Page 40 of Stars May Burn

I snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would we even talk about? This is enough.” I gestured out the window. “When she looks like that…” I caught myself, clearing my throat. “Can you send Tom, the gardener, to my office?”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Tom? What’s he got to do with the campaign? We’re leaving in three weeks, and the supply train still isn’t finalized. You’re getting distracted, Kasten, and it’s not like you. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

I gave him a hard look, tilting my head to one side and folding my arms. “Are you doubting that I’m doing my job?”

Callum held up his hands. “No, no. I’ll get Tom. Just…let me know if you need any help with the campaign, all right? You shouldn’t work so late every night. Many of us could help.”

“You’ve got the weapons to sort out. And we need more spare freisk knives.”

He nodded once. “They’ll be ready. They’re all working well. I’m just making the adjustments invisible for any inspections. I’m not the one getting distracted.”

He turned and left before I could retort. I took one last look at Sophie smiling, bathed in golden sunshine, then headed back to my office to contemplate who was most likely to kill me next month: my father or the enemy. Or any one of the nobles I had angered. Duke James was probably top of the list right now; there had been real anger and hatred in his parting words. The most important thing was for me to limit casualties, whatever they planned. It wasn’t the fault of my men that the king wanted me dead.

I collapsed in my office chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was tired. So, so tired. And not just because of my inability to sleep.

Originally, I thought this role would get easier with time. I thought I would be used to the preparations, the secrets, the inevitably of death, the knowledge that I couldn’t keep everyone safe. I’d waited for the troops to become mere numbers on a ledger. Statistics. But it hadn’t happened, and every time I planned and replanned, I felt like an ant trying to play God with too many lives.

I touched the box which contained the names of those who’d fallen under my command, as was my ritual every time I sat down. I’d done what I could, and many of their families were now employed in Kasomere. But until the king was satisfied, more lives would be lost. And the king was never satisfied. I doubted even my death would end the bloodshed. This war would last an eternity.

Thank the kingdoms, I had Callum. We would have been long dead without him.

There was a timid knock at the door.

“Come in,” I snapped, more abruptly than I’d intended.

The door creaked open slowly, and Tom poked his head in as if uncertain whether I had really summoned him.

“Quick now, I’ve not got all day.”

The young man startled and scurried into my office, wringing his cap between his hands. Not sure why. I wasn’t that scary.

“My lord?”

“You were talking to my wife just now?”

Tom acted as if he were in trouble, hunching his shoulders slightly and darting his eyes to the door. “Yes, my lord. I was helping her with her garden.”

“What was in the bag that made her embrace you?”

His face drained of color, and a tremble ran down his arm as he stumbled over his words. “I assure you, my lord, it was an innocent gesture. She was merely taken by surprise and very excited. I didn’t instigate it.”

I waved his words from the air, trying not to sound too impatient. “Answer the question, Tom.”

“It’s horse droppings mixed with peat and compost. My own recipe, my lord.”

I frowned at him with annoyance. Was this some sort of joke? She was overjoyed about horse feces?

Tom noticed my expression and stumbled over his words. “It was for her sweetwart, you see. Hers isn’t flowering, even though it’s the right month. It’s a tricky one to grow, and I mean, well, she only purchased and planted them four days ago. The leaves are good for all sorts of things, but the flowers, well, they are the real prize, my lord.”

I rubbed my chin. Sweetwart? “And you grow them too? Was that one you brought over to her?”

He nodded. “Yes, my lord. I wanted to show her one of my younger ones that I’d got to flower. She was very excited. I explained the trick was the acidity of the soil and underwatering. It’s not easy, but I’ve been growing herbs for our kitchen for years. I found a certain compost mix brings them into flower reliably. I use it all the time, so I gave some to her. She’s tried to grow it before in pots and never had one flower, you see, and she’s hard on herself. She’s not had much opportunity to experiment in the past with the practical side of gardening, but her knowledge is impressive. I’m learning from her every day.”

I leaned back in my chair. “What sort of gardening is she trying to do? I couldn’t even see your sweetwart flowers from the window. They can’t have been very impressive.”

“She…she enjoys growing herbs and plants with special properties, my lord. Sweetwart flowers can be turned into a local anesthetic. Much safer than numbing agents taken orally.”

I stared at him.

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