Page 26 of The Scouts
The queen said something in Northern to her swordmasters. When they picked up Sigrunés like a sack of potatoes and walked off with him towards the main building, she turned to the Mage. “Proceed inside, Master Ÿruuki. I’ll join you in a moment. Feel free to start working him over.”
The Mage bowed, threw back his wide sleeves and smirked before striding off.
Whatever said work involved, that cold grimace of his sent shivers down my spine.
Her Grace cocked her head to one side, regarding us standing aligned in a two-line formation. She must’ve found the sight pleasing because her face creased into a smile. “Good job, men,” she said. “Stand at ease.”
As if carrying out an impromptu inspection of our ranks, the queen strolled in front of us, Heinnés on her right.
We all had met the queen several times on previous occasions. And she knew every one of our lot by name, clan and skill set. After all, it had been the royal approval that confirmed each soldier’s appointment to our elite unit and Her Grace had always taken a close interest in us.
Lochan stood next to me, the last one in the first row. He surprised me by taking a knee on the queen’s approach.
“With Your Grace’s permission,” he said softly, his right fist on his heart.
The queen came to a halt. “Granted.”
Lochan reached inside his jerkin and presented a parchment in his open palm. The corner of my eye registered a green wax seal on a gold ribbon.
Green and gold—the colours of Ine Laeyés.
Interesting that Lochan had agreed to play secret messenger for the baroness.
A muscle twitched in the queen’s cheek. After a long pause, she picked up the letter and slipped it into her uniform pocket.
“Rise,” she ordered, and when Lochan did, she stepped closer. Her gloved hand fleetingly touched his cheek. “You look so much like Morrã. Such a rare beauty, she was. And a fearless warrior.” She shook her head as if trying to repel painful memories.
No wonder. The battle of Fhêrradyn had been a brilliant victory that had won us the war. But it hadn’t come without staggering losses on the Elven side, the life of Lochan’s mother included.
The queen kept her gaze fixed on Lochan. “Your eyes, though? They are Lu Feninghan’s, no question about it.” Her mouth quirked. “Thank you.”
With that, she moved away to address the unit. “Scouts, make the best out of your stay in the capital. It won’t be long before I send you elsewhere.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we shouted in unison. “Glory be to the queen.”
“It’s a wonder glory doesn’t come out of my arse,” the queen murmured and gestured to Heinnés. “Walk with me, Lazlo. Let’s chat about your Mage allocation on the way.”
The commander bowed his head and threw our way, “Men, get accommodated. Cause no trouble, or there’ll be broken bones. I’ll brief you afterwards.”
* * *
LOCHAN
We barely managed to find our room and set down the saddlebags when a tall Dark Elf in an archer’s uniform burst through the door we’d left ajar. If not for the raven hair, he resembled Ervyn a frightening deal. He grinned from ear-to-ear in a way that threatened the integrity of his face.
“Fucking hell. They said you lot had arrived,” Verhan panted and launched himself at Ervyn.
The two hugged as if intending on squeezing the life out of each other. They laughed, intermittently switching between clutching each other and slapping one another’s backs like frolicking young bears. All while chattering in the Mountain Dialect at a dizzying tempo. One would’ve thought they were paid by the word.
Their gabbling became way too rapid for me to keep track of the entire conversation, but I got the gist of the banter. Even though the mutual ribbing hardly ever ceased, I couldn’t fail to miss the connection and easy closeness between them.
A swirl of tenderness rose in my chest at the sight. Before that unexpected reaction could cause me worry, it turned into droll amusement. Verhan called Ervyn a desiccated cougar turd for not replying to his last letter. Ervyn supplied a flimsy excuse, which Verhan—if I got the phrase correctly—deemed a load of wank.
Verhan then approached me.
Somehow, I found myself exchanging a forearm clasp and a shoulder bump with him in the way of greeting. The fact that I’d gone and done it and felt unbothered by the contact took me aback. To restore my internal balance, I frowned at him.
“Aw, still with the glowering, eh? Don’t be like that, Lochan. We’re practically clansmen now,” Verhan said in Common Elven and winked at me. At that moment, he looked so much like Ervyn, I did a double-take. “Not a bad thing, either, being on an assassin’s family list,” he said, referencing the Guild’s Code that excluded the sworn brothers’ loved ones and those of their blood from potential contracts.
