Daris grunted, then sighed loudly as he took the chair beside Jason. Rydon was loathe to sit, not because he disliked them. They had turned out to be decent men—honorable men. But he was bone tired and not in the mood to be tricked into answers by the commander.
Gabriol took his indecision as participation, taking a seat across from Daris and his men. Rydon scowled, but took the seat at his side.
Jason pushed a tankard toward Daris. “Water.”
The commander muttered his thanks.
The others reached out and took a tankard each, waiting patiently as Jason poured them ale. Rydon sat back and took a long drink, closing his eyes and savoring the bitter brew.
All of them were quiet, lost in their own thoughts and nursing their drinks. Rydon was thinking of taking his leave once he’dfinished his ale, but Jason leaned forward with the pitcher, refilling his tankard in silence.
“It will be some time before we can return to Sparta,” Daris said at last.
No one argued against this.
“Poor girl,” Michael said, and Rydon looked at the man from beneath his brows, alert. But Michael looked genuinely upset, his head hanging, his hand shaking slightly as he twisted his tankard.
“Aye,” Gabriol agreed.
“That night at the fighting pit? I knew there was something about her,” Jason said as he stared off into space. “There’s no way she would’ve been that close to beating me otherwise.”
Rydon’s bark of laughter surprised him. The others looked at him, grinning, and broke into laughter as well. Rydon lifted his tankard to Jason, the Liodari grinning at him as he raised his own tankard in salute.
“What will you all do when we return?” Jason asked. “If she is truly the daughter of Ares, then you must stay in Sparta.”
Rydon saw Daris tense. He sat back and crossed his arms. “Once we have Sonah back, we’ll head north.”
“Why not stay in Sparta?” Jason urged. He looked at his commander for support. “It must be why the Fates guided you there. Now we all know she’s the Heir, Daris?—”
“And what awaits in the north?” Daris interrupted.
Rydon narrowed his eyes. “Opportunity.”
“We hear the new king is gathering an army,” Michael said after he took a drink. “For what purpose, I wonder.”
Gabriol leaned forward, cradling his ale in both hands. “To defend against the tyrant Solon, I’d imagine. As any sensible sovereign.”
“Solon has his own problems just now,” Michael replied. “I don’t see him looking north anytime soon when his own nobles are rebelling against him.”
Rydon looked over at the three men. “We’ve only heard rumors.”
“Makes sense,” Jason said, glancing at Daris. The commandershook his head almost imperceptibly. Rydon wondered if he’d imagined it.
“How did the two of you come to be with Terena and Croak?” Jason asked before Rydon could respond. “I know Sonah was at the palace. That she grew up with Croak and Terena when they were in Metilai. But Sonah didn’t mention how you joined their ranks.”
Rydon stared at Jason so long the man stiffened, but he didn’t turn away.
“You know much of Sonah, Youngblood,” Gabriol said as he eyed Jason across the table. “When have you had occasion to speak with her?”
Jason reddened. “We spoke when we met you that night in Sparta.”
Rydon and Gabriol shared a look.
“We met Croak in Laurica,” he said after an awkward pause. “He asked us for help in rescuing his sister when word reached him of her capture.”
Well, it was as much truth as he was willing to offer just then.
Jason grunted.
