“The King has requested us both, Lady Alexis,” the traveler announces.
I stiffen at the deep voice and reach for the apple, giving Millie her half before running a slow hand along her neck.
Prince Desmond Bardot of the Court of Warriors…
Second in command of the King’s army and Master Informer to the Kingdom of Disce. A man I’ve avoided since coming to Bardot.
No one willingly tries to catch the attention of our Master Informer, and until this greeting, I’ve only seen him in Castle Bardot in passing.
“We need to meet with him before the morning turns late,” he continues, “my father has other pressing matters to attend to.”
I move my palm across Millie’s back and stop on the saddle, finally looking up at the man I’ve kept my distance from for the past ten years.
Dark brown eyes catch mine in an instant, his narrowed gaze so focused and cool that I can’t help but hold back a shiver. The dark brown is complimented by his deep ebony skin, the two features so near to matching in color that they lend him the perfect mysterious appearance that befits the title of Master Informer. He’s handsome with his black hair and short-clipped beard, not to mention the angular plains of his face and the leaf-shaped ears that are so prominent amongst all the Discerni. And although his overall presence is cool, dark and quiet, there’s also something soft about him that I can’t quite place.
He looks to be the age of twenty-seven in human years, which would put him around a decade over one-hundred for a Discerni.
Desmond’s hard gaze breaks mine to glance at my saddle. I give him a curt nod and ignore his impassive stare, swinging a leg across Millie before getting comfortable. The Prince flicks his reins when I glance at him again, then spurs his grey steed into a quick gallop once he sees I’m ready toride. I urge Millie behind him with a frown and stare at the back of his black satin shirt, the color so dark compared to my Knowledge emerald that it emphasizes the Court of Warriors from which he hails.
While technically not of the same blood as the King, Desmond Bardot holds the same surname and status as if he is. The King adopted him at a very young age, raising him alongside his two sons and daughter as he integrated the Discerni boy into his royal family. Desmond’s true father was the King’s best friend, the former Commander of the Disce armies and the Leading Lord of the Court of Warriors. He was also a formidable fighter in his time, a man who protected our western border from nomads and other nefarious groups who traveled through the Bulwark Plains.
Desmond’s father died defending our lands in the only known battle on Disce lands in the last two thousand years. It took eight arrows of green agate to slow him down before a ninth, final arrow, pierced clean through his heart. He was dead the moment the stone sliced through the major muscle, leaving both Desmond, a young child at the time, and his mother without a father and a husband.
In the days that followed the battle, both mother and son were invited to live at Castle Bardot with the King and Queen and their court. Desmond’s mother lasted three months in the capitol before she contracted a sweating sickness that ravaged the entirety of the human population at the bottom of the mountain. The mortal woman succumbed to the sickness within a matter of days, while Desmond, being mixed-race, showed little to no signs of any illness. Her death led the young Master Informer to be swiftly adopted into the royal family, where he has remained a Prince ever since.
I’ve seen Desmond often in Bardot, always a quiet figure moving in and out of rooms in silent stealth and shadows. It’s known that he’s the gatherer of information for our Kingdom, but no one truly knows or questions how he gets that information or by what means. His frequent presence here in Bardot is something of a bit of a hushed whisper amongst the castle residents, though, and whenever the court is feeling bold enough to gossip, they’ll always ask the same question: Why does a Prince of the Court of Warriors spend so much time in Knowledge?
I prefer to leave that talk,and him, well enough alone.
Our ride along the Bell Grove quickly comes to an end when the two of us reach the eastern gate of the castle. Desmond brings his horse to a slow and gives me a cool glance to ride at his side, then leads us towards the barracks where the majority of the castle guards and some of the King’s army live. Most of them are awake and walking towards the training fields to begin their early morning, though they all stop and stand at attention the moment they spot their Prince.
That is… all of them except for a few of the younger boys.
“That’s him then, huh? The Master Informer?” a human boy no older than sixteen asks.
“Shut it, Thay.”
“Shut what? I can’t ask questions?”
“Not if you know what’s good for ya’. Don’t you know the Prince can hear whispers?”
“Rumors,” the boy called Thay rolls his eyes, “just like those that say he can disappear with the earth.”
“My momma said she saw it happen. Said she saw him in the rose garden one moment and gone the next.”
I peer quietly at Desmond in our ride, watching as the Master Informer remains silent.
“Who’s the lady with him?”
“A royal?”
“Nah,” Thay laughs, “a royal lady wouldn’t be caught dead in riding pants.”
“True. Does she have any shackles on?”
“You think he’s escorting her to his dungeons?”
“The dungeons are rumors, too, you idiots,” Thay shakes his head, “plus, she’s too pretty to be a prisoner.”
