"Common thieves is all they were, your grace."
Blayre and Rory sat stiffly in Captain Holt's office, while he briefed them on what had been discovered so far from the previous night's events. The captain's office was nothing like Lord Darach's study. Where the Blumore study gave off an air of well-used clutter, Captain Holt kept his office neat and bare of any decor - plain and orderly, much like the man himself. Fletcher had always said the man was likely to keel over if he discovered a trace of dust in the place.
"They didn't seem so common to me, begging your pardon Captain. They looked like they were dressed for the job." Blayre objected.
Holt rubbed at his graying temples, eyes closed as if to summon patience.
Blayre had never seen the man's feathers so ruffled as they had been the previous night when the guard had announced that she and Rory had arrived at the barracks, and that the Duke de Vihrea was seeking accommodations outside of the palace proper for thee night. The normally calm Captain of the Seekers seemed to have recovered himself, but Blayre couldn't miss his unusually wrinkled uniform shirt, and the wart look on his weathered face.
"I would have to agree, Captain. These 'thieves' as you call them, were prepared for the job. Either they were targeting myself and Seeker Blumore here, or we just happened to be a couple of well-dressed individuals in the wrong place at the wrong time." Rory's hands clasped and unclasped on the desk, as though he were going to strangle the next would-be assailant he came across.
"Forgive me, your Grace. I know you are concerned. . ."
"Concerned?" Rory drew himself up to his full seated height and Blayre was afraid he might leap from his seat to pounce on the unsuspecting Captain. She resisted the urge to put a quieting hand on his thigh which was so close that it nearly brushed her own.
"You'll forgive me if I am a little displeased with the results of the guard at the moment, Captain. I know they are not under your leadership so I will be speaking to the Captain of the City Guard personally once this meeting is adjourned." Rory was saying, all traces of his Islander accent completely wiped out. For all his misgivings regarding a royal life, Rory seemed to slip into his royal mask as seamlessly as the Cel feeding into the Southern Sea.
"Very well, your Grace. Can I be of assistance in any other way?"
"No, that will be all." Rory stood and Captain Holt rushed to stand while Rory made his exit. Belatedly, Blayre realized that she should as well. After spending so much time with Rory without the restraint of customs, it was difficult to get used to all the formalities associated with being around an heir to the throne.
"Seeker Blumore, I hope to see you again soon." A bit of the informal Duke Rorrick broke through with a crooked smirk.
"Of course, your grace." Blayre dipped her head, and then watched Rory walk away, with a stirring of wistfulness in her chest. As much as she had yearned to return to her old life, she felt a little bit empty, and the thought of eventually being sent on another low-level assignment left her with mixed feelings as Rory disappeared with the click of the office door.
"Seeker Blumore, now that his grace is gone, let us turn to the task at hand. While I do not fully approve of your leaving your Triad and therefore not completing the assignment yourself, I do understand that you had little choice in the matter." Holt glanced at the doorway, as if Rory might burst through again. Blayre somewhat hoped that he would.
"I confess that I was reluctant to leave my post, but recalled that preserving the Crown is the top priority for any servicemember, no matter the faction." She said pointedly.
"This is true. As it is, you are here, and it certainly would not be very effectual to send you back to Mountainvale at this point. Unless we receive word from Seeker's Ainslee and Fletcher requesting more assistance, you will remain here until your next assignment." Captain Holt, rotated a shoulder - he had a habit of doing that, Blayre had heard it was because of an old injury from his days in the field.
"I do have one question regarding your time with his Grace." Holt said, tapping a finger to his desk.
"Permission to ask, sir." A slight wave of nervousness roiled through her.
"It just seems odd to me, that of all of the capable guards likely present at Blumore, you and you alone were chosen to accompany Duke Rorrick. Don't get me wrong, Seeker, you are turning out to be one of our most talented at sniffing out the unmarked, but you're no guard."
Blayre swiped her tongue over dry lips, collecting herself. Holt couldnt know. There was no real evidence. Then doubts began to race through her mind - she should have anticipated this. Because really, on the outside it probably did look completely unconventional to have placed a relatively inexperienced Seeker in almost full responsibility for protecting a Crown her. But why would he suspect her Sense?
