Page 33 of King's Warrior

Cass raised a hand, ticking off points on his gloved fingers. “One. You sent him to Dellamar, where many will hate him. Two. He doesn't speak the language well, and he will generate rumors about an alliance. While I know an alliance is your ultimate goal, right now it is premature. Three. He speaks Cormiran, and our approach to the border will make us appear as an invading force.He could help assuage some fears. Four. He’s a soldier. You treated him like a sickly child.”

Trust Cass to present such good arguments. “But he’s injured.”

Cass snorted, returning his hand to the reins. “He’s a soldier. He’s likely fought with worse wounds. You’ve insulted him by doubting he could. He also knows the land once we cross into Renvalle. Because we’ve isolated ourselves, our trackers aren’t nearly so versed in the terrain, nor our translators the language.”

Niam hadn’t shared with many that he spoke fluent Renvallian and Cormiran. To do so would only feed rumors. “I agree.”

“Furthermore—”

“Cass, I said I agree.”

“You… what?” The confusion on Cass’s face would’ve been comical if it wasn’t at Niam’s expense.

“I agree. I should’ve brought Rufe.” Not to mention the huge Rufe-shaped hole in Niam’s heart. “But it’s too late to return for him. King Draylon already has a head start.”

“Yes, but his injured consort will slow him.”

“Yarif is fine.”

Cass grinned. “Yes, but Draylon will insist on frequent stops to ensure his consort isn’t over-tired.”

True. “Still, we don’t have time.”

“It will only take half a day.”

Niam shook his head. “That’s time we can’t afford. We need to show Emperor Soland that we stand behind King Draylon.”

“You know we’re alone, right?” Cass asked.

“Yes. What does it matter?”

“I’ve drunk with the man, lost at cards, won at cards, and harmonized terribly on bawdy soldier ditties. When we’re alone, you can call him Dray or Draylon.”

Cass knew Draylon that well? “I need to practice for when we face the emperor.”

“Ifwe face the emperor.”

Niam let out a sigh. “I believe we will. You don’t hate Captain Rufe for being Cormiran?” Over the years, tales of Cormiran atrocities had become so exaggerated that many Delletinians likely thought they bore claws and fangs.

Cass tilted his head to the side, staring off into the distance. He finally answered, “I used to think they were all greedy and evil, but Rufe’s nothing like that. Neither is Draylon. I find it hard to believe he’s Emperor Soland’s son. But as for Captain Rufe, he’s a skilled fighter, and he rushed in when those men attacked the keep. But most of all, and most telling, is the fact that your mother is smitten by him.”

What? How could Cass possibly know that? “What makes you say so?”

“The wife of one of my men works in the kitchen. Your mother is very insistent that Rufe gets the best food and attention. She dotes on King Consort Yarif, but she has a special place in her heart for Rufe Ferund. She doesn’t give her affection lightly.”

No, she didn’t. But how had Niam not seen his mother giving Rufe special treatment? Simple. Because she didn’t want him to see.

They plodded on. He heard a whiney "It's so cold!" from round faced, or rather, round in general advisor Zanial, who'd insisted on coming along and complaining every step of the way. Cass returned to his place at the head of the line. The captain so readily accepted Rufe with Niam. Would others do the same?

They rode through muddy slush stirred up by many hooves. Ice hung from pine boughs, making them sag toward the ground. The day had turned gray, but a nearby mountain peak showed through the gloom. The air remained crisp and cold, Niam’s breath fogging before his face. Still, he couldn’t help but smile in wonder at the beauty of his homeland.

“Captain!” One of Cass’s men stopped, jumped down from his mule, and darted through the trees with Cass on his heels.

Other soldiers closed ranks around Niam. He’d have to speak to Cass. If anyone watching was to believe him a mere private, such deference would tip them off to Niam’s importance.

Cass emerged from the trees. “We believe King Draylon came this way and paused for a midday rest.”

Niam slid down from his mule and followed Cass into the trees. Someone had covered the remains of a campfire with dirt, but the coals were still warm. “How do we know this is Draylon’s party?”

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