The Cadet of Tildor (7 page)

CHAPTER 9

L
ightning ripped through the early autumn sky, startling clouds into a downpour. Alec snatched the half-finished mapping assignment from Renee’s hands and tucked it into his tunic. “Figures.”

Renee shielded her face. “We can still memorize the pace count.” Daylight had dimmed behind the clouds, and night approached swiftly through the rain.

Alec took her shoulders and turned them toward the main Academy grounds. “We’ll finish it tomorrow. It isn’t as if either of us has Queen’s Day plans.” He sighed. “That’s it, isn’t it. That’s what’s spurring today’s masochism?”

Renee shrugged. Queen’s Day was for family, and even the Academy suspended classes to welcome parents onto its grounds. Not Lord Tamath de Winter, of course, but he had been absent for three years anyway. It was for the better. She didn’t need Savoy informing her lord father that all the failures he assigned to his daughter were, in fact, accurate. And her mother . . .

Alec squeezed her arm. His own family never came to Queen’s Day, his grandmother being too old for the trip and his mother estranged since his birth. The situation seemed to bother him little, however, as, poking her shoulder, Alec offered up his miracle solution to most of life’s issues. “Let’s eat.”

Despite having rolled her eyes, Renee found that a bowl of hot porridge did improve her spirits, enough even that after returning to her room and hanging damp clothes up to dry, she could ask Sasha’s plans without fighting a hitch in her own voice.

“Palace.” Sasha, who saw no reason to pull her nose out of the thick volume weighing down her desk, traced her finger down the page. “I’m going to tell Lys he’s an idiot.”

“Some Servant you are.”

“As a Servant, I enforce his laws.” Sasha tapped a line and picked up a pen. “As his cousin, I tell him he’s an idiot. And tomorrow, I’m his cousin.” She scratched out a note and looked up, her face flushed. “Do you know what he did when the Vipers burned down that registration post? He denied audience to the Madam’s emissary and turned the arrest decrees into death warrants. That’s . . . that’s like lighting a match in a barn full of straw, Renee! Walks around like a rooster now, saying he won’t bow his head to criminals.”

The liberties Sasha took in discussing the Crown, though only in private, made Renee blanch even after years of exposure. “My father
pays
the Family to leave his wagons alone,” Renee offered. “The price grows each year. You think that’s better?” She fell back on her bed.

“Victory in war does not come from fighting battles. It comes from winning them.” Sasha tapped her book. “Lys’s just fighting. And you think that’s great because you like the cause. And I think the Crown is about to get a bloody nose or worse!” She paused for breath and blinked, rubbing her forehead. “Speaking of tomorrow, I near forgot to ask . . . Would you be my Queen’s Day dinner bodyguard?”

Renee raised her brows. The Palace Guard was responsible for palace security and hated outside interference, especially from the military. “The Palace Guard will never permit it.” She could already see Fisker’s face darken at seeing a cadet interfere with his work. “And why bodyguards at a family dinner to begin with?”

“A compromise. With the recent unrest, the guard captain wanted extra palace security in the dining room and Lys didn’t. They finally agreed that Fisker’s team will remain outside and each guest will choose his own bodyguard to bring inside. I asked that you be mine. If you don’t mind, of course—”

Renee vaulted up to hug her friend, not bothering to muffle a cry of glee. She was going on her first field assignment. In the
palace
. With the Crown himself in attendance. “Do you know who will stand behind King Lysian?” she asked upon reclaiming some semblance of dignity.

“Last I heard . . . ” Sasha made a show of rubbing her lip in thought. “Who was it? Oh. Right. Servant Commander Korish Savoy.” She smiled. “He wanted you to come see him tomorrow. You two are the only ones coming from the Academy.”

“The only ones?” Renee echoed, licking her lips. The only ones. Just her and the commander of the Seventh.

Excitement roused Renee from bed before dawn the next morning. Her sword, sharpened and polished, hung on her hip. She ran her hand over the pommel, engraved with the crest of the de Winter estate. The sword had been intended for her brother, but Lord Tamath had gifted it to her back when he believed her capable of graduating, when he thought she’d grow as strong as Riley had once promised to be.

Still, it was her blade now, and together they were heading to their first real mission. Renee smiled. Her uniform was pressed. Her boots polished. And, despite her stomach’s rebellion at the thought of food, she was ready. She was not, however, suicidal, and thus confined herself to loitering outside Savoy’s quarters instead of waking him.

She was still there when a whirlwind of a boy in a nightshirt raced through the corridor and vaulted past her into the room.

“Korish!” Diam’s voice escaped into the hallway. “Korish! There’s someone under my bed.”

A pause. Renee held her breath.

The bed creaked. “Go kill it,” said Savoy.

“I don’t wanna kill anyone.”

A sigh. “Ask de Winter to do it. She clearly has no better activity for this hour of the morning. Guarding my room notwithstanding.”

Her cheeks heated. Taking the comment for invitation, Renee edged her way inside. With the furniture back in place, the quarters looked almost normal, except for the small boy curled at Savoy’s side.

“There’s somebody under my bed,” Diam informed Renee gravely, then turned back to his brother. “A page said Mother and Father couldn’t come today ’cause mercenaries aren’t allowed.”

Mercenaries?
Renee kept her face still. Soldiers for hire held little reputation for honor.