A Crown heir being hunted down by an assassin-mage.
An inexperienced seeker, with a hidden Sense that enabled her to sniff out the unmarked.
And she had proved her mettle when they were attacked by those thieves.
"Well, he did have a guard of sorts with him. Really more of a friend I suppose." She finally said. Blayre wondered what Ripley was doing now. He had to be almost in the capital by now, if not in the capital. Unless he had tracked them rather than just head down the main road to try his luck.
"And it seems that you and the Duke ran off from his friend - alone." Captain Holt raised a graying eyebrow, reminding Blayre of some kind of ruffled bird. "Seeker Blumore, it is none of my business what you do in your personal life, but I beg you to consider the implications of getting tangled up with royalty."
Blayre was utterly speechless - speechless and more relieved than she should have been given the accusation. But instead of becoming frozen with fear, she began to burn with anger. What he was implying - nothing of that sort had happened.
"I can assure you, Captain, that if my father and Ripley had thought an arsenal of guards was necessary, they would have assigned them. As it was, they deemed me fit for the job. I believe that his grace will share any details that he wishes with the Crown Guard, and I therefore I do not feel comfortable sharing with you the true nature of the danger he was in. If you will beg my pardon, sir."
Captain Holt's dark eyes were unreadable as he continued to tap his hand on the desk. "Very well, Seeker Blumore, I just do not want to see you go down the wrong path, after all the work you have put in."
"I thank you for your interest in my success, Captain." Blayre tried to keep the frost out of her voice. "In the meantime, sir, what would you have me do? I can certainly find ways to keep myself busy but I would rather be assigned to something in particular."
"Of course. You will not be idle. Condition yourself and assist with any of the trainees who need extra support. You may have today off, but Report to Sergeant Nuala tomorrow for further instruction. You are dismissed." And with that, Captain Holt was nose-deep into a pile of paperwork that she thought he had been eyeing longingly for the duration of their meeting.
"Good day, Captain." Blayre said, relieved to make an exit to the privacy of her quarters, but wishing Ainslee was around to lend an ear.
****
Sergeant Nuala had been one of Blayre's favorite instructors during her training days. The dark skinned woman was making marks on a clipboard with a fountain pen in hand, as Blayre approached. Shorter than Blayre, and built like a sturdy mountain pony, Nuala had to look up to meet the younger woman's eyes.
Nuala wrinkled her forehead in confusion "Blumore. What are you doing here?"
"Um, well, I was assigned by Captain Holt, Sergeant." Blayre shoved her hands in her pockets, "To assist you."
Nuala waved her pen-wielding hand, sending droplets of ink flying. "I know that. But why are you here, in the capital? You were on assignment to Mountainvale last I heard - which I of course want to hear all about - but when I'd found out that you returned without Seekers Fletcher and Ainslee, it certainly raised some questions." As if to enunciate this, one of Nuala's carefully manicured eyebrows raised.
Young Seekers-in-training, were filing in for their first class of the morning. "It's a bit of a long story. I can tell you know or we can discuss when your students are settled in.
Nuala grunted. "These are the upper level trainees, they won't need all that much guidance. Just a little push to get started for the day."
Blayre nodded, wondering why she was even there.
To keep me out of "trouble", I'm sure. Holt apparently doesn't need me running around doing noble things like protecting the royal line. Blayre determined that her reward for doing her due diligence was Nuala as a babysitter.
Once the trainees had been set to their task of jogging the perimeter of the training yard thrice around, Nuala climbed to sit on the top rung of the fence and motioned for Blayre to do the same. A small herd of horses grazed off in the distance, their occasional snorts and stomps drifting over to Nuala and Blayre.
"So what's eating you? That look on your face could boil water."
Blayre snorted, but didn't really know where to start, and despite the fact that they were now on equal ground, was not all that comfortable being so transparent with a former teacher whom she admired.
Nuala gave her a knowing look, "Speak freely, Blumore."
Blaye sighed, twirling the end of her braid with her fingers. A cluster of trainees ran past, stirring up dirt and chunks of grass. "The truth is, I don't know how much I should even say."
