Page 4 of The Scouts

The commander’s hazel eyes seemed to have taken on a darker hue in the candlelight, his braid shining copper. He pressed his index finger to his lips and remained silent.

We left him to his moment of reflection, waiting to be addressed.

Heinnés had a ruggedly handsome face with a square jawline. He emanated the air of a leader, inspiring instant trust—the kind of authority that soldiers followed on gut instinct without hesitation. Save for the queen’s consort, he counted amongst the best swordsmen in the land, and his devotion to the unit never wavered. Loyal, just and strict made for a good combination of traits in a commanding officer.

I’d liked Heinnés from our first encounter. Even though—as I’d learned on my own skin—he lacked a sense of humour to a painful degree. Painful for his subordinates who thought it a grand idea to dick around, in particular. As the evening unfolded, however, my fondness for him underwent a severe test.

Just as the prolonged pause began turning notable and uncomfortable, Heinnés shifted in his seat and rubbed his neck.

Something about the commander’s demeanour alarmed me. He offered me little eye contact while studying Lochan with a puckered brow.

Sensing Lochan tense beside me increased my edginess all the more.

Heinnés reached for a bottle of mead. Droplets of the amber liquid splashed about when he poured a generous measure into each of the three ceramic cups lined up on his desk.

My eyebrows rose at this highly irregular treatment.

Invited by the commander’s hand motion and following his example, we lifted the cups to take a sip.

“We’ve got a development,” Heinnés said in a gruff tone. “I know what the baroness is after.”

My sense of foreboding intensified. “Sir?”

Heinnés sighed. “There’s no good way to say it.” He took a long drink and sighed once more.

Lochan and I exchanged a fleeting glance at this bizarre stalling.

The commander’s lips formed a thin line. “She wants Féyes,” he finally announced, exaggerating every word.

I waited for the rest of the sentence, but it never arrived. Silence filled my ears. Finally, I had to speak. “She wants Féyes”—I gestured for Heinnés to elaborate—“to do what, sir? Dance her a jig? Carve her a figurine?”

When the commander finally fixed his attention on me, it came with a cautionary glare. “She wants his company for a night, Morryés. I leave the details to your imagination.”

My jaw dropped. Incredulous, I jerked my head towards Lochan as if he could explain this absurdity.

If I could ever refer to him as appearing lost and horror-struck, this was the time. At any other time, I would’ve thought the panic shining in his usually expressionless eyes hysterical. Only right then, nought about the situation seemed amusing.

I clamped down on my rising desire to rip something apart, settling for gripping the cup in my palm a little tighter. I trained my gaze back on Heinnés. “She what now?” The pitch of my voice lowered by an interval on the last two words.

The commander continued to rake me over with a hard stare. “You’ve heard me. Last time we spoke here, she spotted him from my window training in the courtyard. Wearing”—he cringed—“‘not very much’. Her words, not mine.”

However unfair and irrational the action, I couldn’t help but cast Lochan a look of reproach.

He offered me a helpless, barely perceptible shrug.

“Listen. According to the baroness, Sigrunés is holed up in the hideout of a top Magic Supremacist somewhere. She’s giving him to us like cream on milk, ready to be skimmed off. I’m not talking location only, but security details. The layout of the place. Getting the fucker will be like snatching a pretzel from a child. All of this for you, Féyes.” Heinnés leant forward, the unease pouring out of him almost tangible. “I’ve tried everything, but she won’t budge. That’s the trade-off.”

Sweet fucking gods almighty. Give me strength.

My throat closed off. “Why Lochan, sir?” I scraped out.

“Who knows? The woman’s well strange. Jaded and bitter. She said she enjoys collecting rarities. Whatever the hell that means.” The commander shook his head and regarded Lochan. “Wait. When I think about it now, she became truly insistent on the whole idea the moment she learned your family name. Isn’t the Countess of Riyön your aunt or something?”

“A second cousin, sir.” Lochan clipped out.

“Well, there you have it.” Heinnés reclined back in his chair.

Shit.