Page 31 of Stars May Burn

He bowed. “As far as I know, Lady Batton is in the garden having breakfast, my lord. Shall I inform her of your return?”

I shook my head. “No. Get Callum. At this hour, he should be working in the east wing.”

The servant bowed and left. I pulled off my jacket and forced my aching legs up the steps to my office. I poured myself a whiskey before unbuttoning the collar of my shirt, and letting my thoughts turn to Sophie. Somehow, I always felt lighter when I thought of her. It was refreshing to have something to dwell on that wasn’t soaked in darkness and threats. Something that wasn’t an endless list of jobs. Everything else in my life seemed to revolve around death. She was uncorrupted by all of that.

I stood in the shadow to one side of the floor-to-ceiling window and watched her in the garden. She was smiling. For some reason, that made my chest ache, a sensation I wasn’t much used to. It was the way the smile reached her eyes and made her whole face shine. She had been through so much, yet her eyes hadn’t become dull and hard. I hadn’t thought it possible.

Their breakfast table was abandoned. Her maid passed her a basket and miniature shears, and she cut some roses, delphiniums, and chrysanthemums. I made note of every flower she touched or smelled. It had been the right decision to marry her and bring her here. She looked happy. Just the sight of her brought me a peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. And something else, something I could only identify as hope. Not for myself—I was too far gone—but for our war-ravished world. She proved there could still be joy after pain.

I heard the door open and close behind me. Only Callum wouldn’t knock.

“Any news?” I asked without turning.

I heard the clink of him pouring whiskey and then a thump as he collapsed into one of my armchairs.

“Not really. The people of Kasomere like Lady Sophie. She met with them for a few hours yesterday. She also took an interest in my workshop.”

I turned with an eyebrow raised. “She didn’t see anything she shouldn’t have?”

Callum shook his head. “No, of course not. But she is…inquisitive.”

I frowned, rubbing my forehead. “I want her left out of this completely, Callum. I mean it.”

Callum sighed, despite the threat in my voice. “Yes, yes, we all know.” I heard his feet hit the floor. “You look awful, by the way. Didn’t you stop to sleep?”

I sighed and walked back to the free armchair. “You know I struggle to sleep.”

He leaned forward. “Nightmares again? You could ask the physician. I’ve heard she can make draughts that send you into a deep dreamless sleep.”

I shook my head. I needed to be sharp and alert. Not drugged.

A servant brought in a breakfast tray. I ate the sliced meats and fruits without really tasting them. “I’m expecting retribution, Callum. I antagonized both Lord Charles and Duke James. I suspect Duke James will find some way to manipulate the king into enacting his revenge quickly. Or maybe Lord Lyrason will be the one who does it. I bet he’s annoyed I didn’t get caught in this trap too.”

“Well, Lord Lyrason has yet to make any move directly against you. But”—Callum shrugged—“retribution was always coming, whatever the source. I get bored of waiting, so I suppose it’s good that you sped things up. It’s been years since you came of age now, and you’re still not dead. Anything else?”

I shook my head. “No more artifacts or bodies. Just another letter from the Red Men asking for my help. I don’t know how to make myself any more clear.”

Callum grunted. His blank expression enough could have meant anything.

My appetite was gone. I stood and stretched. “I’ll bathe, then catch up on any communications.”

Callum leaned back and wrinkled his nose. “Please do. I can only tolerate so much odor from you. You might want to shave too.”

I gave him a flat look. “You’re only jealous that you still can’t grow a proper beard.”

He scoffed, then looked thoughtful. “Would you like me to tell Sophie…”

“No.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

A steward came in holding a scroll. “My lord, a rider just arrived. We have orders from the king. Our men are to head out on the last day of summer to join the current minor campaign.”

I took the rolled-up parchment and scanned the ridiculous cursive script and floral language that was little more than a death sentence. Only four weeks. I’d hoped I would have more time.

This was their retribution. And it had only taken them a day to achieve.

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