Page 67 of Traitor Son

“Tell him what happened to that mason last year,” said Huber flatly. “The one that decided to get drunk and take a walk outside the north gate.”

“That was a wolf demon, wasn’t it?” Bram tossed a bone into the bowl in the center of the table. “All but gutted the poor bastard, I’d sooner a pack of ghouls got me, at least they can’t take my leg off with the first bi—”

“Rem,” Miche said sharply, and Remin glanced over to find the blond knight radiating extreme displeasure, his eyes flicking pointedly at the princess, who was listening to the talk with round, horrified eyes.

“Excuse me,” Rem said abruptly, taking her elbow. She’d barely done more than pick at her supper anyway, and she didn’t need to be sitting in on their councils. “Come with me, Princess. Edemir, send word to the night watch. They need to be warned. I’ll be back.”

The pools of torchlight lining the path outside hadn’t seemed so insubstantial in quite some time. Last year, their defenses had been fewer, but they had also been a much smaller target. The Andelin devils only came out after nightfall, and Remin’s men were wary and disciplined. It was almost worse this year. They were a sprawling settlement of hundreds of craftsmen, journeymen, and apprentices, many of them sleeping in tents, and folk wandering about in the dark like it was a summer festival.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said as he ducked into the cottage behind the princess, bending his head under the rafters. Sometimes he felt like he lived half his life in a crouch. “Don’t go outside, for any reason.”

“Do Yvain and Dol know?” she asked, looking at the window nervously. “If a wolf demon can bite off a leg, couldn’t it come through the wall? And surely the folk in Ferrede have shutters on their windows, how did—”

Ah. This was why Miche had been glaring.

“My guards know what to look for,” he interrupted, before she finished that thought. She needed to know the danger just as much as Sousten Didion, but there was nothing to be gained from terrifying her. “We’ve been dealing with them for three years. Go to sleep. I’ll be late tonight.”

“Oh, but…” She caught his sleeve. Her eyes were enormous, shining gold in the lamplight and so vulnerable that he had to look quickly away. “Couldn’t you just…I—I know you must…”

Her fingers slipped from his sleeve.

“At least warn the stableboys,” she said, her head bowing. “Eugene isn’t as big as a horse, and he’s old, and he doesn’t even have a proper door on his stall…”

“You’re worried about the donkey,” Remin said incredulously.

She nodded and went to sit on the bed, her arms wrapping around herself, and at once he wanted to go to her and recoiled at the sight. Everything in him rose up and roared a warning.A trick. A trap.

“I’ll have a word with the stableboys,” he promised, and shut the door.

Normally guards pretended not to overhear anything, effectively blind and deaf to everything that passed in their presence. But tonight, both of the house guards were waiting for him as soon as he came outside. Guards with whom the princess was already on a first-name basis, Remin noted. Yvain was a short, sturdy man who would never win a race, but who could march to the ends of the earth, and Dol was taller and weedy-looking.

“They’re back, Your Grace?” Yvain asked.

“It looks like it. I’ll send someone with extra torches. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

He did send someone to warn the stableboys to lock up, but only because it was good sense. It would be devastating if the devils got into the stables.

“And tell them to make sure that donkey is put somewhere safe,” he added before the messenger departed.

It was a late night. Remin and his knights occupied Edemir’s small office long past midnight, wrangling over which men could be spared for what tasks, and whether or not they needed to build some sort of hardened structure for the masons’ camp. They had a duty to protect the folk of the valley, but there was also a concern about provoking panic, or even an exodus out of town. If such a thing happened, it would take years to recover.

“The worst part is, it will slow down the wall,” Edemir said grimly, surveying his new lists. His secretaries had been writing their fingers off, keeping pace with the flow of orders. “It’s going to be full summer before they even begin the northern stretch.”

“At some point we’re going to have to find out where the devils go during the winter, and why,” said Juste. “Are they hibernating? Breeding? Or one spring night we may find they’ve bred up more than we expected over the winter.”

“Maybe that’s what they did this winter,” said Huber, who was always good for a bad thought.

“Let’s not make any assumptions,” Remin said firmly. “We know what we’re dealing with, if not how many. Let’s call back a reserve force from the Vallethi border, and we can discuss tracking the devils to their burrows come fall.”

With the next day’s work divided between them, they broke for the night, far more warily than usual. The devils feared the sunlight and avoided torchlight, but it wouldn’t stop them. Outside the cookhouse, Remin found Miche leaning against the wall, waiting.

“She was scared,” Miche said, without preamble. “I told you to take her home because she was scared, Rem, not so you could get her out of the way. I know you’re an idiot about women, but you’re verging on being cruel. If she’s scared, you stay with her until she’s not.”

“My wife is not your business.”

“You made her my business. And you’re my business too, you giant git.”

Remin had been at odds with his men before. It was inevitable; all of them were accustomed to command, all of them had strong opinions, and though Remin bore the title of the Duke of Andelin, it wasn’t a card he cared to play often. He wanted his knights to argue with him if they thought he was wrong.

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