One of his companions clapped his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I think it’s young Lord Valerian’s time to turn the spit, isn’t it?”
Valerian winced at the suggestion. “Surely someone else would be better suited for the task.”
The man threw back his head and laughed, and was joined by the others. “Nonsense! You’ve had so much practice that you are our best man!”
Valerian’s shoulders sank, as did his face, but he took up his position at the spit’s handle and began the torturous rotation.
Carus dropped onto the log beside me, a grin stretching his face as he watched the young man. “He’s a good lad to take our sport with such a face.”
“He’s pretty young to be a lord,” I mused.
The man bobbed his head. “Young indeed. His father passed away two winters before, and he took up the title at sixteen. This is his first hunt.”
“Hunt?”
“For the nethral,” Carus explained as he nodded at the woods that encroached on the camp. “The fiends have been attacking some of the farms in this area, and we’re here to find their pit and destroy it.”
Nethral. Pit. My mind couldn’t wrap itself around what one had to do with the other, but the dark look in the depths of his eyes told me I didn’t want to know.
However, I did want to know one thing. “Where’s the king?” I wondered as I looked about us. His majesty was nowhere to be found among those seated about the fire.
“Tending the horses,” Carus told me as he picked up a stick and began drawing circles in the dirt to make a creature that resembled a horse. “He won’t rest until everyone else is seated before him.”
“That doesn’t sound very kingly.”
He finished his masterpiece, a horse with wobbly legs and a too-long neck, and chuckled. “That’s what the old ones used to tell him after he became king, and you know what he said to them?”
“What?”
“‘My subjects and their comforts come before me, even if that means I am the last to slop the pigs.’” He leaned toward me and winked. “You can imagine their annoyance at such a young king showing them up in wisdom.”
“Was he young?”
He nodded at the young man who turned the spit. “A year younger than even Lord Valerian.”
The men suddenly shot to their feet, including Carus. My confusion evaporated when I saw the king stroll into their midst with a few other retainers at his back. He beckoned them back into their seats. “Sit, everyone. You’ll need your rest for the morrow. We can’t be far from the pit.”
“And if the tales are to be true, there will be plenty of nethral to vanquish before we get to it,” one of the men spoke up.
“And they’re bold, as well,” another joined in as he nodded at the fire. “I have heard that not even the glow of fire and the soft brightening of the horizon on twilight stops their prowling.”
One of the men who had followed the king pounded his fist against his chest. “But we will!”
A playful smile danced on the king’s lips. “Before that joyous occasion, which one of you will keep the watch?”
All of the men jumped to their feet, and their voices joined the offer.
“I will!”
“As will I!”
“Don’t count me out!”
Their majesty chuckled. “I admire your willingness, but some of us should get some sleep. Lord Corvinus and Sir Drusus.” Two of the men stepped forward. “You two will take the first watch. If half the reports are true, we are working against bold foes. Trust nothing to chance. Investigate every sound and shadow.”
The pair clapped their right arms over their chests and bowed at the waist. “Yes, Your Majesty!” They hurried off in separate directions and soon disappeared into the growing shadows.
The king turned to me, and his smile softened. He used an arm to gesture to his tent. “Should you need to rest at any time, Lady Holt, you may use my tent.”
