Page 49 of Winter's Fate

Callum didn’t want to look Laena’s way as Moore turned to her, but honor said he owed it to her to meet her eye. Whereas he’d avoided it after the incident in the cabin, afraid of what she must think of him, after seeing him shed so much blood, this time she met his gaze straight on.

And she was not happy with him.

Moore stepped between them, offering her a bow and dipping his head with almost regal grace. “I trust you are unaware, ma’am, that you’ve been taken captive by an imposter.”

Callum had the distinct sense that Landon Moore didn’t know who Laena was, and that he was covering his ignorance by avoiding her name. Well, she’d only just agreed to serve as emissary, had she not? It stood to reason that Katrina would not have named her to Hawk. And Moore had the sense to pretend he knew her.

He had access to the same records that Callum did. Why the mages had Hawk named him general if he hadn’t bothered to study?

Laena raised an eyebrow. “An imposter? Is this man not Callum Farrow?”

Moore, who had yet to sheath his own sword, though he held it casually at his side—as casually as one could hold such a thing—gave an ugly laugh. “He is, my lady. He is. But he’s no longer the captain of the King’s Guard, nor was he given charge over the expedition.”

Laena narrowed her eyes, as if she didn’t quite believe what Moore was telling her. “And yet he arrived in Etra with the delegation.”

“Well, my lady,” Moore said, “I’m sorry to say that he stole it.”

If the stewthe bandits carried was excellent, the whiskey they carried decidedly was not. It was the type of stuff they only carried at Callum’s third-favorite pub in Vunmore, a place where he hesitated to even darken the door. It wasn’t typically necessary; the first two served him just fine.

Most places wouldn’t even use this stuff for medicinal purposes, unless pressed. Yet it did the job well enough, and Callum always found that if he sat with the bottle for an hour or more, its contents would begin to taste just fine indeed.

There’d been moments on this journey when Callum had nearly forgotten the mission didn’t belong to him at all. He’d nearly convinced himself that was the case. That Hawk owed it to him, that he’d declare all forgiven as soon as he saw how much Callum had achieved. How well he’d done.

Assassins. Shipwrecks. Kidnappers. That was how well he’d done.

And now Laena knew it all.

When Callum had taken up the bottle, she’d taken up a conversation with Moore, then with Edmun and Godfrey, working her way down the line and checking in with each of the men, as Callum ought to be doing. But he’d failed them, as Hawk had known he would. He’d lied to them, betrayed them, left them to drown.

It didn’t matter that Edmun had known from the beginning. It was a betrayal nonetheless.

No doubt General Moore would have found a way to keep the ship from sinking. The way the man was strutting around the camp’s perimeter, nudging the nervous bandits in the ribs by turns and earning himself a hard stare from Gretchen—who, given a chance, would surely skewer the man through his own ribs—he would no doubt be spinning this tale to make himself the hero who’d intentionally discovered Callum, rather than by pure accident.

What was he doing, raiding random camps in the forest, anyway?

“Is this seat taken?”

Callum was tipped just far enough toward drunk not to jump at the sound of Laena’s voice. A bit drunker and he’d have fallen off the log. Luckily, he maintained his dignity. “Not sure why you’d want to sit on it, but it’s free for the taking if you care to.”

Laena sat down beside him so her side was flush against his. As close as they’d been on the pallet. Closer even, though thigh to thigh was not quite as desirable as their previous position.

“I’m surprised you don’t wish to avoid me,” he said. “I lied to you.”

“Please.” She plucked the bottle from his hands and took a swallow, grimacing before handing it back. “I can hardly be angry at a fellow outcast. One, I think, who did what he did with good intentions?”

Callum couldn’t help it; he stared at her. “Perhaps,” he said carefully, half afraid she’d stand up and laugh, call him a fool, and head off to make friends with Moore.

Instead, she leaned in closer, her arm flush with his. It took a concerted effort not to tuck her in closer and resume the activities Landon Moore had so rudely interrupted.

“You could have arrested me the moment you saw the way I…” She trailed off, but he noted the way she twisted her hands, fluttering her fingers. A mild approximation of the movements she’d made back in that cabin. The movements that had sent deadly icicles flying into walls, and men’s shoulders. That had barred the doorway.

Again, the liquor saved him. Without it, he would have startled. He would have flinched.

If Hawk discovered that Callum had been escorting a woman who could do magic, and without clapping her inchains… well, he’d add it to the growing list of Callum’s crimes. What was one more.

“Arrest you for what?” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Unprovoked teasing?”

She held his gaze, obviously not buying the casual act. “You put your trust in me, Captain. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

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