Nuala plucked a blade of grass from her uniform shirt, "Whatever you feel comfortable sharing, is fine with me, Seeker."
Blayre shifted where she sat, and told her mentor, how she had come upon an unknown man, who turned out to be Duke Rorrick, at the Three Archers Inn. She left out the part about following the flow of magic, and Ripley's magic. She had the evidence to incriminate him, but not without risking incrimination herself. They barely knew one another, but she got the impression he was the type to take an eye for an eye. The unmarked mage would take her down into the icy depths of the underworld with him without question.
When Blayre was finished, Nuala let out a whistle through the space in her teeth, "You did all that, and Holt gives you busy work. That man."
The trainees were breathless by now, most just about staggering past at an uneven pace. "How many laps did you say they should run?" Blayre asked.
"I didn't. Told them they could keep running till I said so." Nuala hopped off the fence, brushing grass and dirt from her pants.
Blayre grinned and followed suit, "You wicked creature."
****
The frost covered blades of grass crunched beneath Blayre's boots as she set up a target to practice on. It was shaped like an armored man, the bulls-eyes located in any area that might be vulnerable to an archer's arrow.
That done, she walked a good fifty yards away and lined herself up to the target. She drew back on the bowstring, anchoring her right thumb against her jaw then aimed - holding her breath - and released the arrow with a twang, whoosh, thump. And again: twang, whoosh, thump;Â Twang, whoosh, thump; until she had run out of arrows and the target-man was barbed in all the right places.
Blayre sensed Ripley's magic long before she saw or heard him. Early morning light filtered over the archery field leaving it saturated in sections of spring color. Blayre knocked her last arrow, "I hope you're staying clear!" She called, "Wouldn't want to have a mishap."
Ripley made no response, so she shot anyway, knowing full well that he was at least five feet back and to her left. It hit the dummy square in the chest. She hung her recurve bow on a hook and turned to him, hands in pockets. "You know you leak magic like a cracked glass?"
"Will you shut up." The unmarked mage hissed at her. He stood just under the archery shelter's roof, looking exceptionally out of place in a collared tunic, loosely tucked in to leather trousers.
Blayre just smirked, "Glad to see you made it back in one piece. I'm assuming you didn't come here to watch me target practice though, so spit it out."
Ripley seemed to simmer where he stood, she saw a fist clench and unclench, and felt a small burst of magic. "I actually came to thank you." He averted his blue-eyed gaze, "I was told you come here most mornings."
"It's peaceful." Blayre shrugged.
"You took good care of Rory, and I'm grateful. I wanted to return this." Looking exceptionally uncomfortable, he procured the crystal from his pocket and held it out to Blayre, palm up.
Tentatively, as if he were a dog that might bite her if she moved too quickly, she reached out and took the crystal from him. "I hoped you would recognize it." She said, rolling it between her fingers.
"I was livid at first." He shoved his hands back into his pockets. "But eventually I saw enough reason to believe that Rorrick wouldn't run off on a whim."
"Well, you're wrong about that - he would, and he did. And that was our saving grace. That we weren't at the Inn until late evening. When we returned, I felt something - off." Blayre began to walk toward the target dummy. Ripley followed stiffly behind her.
"Well, either way - thank you. I should be off."
"Off to where?" Blayre said, pressing a hand to the target and yanking back on the shaft of an arrow.
"Oh, to follow Rory around while he attends to his cousin the Crown Princess Briannon. She's planning a party in honor of her return." Ripley examined a fingernail. "I'm sure she's truly thrilled to have him back on Emarian soil."
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"
"Yes, lady seeker." Ripley shrugged again, "I'm not sure how I feel. I cannot tell if she resents his presence or not. She seems - too enthusiastic to have him back."
She tried not to dwell on the fact that he was actually confiding in her. "Too enthusiastic?" What does that even mean? Blayre thought, pulling another shaft from the target.
"False enthusiasm, as though she is putting on an act."
"I only remember Briannon and Rory having a positive relationship when he lived here previously." Blayre said. "He doesn't even want the throne, it's not as if he's a threat." She popped the last arrow from the target and gave her full quiver a pat.
