Page 75 of The Second Death of Locke
There was very little fanfare when they made it to the camp, but quite a lot of staring. There were whispers in town about the High Lord’s approach the day before, unscheduled. Even more rumors circulated about a party with diplomatic immunity moving down from Cleoc Strata, and an armistice between the nations while the High Lord was in residence.
Grislar was one of the more established forts: real stone walls and a great tower looking out to sea, shining a light toward Eprain for any supply ships that entered the Bay of Locke. Grey paused on the hill that led down to the command building, staring out at the bay.
Home. She felt the press of it, the call of the sea, of the Isle that was once there.
Kier’s hand graced her arm, barely a touch. She looked at him, the weight of his stare, as if he could ask if she was okay. She nodded, and they moved on.
They were hustled through corridors until they reached a nicely appointed office, usually reserved for the highest-ranking officer, who had been temporarily moved.
“Commander Reggin will be with you shortly,” the lieutenant said, before he left the group to wait.
“Commander?”Brit whispered when the door shut behind the man, leaving them alone.
Kier stood at rest, perfectly at ease near the window. Grey felt she could not mirror any ounce of his easy grace. “I imagine they realize the importance of what is happening,” he said.
“But a commander?”
He shrugged. Scaelas had two commanders, one for the east and one for the west, the dual-headed authority of his military.Commander Reggin, the eastern commander, generally operated out of the capitol.
Grey watched Sela, who kept looking anxiously at the door, then the window. The room they were in faced out to sea. Sela perched on the wide edge of the window, back flattened to the wall, as if she could see the cliffs of Cleoc Strata in the distance if she only looked hard enough.
Grey moved to lean against the wall next to her, then caught the girl’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” she said quietly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Sela looked at her for a long moment, and Grey thought she was going to claim she wasn’t afraid. But then she shifted closer, resting her head on Grey’s shoulder. “Do you promise?” she asked.
Grey wrapped her arm more securely around her. “I swear it.”
Kier came close, dipping his head toward Grey. “Will Scaelas recognize you? If you look like your mother?”
Grey chewed her lip. “It’s not impossible.”
“Hmm.” He frowned. Before she could react, he pulled the tie out of her braid and arranged her hair so it fell around her shoulders, partially obscuring her face.
“Kier—”
He didn’t wait for any further discussion; just moved off toward the other three, leaving Grey blinking after him. She did not hear what he said to them.
It was only a few more minutes of anxious shuffling before the door opened again, admitting a tall, stern man. The assembled guards straightened immediately; Sela did not move, other than to squeeze Grey’s hand even tighter.
“Leave us,” Reggin said to the guards, who obeyed immediately, leaving the commander alone with the retinue.
Grey regarded him, from the gleaming polish of his boots to his salt-and-pepper hair, the serious set of his mouth, the absence of his sword. His Hand followed only a few steps behind, a young person with close-cropped auburn hair. The commander only nodded to the retinue as he went around the desk and sat down. Grey watched him watch them, then studied the way the Hand commander staredstraight ahead, hands behind their back, firmly at rest. She wondered how such a young well had ended up at Reggin’s side.
“Captain Seward,” the commander said finally, folding his hands on his desk. “I have received… interesting reports from your journey.”
“We only did what we were told,” Kier said, slipping back into his captain voice. She hadn’t realized how much authority he carried in these meetings, but it was all posturing. Even now, in worn travel clothes, he looked just as refined as the commander.
Reggin nodded to the chair in front of his desk. Kier sat down. Before Grey could move to her place behind him, Eron stepped forward, blank-faced. Grey froze, every muscle tensed as she watched him stand behind Kier and rest his hand on the captain’s shoulder.
No one else moved. No one even looked surprised. Looking from face to face, Grey realized that they hadplannedthis. She knew Kier well enough to understand: he would present Eron as his Hand when they met the High Lord too, allowing Grey to slip into the background, posing as a typic.
“Hand Captain,” Reggin said, nodding at Eron. Eron greeted the commander formally, in the perfect posture of a Hand. Grey squeezed Sela’s hand back fiercely.
She never got to watch Kier’s face in these meetings, since she spent most of them behind his back with her hand on his shoulder. Now she watched Eron—she hadn’t realized before how similar they were in height and build, though Eron’s skin was medium brown whereas Grey was pale, and his hair was black and curly against Grey’s brunette.
But with only a name and rank and maybe a few statistics, who would know the difference?
“It’s good that you left when you did,” the commander said, sitting back in his chair. “Mecketer was attacked shortly after your departure.”
