The tent darkened with the closing of the flaps, and I shivered.
If I was going to save Lord Draw from death by torture, I needed to make Ironclaw as infatuated with me as I had once been with him.
––––––––
IDIDN’T KNOW IF Iarrived before the sun cleared the horizon, but I was dressed in my green hunting tunic and trousers, and was outside the generals’ tent as the morning chill burned off. The tent was big enough to fit a dozen people around a long table, but I was reluctant to go in.
Indeed, there was bellowing—someone’s egg yolks were hard when they wanted over easy. At this admission, the tent flaps flipped open. Fortunately, the bellowing voice didn’t match the face of the person who walked out. My age with dark eyes and umber skin, a very short beard, and neat cornrows.
His eyes sparkled. “Apprentice Witch of Mayfair,” he greeted me, low and wry. The perfect voice for an audiobook.
“Jerrald,” I said, surprised. The bellowing continued, and Jerrald rolled his eyes and led me a few paces away from the tent.
“What were you doing in there? Wait.” It was the first time I was seeing Jerrald in a new outfit, one made of thick gray cloth with an edge of brilliant blue—the queen’s blue. “Were you promoted?”
“Promoted?” Jerrald was as surprised as I was. “I’m the queen’s field commander.”
I processed that a moment.
Oh dear.
Jerrald was so jacked, I’d asked if he was a farmer when we first met.
“I didn’t know—”
“You thought just anyone could make introductions to the queen and secure you splint mail from Landsome’s strictest armorer?”
“Well, yeah,” I admitted.
He chuckled, the first time I heard him do so. At Castle Creneda he had been a bit of a sourpuss, but now he seemed in good spirits, and I told him so.
His smile immediately flattened, and he looked over his shoulder.
“Don’t say that so loudly. Field commanders aren’t allowed to have good mornings.”
I was pretty sure he was joking and responded, “Witch’s apprentices aren’t allowed to have bad ones.”
“I believe it. You might not be used to our customs here—” my stomach tightened as I wondered if he had figured out who I really was, but it relaxed when he said “—being from across the Seas of Melancholy, but to everyone else around here, I’m good at what I do and it’s nice to be on the roads again. Still, it’s like—”
“—standing in front of the queen being judged for breathing wrong,” I finished.
He nodded. “Field commander and witch’s apprentice. We’re both under watch constantly, aren’t we?”
“Lady Dottie. Sir Jerry.”
We turned.
It was the man whose image I ran through my head before falling asleep last night—enormous news in my little life as that prime-time placement had been occupied by Ironclaw for years.
Lord Draw.
I straightened my shoulders and chin. Even if we couldn’t be together, even if I had to focus on seducing his cousin to save his life...I could still look good in front of him.
The resemblance to Ironclaw was clear—the height if not the cords of muscle, the dark hair if not as long, the eyes that were green and suspicious rather than black and suspicious. I’d only seen Draw in his formal dark robes and sash, so I was surprised he wore a light brown tunic with blue thread and a pair of wool pants that morning.
“Sir Jerrald,” Jerrald corrected. He was persnickety about the nickname, but something told me it wasn’t going back in the castle stable.
At Castle Creneda, Draw had been at my every turn—very helpful. Things changed after we kissed in his chambers, I left abruptly and then was seen riding with his cousin the following morning, a cousin I had told Draw that I had a huge crush on.
