Leth nudges Star farther to the side of the road, eager to let the Dravans pass. Irrational tension claws his stomach. There’s no real reason to worry. Dravan captains don’t have stop and search authority, so there’s no reason for a confrontation.
Except as the two parties cross paths, Leth recognizes Captain Gannet. She served in his uncle’s regiment before he retired. By her widening eyes, she recognizes Leth too.
Surprise twisting into an ugly scowl, Gannet reins her horse in. “Leth ka Tariel?” Her soldiers halt behind her. “I want a word with you.”
Leth’s getting really tired of hearing his full name called out. Reining Star in too, he tells Evain and the others, “Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up.”
He doesn’t want to make a scene, and his new companions don’t need to hear about his embarrassing family baggage.
But the party doesn’t ride on. Arthur actually nudges his mare towards Leth, as if he’s going to act as Leth’s protective escort, until Evain drawls, “Over here, brave Sir Arthur, can’t you see he wants privacy with the lady?”
Leth isn’t used to feeling grateful towards Evain. Schooling his expression, he rides closer to the Dravan troop. “It’s been a while, Captain Gannet.”
Her scowl deepens. “Don’t be fucking polite with me.”
“Then how can I help you?” Leth says, which is still probably too polite, judging from her glare.
Behind him, he hears his party riding away. He ignores them, just like he ignores the whispers between the Dravans. Gannet’s troop isn’t based in Fort Tarhaeg, and few of them should recognize him by sight, but every Dravan in the army knows his name by now. The Tariel traitor who severed them from Valor.
Gannet gives her soldiers a hand signal to hold still. “Your uncle spoke well of you, you know.”
That would be news to Leth. Like most of the Tariel elders, his uncle’s praise was always directed towards Anton, not the small, bookish failure of a younger brother.
“He thought you had potential, as a kid,” Gannet continues. “Dedicated, he called you. I didn’t know you well, but I always thought it was a shame you never enlisted.” Her scowl softens, and the hurt in her eyes is far worse than the anger. “I want to know why you did it.”
Leth takes a deep breath and forces himself to look her square in the eyes.
Ordinary soldiers didn’t know the contracts were false before the Unbinding broke them. They weren’t at fault. Gannet served and worked hard for decades, building a career and life on the belief her magic was god-given. Leth’s not the one who lied to her, but he’s the one who took that lie away. Her sword is weaker now, perhaps forever, because of him.
Facing Gannet is harder than facing his brother, who was complicit in the Binding.
“I know this won’t help, and you may never believe it,” Leth says. “But it was the right thing to do.”
Gannet exhales. “You’re right. It doesn’t help.” She lifts her hand, and the Dravans start moving towards Ostaris. After another long moment staring at Leth, she shakes her head and trots away.
Leth counts three breaths to lock up his emotions, then turns Star around.
Most of the group is waiting fifty paces down the road. Only Evain remains in earshot, posed like a portrait on his massive black stallion. His red coat and the horse’s tail ripple in the wind. One of Evain’s hands is loose on the reins, and the other rests casually against his thigh.
“Are you done chatting?” Evain says, as if he hadn’t heard everything. “She was attractive, in a rugged way. But I think she’s a little too old for you.”
The teasing doesn’t annoy Leth as much as usual. He’s just grateful Evain isn’t asking questions, and that he sent the rest of the party ahead. They’re going to be his colleagues for the next few weeks or months, and he’d prefer to keep his baggage private.
So instead of telling Evain to fuck off, Leth says, “Thank you.”
The shock on Evain’s face is rather rewarding.
***
Forgetting the incident isn’t as easy as riding away, though. Leth is still silently stewing on it by the time they halt for lunch. The riverbank is a common stopping site for travelers, and a handful of guild merchants keep food and supply stalls there to take advantage of the traffic. Rings of benches around fire pits offer a place to sit.
There are other travelers around, which Leth still isn’t used to when traveling with Evain. He never went as deep into hiding as Ronan and the rest of the Locksmiths—at least, not until after he stole the Dravansword. But it’s still weird being on a quest that isn’t a secret.
They picket the horses in range of water and grass, and Evain ties his horse much farther away from the others. The stallion doesn’t seem interested in the available grass. His head swivels around, constantly watching.
Leth thinks about Gannet and Anton and everything while he settles next to the rest of the group around one of the firepits. It’s stupid. He should be able to let go. But the confrontation gnaws at him, and he finishes his food without tasting it.
He barely hears the others talking. His hand itches for his sword, with the need to hit something. Work himself into exhaustion again, so he can stop thinking. But there are no training dummies here, and he can’t drive himself into the ground when he’s on a job. He just has to deal with the itch.