"She may not know or believe that."
Blayre shook her head. "I still doubt it. The king is still alive, besides."
"It's my job as his friend to be concerned about these things. You don't have to agree of course. I did come for one other reason," he paused for effect.
Blayre raised her eyebrows; go on.
"He wishes to see you. Rory. You're to report to the library in the East Wing at noon-time."
Blayre's heart quickened. "And if I don't?"
Ripley just threw her an annoyed glance as he began to walk away. "You'll find what it's like to anger the duke, I suppose." She watched his back, his icy leaking magic drifting further and further from Blayre's Sense.
****
Blayre had been to the East Wing Library once before - when she was much younger. Fletcher, ever the instigator of mischief, had coerced her into a late night jaunt into the palace. They could have been expelled from the Academy, or worse. Trespassing into the Palace was not taken lightly, even if you were a trainee.
Though she'd been scared witless, she had been awed by the beauty of the large room with its high ceilings, heavy oaken furniture, and walls of books.
The crisp smell of ink and parchment enticed her senses as she was escorted into the room. Not much had changed. Two statues - one of the Moon Goddess and one of the Sun God, presided over the entrance and Blayre's boots made soft footfalls on wine-red carpet.
As she approached the red-headed man whom she had traveled with so recently, she couldn't help but notice the change in demeanor. He was Duke Rorrick Vihrea, second in line to the Crown, resplendent in a green and gold fitted tunic. Copper curls tumbled around his face as he leaned over a book laid out on the dark-stained wood of the table.
Blayre cleared her throat. "Your Grace. You summoned me."
Rory looked up then, and the amused glint in his eye told her that he was still the same carefree man she had met at the Three Archers.
"Seeker Blumore, what a pleasure to see a familiar face. Please, have a seat." He waved a hand across the table. Blayre stalked around the table and pulled the chair out, she sat, leaning forward as though ready to leap from the seat at a moment's notice.
"Where's Ripley?" She asked, glancing around - half expecting him to materialize from the shadow of a bookshelf despite the fact that she couldn't sense his magic.
"He had business in the city." Rory shrugged. "Are you hungry? I've ordered food to be brought to us."
Her stomach was in knots, but she nodded anyway, tracing a whirl in the grain of the oak.   "How has your return been?" Rory's questions were stilted, awkward. She wanted to go back to their days of traveling when all conversation had been so natural between them. Here in the Capital the reality of master and servant seemed to divide them like the Eastern Sea.
"Dull." Blayre answered bluntly. "Holt has me doing busywork until the remainder of my Triad returns."
"What would you say to a job in the meantime?" Rory leaned in, lowering his voice. "They are still insisting those thieves were common criminals."
"And you still think differently?"
"Don't you?" He raised an eyebrow, completely seeing through her pretenses at obstinacy.
The conversation was interrupted by a servant bringing in a tray of food - fruits and cheeses and bread. Rory thanked the girl with a quick smile. The girl blushed. Blayre resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Blayre shifted, watching as Rory selected food from the tray. When the girl had exited, she spoke. "What is it you ask of me? The Seekers aren't intended for private hire."
"Is it private hire if I'm part of the Crown Line?"
"It should still go through Captain Holt." Blayre didn't know why she was being so obstinate. She wanted to help him. She wanted to do something useful. And doing something like this was just a notch on the ladder to the top.
"You could do this in the meantime until your counterparts return. I can't promise it will be any less dull than what you're doing now. I'll speak to Holt about it. Once you receive a new assignment, you can abandon this one."
From Rory's tone, she could tell that when he said "speaking with him", he wouldn't be giving the Captain any choice. A brief flash of anger burst at the surface when she remembered what Holt thought had gone on between the two of them.
No matter. He was going to make assumptions regardless.
"Good, I'll settle it with Holt then." He glanced away, but not before Blayre noticed a look of unease flicker on his face. He looked back at her, all trace of the previous nervousness gone. "I had one more thing to ask of you - and if I'm being honest, I'm sorry to ask it of you."
Blayre's heart froze in her chest.
"My uncle, The King of Emares wishes to meet you."