“I owe my rank to them.” Commander Enys slapped a hand to Martin’s shoulder, a sign he didn’t intend to take no for an answer. Why was he so adamant about seeing Martin bonded?
“How so?”
“Think about it. Would you have stayed home with so many sisters? I lied about my age and joined the guards the moment they let me. My father was so proud he didn’t dare call me home. Now, I’m a commander.” Enys’s brilliant grin peeked out from his thick beard.
The hand bled warmth into Martin’s shoulder. He tutted. “Feared commander of the city guard, afraid of his own sisters.”
Enys exaggerated searching the area, whispering behind his hand, “Not afraid, just smart enough to avoid them when they swarm.”
Martin couldn’t help prodding the man whose scowl sent new recruits scurrying. “Is that why you volunteer for extra shifts during festivals?”
“No.” Enys grinned again. “I want the younger officers to have time to spend with their families.”
Martin cocked an accusatory eyebrow. “While you avoid your own. Don’t you think that makes you a bad brother?”
Enys patted the shoulder he’d seemingly taken possession of. “That makes me a smart man. Have you ever met my brothers-by-bonding? Since their bonding day, not a single one has made their own decisions.”
“You’re bonded.”
“Yes, to a lovely woman who helps me avoid my sisters. Now. Dinner?” Ah, Enys, forever the diplomat.
“Not tonight. Maybe some other time.” While Martin missed his own family, Enys’s loud, boisterous kin didn’t allow him to insert a single word into the conversation. Why would Martin commit to a lifetime of remaining silent?
Enys frowned. “It’s the blonde, isn’t it? Well, I have plenty of nieces of bondable age. So tell me your preferences; I’m sure we’ll have a match.”
Martin employed the same excuse he’d offered the last time he’d avoided dinner with the commander’s family. “I cannot afford a bond mate.”
“Shall I put in a word for a promotion?”
Smiling, Martin shook his head. Enys just wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I am perfectly happy as an unbonded man.”
“One day, you’ll grow tired of being alone.” Enys added a touch of persuasion to his tone.
Martin was tired now. But he’d not find the one he wanted sitting at his commander’s table in a new summer dress, mind full of establishing housekeeping with a guardsman.
“At least think about it.” Enys gave Martin one final back pat. “If you change your mind, you know where I live. You need my mate’s cooking. You didn’t gain your bulk by eating regiment food.”
Martin took the reins from the approaching stable lad and swung himself onto his favorite buckskin mare’s back. “I will certainly give it some thought while I’m on rounds today.” He rode his mount out of the stable yard, the horse’s hooves clacking against the cobblestones. Points to him for not galloping away.
Riding on horseback, patrolling the city, beat running lesser errands, like delivering packages on foot. New recruits carried parcels now. Despite what he’d told Enys, Martin had risen through the ranks to a comfortable salary, allowing him to leave the barracks for a two-room lodging, complete with a small courtyard.
The better to dodge ceaseless attempts to make him a bonded man. How many nieces found themselves bonded to guards under Commander Enys’s command? It seemed for every niece he saw settled with a mate, he gained two more.
At least the guards provided a steady income for the brides, although two of Enys’s nieces had joined the guards themselves.
Martin’s rooms were small but clean, furnished from castoffs he’d lovingly reworked. Anything he touched seemed better for the attention.
He’d even dug his plates and eating utensils from a discard heap, painstakingly restoring them to usability. Some repaired items he even sold in the market. For someone relatively new to the city, he’d made a secure life for himself.
Having more freedom to traverse the city made avoiding his fellow guards’ questions about his whereabouts easier while allowing him to rescue more castoffs.
He’d never found the priest who’d gifted him the medallion—worn tucked under his uniform tunic—in his travels, and he’d become bolder with his forays to the Lady’s temple.
Fear long ago turned to rage. Rage that honest people who simply wanted to raise their child in peace were put to death. He’d already avenged Gran, albeit unintentionally. No. No dwelling on the past. How dangerous was he to kill so many people accidentally? Granted, they’d been set on killing him. Still, sometimes Martin even terrified himself.
He’d learned the areas in need of watching, in the capacity of a city guard, particularly the in-betweens located between the upper and lower city. In all his travels, he’d sought out others like himself. He couldn’t be the only mage-born in this city.
No one questioned him. Did the pendant somehow protect him? He’d presented himself at the Father’s temple several times, only to receive a cryptic, “This isn’t your time.”
