Page 59 of Grave Situation

They both seem to notice it at the same time. “What is it?” Clem asks warily.

“A roast chicken sandwich. With gravy.”

He snatches it from my hand so fast, I blink. “Thank you,” he says, already unwrapping it.

Another win for my charm.

It thankfully staysdry for the next leg of our journey, though the sun is mostly hidden behind ominous banks of clouds. The King’s Own Guard—which is still such a stupid name—aren’t that bad, as far as traveling companions go. They stay fairly alert on the road, but they’re all willing to have a chat, and they have a variety of interesting stories from their soldiering lives. I spend a bit of time riding next to each of the ten men, winning them over with my charm and extensive knowledge of ribald jokes. I’ve yet to meet a fighting man who doesn’t like a dirty joke.

The first night, I’m delightfully surprised to return from making Sweetie comfortable to discover one of them has already set up my tent. When Jaimin questions it (I tried to stop him, but he insisted), they merely say that’s what they always do on escort duty. I privately ask the stone if it would be possible to keep this escort, but it ignores me.

We reach a hill overlooking the city of Lenledia late on the second morning of travel. Pim decides this is a good time to stop for lunch, and I gaze longingly at the city and its plethora of eating houses.

“Or we could press on,” I suggest. “Have lunch at the palace.” I’m sure they have a whole team of excellent cooks there who won’t give us jerky and oatcakes, with resinous canteen water to wash them down.

“Never been to the city before, Mage Silverbright?” he says knowingly. No matter how often I ask, none of them will call me Talon—just like the guards at the academy. It’s vastly annoying.

“Not this one. Why? Is the food at the palace bad?” I hope not.

He shakes his head. “It’s good enough, likely even better for you. But riding through Lenledia isn’t like riding on a highway.”

I’m sure he’s right. No doubt it’s much better.

“He means the roads inside are narrow and full of people,” Jaimin explains quietly from beside me. “We’ll have to go slowly, and it might be a few hours until we reach the palace.”

A fewhours? Belatedly, I remember that Lenledia is one of the oldest cities on the continent. Unlike the City of Knowledge, which was purpose-designed and built, and Harfarin, where my own queen reigns, which was burned to the ground and rebuilt seven hundred years ago, Lenledia’s streets are still made up of the original winding animal paths the first settlers built alongside.

I look around. “What a lovely spot for lunch.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I gaze aroundthe chamber I’ve been allocated with deep satisfaction. We were met, after a delightful ride through chaotic, noisy, bustling streets—how I’ve missed civilization—by the palace’s chief steward, who informed us that His Majesty the King and Master Haftel had been detained in an important meeting of the King’s Council, but that he would be happy to show us our rooms and have bathwater and a light snack sent up. I could have kissed him.

So now I’m clean, dressed in fresh clothing, and snacking on what may be the best crumpets I’ve ever tasted. I think the butter’s helping too. Does royalty get better butter than the rest of us?

There’s a knock on the door, but it opens before I can respond, and Tia stomps into the room, followed by Jaimin.

“What are you doing?” she demands. She’s tetchy because I’ve been ignoring her mind tugs for the past hour. A man deserves the chance to wash and eat, dammit. But she can’t yell at me about that with Jaimin here.

“Waiting for the king’s summons,” I say, smiling cheerfully.

“You don’t think you’d be better off exploring the castle and looking for the champion?”

I shrug and pat my chest, where the stone is resting snugly in its little pouch. “Nobody told me I had to. I guess they’ll cross my path when the stone is ready.” I’m still hopeful that the champion is here. Even if I can’t immediately head home as planned, I’d like to hand over this whole gods-damned mission to someone else and take a background role. Preferably one where I remain here in the palace and coordinate… things. Messages. Maybe I could put pins in maps or something. I’d be good at that, and it wouldn’t involve riding horses or sleeping outside.

Tia’s eyes narrow, and I don’t need to be in her head to know she wants to throw something at me. “Leicht settled?” I ask. Tia had the easiest time of us all in reaching the palace—there’s a whole battlement dedicated solely to dragons landing on it. I made sure that my room isn’t in that wing of the palace. The last thing I need is for some oversized lizard to get enthusiastic and land with less grace than usual, plunging through the stone and crushing me to death.

She’s still scowling, but she says, “Yes. There’s a field on the south side of the city where dragons stay while their riders are here. He’s enjoying the sheep.”

I’m revolted. “They keep sheep in the field for a dragon to prey on?”

Jaimin chuckles and strolls over to the window. “It’s called farming, Talon. That’s where your mutton stew comes from.”

Before I have to spend too much time thinking about that, there’s another knock on the door. I contemplate not answering it so I can finish my crumpets in relative peace.

“Enter,” Tia calls. Siblings are the worst.

A page pokes his head around the door. “His Majesty will see you now.”

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