Page 90 of Red Ruin
Remy leadsme into the chamber where the Farguard keeps its messaging orbs.
My heart drops. “This is…it?”
Chamberisn’t a great word for the basement conference room where a single, bowling-ball sized orb sits perched on an empty roll of duct tape in the middle of a dust-caked folding table.
Remy nods. “This is it.”
It’s not exactly the Kyorgos mansion, all chandeliers and velvet cushions, every fixture sparkling, pristine, and cold.
The ducal messaging chamber has its own butler.
“Let me guess. There are no energy crystals?”
Remy chuckles. “No budget for the damned.”
Sighing, I wipe the dusty orb with my sleeve. “Can you power it for me? I need to concentrate.”
“Happily.” Remy touches a silk to the glassy surface, channeling a steady flow of magic to activate the orb. A light sparks inside, signaling that it’s ready to connect.
He’s being so helpful that I consider passing back the responsibility to make this call. “What if…”
“Hmm?” he asks, busy sniffing my hair.
“Never mind.” I tug away the hair and shoo him to the other side of the table.
It’s my job.
Time to prove that I can do it.
When I pick up the orb, it hums against my fingers, resonating with my badge. The authority of a sword major allows me access to a few channels. The Farguard falls directly under the Northern Legion’s authority, so theyshouldbe my first report.
But House Azrid commands the legion.
If their plan is really for Remy to rampage and die alone in the mountains…
Screw the chain of command.
Manipulating my silks, I tune to the palace’s emergency line. “Connect.”
A middle-aged man’s face appears. He wears the gold-and-white robed uniform of a low-level minister and a haughty pinch in his nose.
“Name, post, report,” he drones.
“Iris Ashbourne. I’m standing in as commander of the Northern Legion’s Farguard, stationed at?—”
“That name belongs to a consort registered under the protection of Kyorgos House.”
“No. I’m?—”
“YouareIris Ashbourne?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then you’re not authorized to use this channel,” the man cuts me off again. “Have your commanding officer submit the report. Good day.”
The orb darkens.
I squeeze it hard enough to risk a crack. “What if we abandon the border, after all?”