“Horse shit.” Savoy spoke to his brother but looked at her, daring a comment. When she made none, he extracted himself from the bed and tossed a blanket over Diam’s head. “They don’t come because they have a contract in the west, at the Devmani border, guarding a merchant caravan from unwelcome neighbors.”

“Why?” The wool muffled the question.

“Because a new king is an appetizing target.” He turned to Renee and sighed. “You’re attending this evening’s farce with me, aren’t you? All right. One—eat. Two—it’s Queen’s Day
dinner.
Early is good, this early is ridiculous. The day is yours until the second afternoon bell. I will meet you by the practice courts then. Three”—he pointed to a weapon standing beside his—“you will carry that blade and not the club you’ve strapped to your hip.”

Her heart sank. It was a junior sword, the kind carried by young cadets not strong enough to wield the real thing.

* * *

Half an hour before the appointed time, Renee pulled herself up on a practice court fence to await Savoy, who still spoke with parents and students. It was odd to hear his voice blending with dozens of others. Usually, when Savoy spoke, no one else did.

She stood to stretch her shoulders and froze. Walking beside two well-dressed nobles was her father. His gaze passed through her as if she were fog. She waited a few moments, but the group continued toward the main courtyard, quickly leaving the practice courts—and her—behind.

“Father!”

He walked on.

She called out again, starting toward him.

One of his associates pointed in her direction. Her father hesitated before turning. She slowed her step. This was her world, not his study.

They halted two spans from each other. Just two large steps, but it could have been a league. Renee didn’t expect hugs and smiles. Neither did she expect him to look as if he had swallowed a leech.

She bowed formally at the waist, like an officer. “My lord father. Gentlemen.”

Her father pursed his lip. “Cadet.”

One of his companions cleared his throat. “Forgive my manners, my lady, I did not know to expect you.” A smile spread over the man’s face as he turned back to her father. “Why, my lord Tamath, I believe I understand how you were able to secure passage onto these grounds. And why you insisted we come today.”

Understanding gripped her stomach. Her father wasn’t here to see her at all. He was here to call upon the administration, likely in an attempt to sell the estate’s crops. Lord Tamath had not so much as told his colleagues of Renee’s existence.

He scratched his mustache. “My time is spoken for today, Renee. I do not wish my presence to distract from your training.”

A chill settled over her.

The other of his companions, a short man with a trimmed goatee, rubbed a finger down the side of his pointy nose. “Tell me,” he said, peering toward the practice courts behind Renee, “is it true that they allow commoners to enroll?”

She bowed to him. “Yes, my lord. No distinction is permitted among Servants.”

He huffed. “Gods help me, Tamath, if the lady insists on playing soldier, why did you not simply purchase her a commission as befitting your station?”

Renee blinked. The man compared a purchased commission to an Academy education? A Servant
earned
her place. Not that the mustached tree trunk would value that. Very well. She would speak his language. “The two positions are not identical, my lord. Consider the Crown’s top advisors, for instance,” she said. “How many non-Servants do you see in their ranks?”

“You will use your . . . great knife . . . to cut a path to the Crown’s favor, my lady? Your strength must be scarcely matched.” He nodded at the junior sword Savoy had insisted she wear and chuckled. “Let us forgo today’s business, my lord Tamath, for your daughter’s grand plans will surely bring good fortune to our estates.”

Lady Renee knew better than to enter into spitting matches with idiot lords. Unfortunately, Cadet de Winter, who happened to inhabit the same body, could not hold back. “I believe one can do more to protect Tildor’s land by attaining a Servant’s post than by rubbing gold into criminals’ palms.” She turned her face toward her father. “Although I understand opinions on this matter differ.”

He slapped her.

Renee touched her tingling cheek, then made her hand drop away. It was her fault; she had gone too far. Now she struggled not to disgrace her uniform with tears. She felt the eyes on her, curious people waiting to see whether she would meekly accept the humiliation, or run off like a child, or start a scandal. Such things attracted an audience as surely as carcasses called to vultures. Tanil smiled from the safety of the crowd.

“Touch my cadet again, and I will break each one of your fingers,” said a quiet voice behind her. “One at a time.”

Renee swallowed as Savoy, in his midnight black instructor’s uniform, stepped up beside her. He stood motionless, but nothing could conceal the fury spilling from his gaze. Around them, spectators stopped pretending to be otherwise occupied and stared openly. His words repeated themselves in her mind. She was his cadet. He wasn’t her friend, he thought her weak, but he would stand beside her without asking what the quarrel was or how it came to be. Servants protected each other’s backs because sometimes, too often, there was no one else.

Renee’s father cleared his throat, indecision playing in his eyes. He was a good spokesman. Would he apologize that a trivial misunderstanding created such a disturbance? Or puff his chest in indignation? He squared his shoulders. “I apologize, young master. My daughter and I found a poor place for a family squabble.”

“Servant,” said Savoy.

“I beg pardon?”

“Servant.” Savoy crossed his arms. “The proper address is Servant or Commander, not master. You seem to have forgotten where you are, my lord.”

“Indeed.” Lord Tamath bowed just deep enough to avoid discourtesy. “My partners and I have business to attend to. Please do not let us impose on your time further. Renee, come along and guide us to the clerk.”

Savoy put his hands behind his back and shifted his weight just enough to give her freedom of movement.

She took a breath. “I am needed elsewhere, my lord. I will see you . . . ” She paused, stumbling on the words. If there had been any chance of regaining a welcome to her father’s estates, she had destroyed it. “I will see you at another time.”