyes scanning over it while the large bird lifts a wing, burying its beak beneath like it’s scratching an itch.
“He didn’t tell you?” Lu asks, sidling up to me. “The commander has trained his hawks to intercept others. They’re smart and skilled enough to snap the vials right off the other birds’ legs. Then they bring the vials to the commander, he straps them on one of his hawks, making it look like it belongs to whatever kingdom he wants. In this case, Highbell. But instead of delivering messages, his spy birds know to bring every letter to the commander first.”
“Wow, that’s…pretty diabolical,” I say, though I can’t help but be impressed. “Wait, is that how you knew I’d sent a message to Midas?”
“Yep.” He finishes reading, passing it over to Lu, a grim look settling on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. Lu scans the letter before she hands it to me, and I frown at the words.
“The cold weather has gone from Highbell. Clear skies ahead.”
“Clear skies?” I ask in confusion. “Highbell never has clear skies. And the cold weather certainly never leaves. What does it mean?”
Slade takes it back from me, not at all seeming worried that he broke the wax seal. “I’m not sure yet. It’s in code. I’ll talk to the others about it.” Settling his dark gaze on me, I can tell that his mind is working. “I’ve got to get this hawk back to the cart so I can reseal the letter and send her on her way. You’ll be okay with Lu?”
“Yep.”
“Good. I’ll be returning to the castle as the king tomorrow afternoon. Meet me in the library at dusk? I’ll update you if Lu finds anything.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise.
Reaching up, he gently strokes a knuckle down my cheek. “Good. I’ll see you soon.”
I have to suppress the urge to lean in and kiss him. He probably showed too much affection as it is, even though the fog shrouds us beneath the dark night sky.
“Lu, be careful.”
“Always, Commander.”
With one last look at me, he turns and strides away, and I follow Lu, trying to fight the urge to turn around. Every step closer to Ranhold’s walls feels wrong, my ribbons coiling as tightly as my dread.