High Marshal Fedha guffawed under his mustache. High Marshal Dhahabu smirked, her eyes sparkling with interest. The grand marshal simply raised one eyebrow.
“Whatever details you wish to offer, we will listen,” she said.
I stared her down for a moment, then relented. “She was standoffish, seemed shocked at first that I would notice her, but she was eager for connection and attention. Very driven. When she set her sights on something, there was little which could dissuade her. Once she decided her goal was to make me her lover, well, we had an excellent time.”
“How was she compared to other girls?” Dhahabu asked.
“Remarkably forthright. After deciding I wasn’t trying to kill her, she opened up to me. She wanted a soulmate, not a political marriage, and didn’t like to play games.”
“And what drew you to her?” Dhahabu asked. “Certainly not her looks.”
I stared her in the face. Maybe it was the whiskey or the memory of Astrid, but I was feeling significantly moreconfident. “You’ve clearly been meeting the wrong sort of demons.”
“Beautiful, eh? Despite the…” Fedha asked, pantomiming horns and claws.
“You’d be surprised what you get used to.” I took a breath. “She was bold. Never took any shi—any guff from anyone.”Unlike me, I thought. “She was also smart, and supportive, surprisingly romantic, and I could be free with her in a way I couldn’t be with any Commonwealth girl.”
“Why was that?” the grand marshal asked.
“She cared more about me than my social standing. Astrid didn’t view me as a potential husband or a good social match, or care about my fortune or lack thereof. She cared about me.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Grand Marshal Olgolny asked, “Has your history with Baroness Astrid caused you any problems in this current conflict with the Empire?”
I swirled my whiskey as I considered how to diplomatically answer. “Astrid left the Academy well before the war began. Even had she remained in Commonwealth space, I’d like to think I had enough sense back then to not throw away my career and my country over what, in all honesty, was probably little more than a schoolyard romance.”
That was a lie. Had she not been called away, I would have asked her to marry me.
“Would you willingly engage in a relationship with another Imperial noble?”
“Were we not at war, I would say that depends on the noble in question.”
“Would you resume your relationship with the baroness, should she contact you again?”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re at war.” I was confused, tired, and the more they asked me about my long-endedrelationship, increasingly irritated. Despite their exalted rank, I did not appreciate being played with. I wanted answers.
My mouth began speaking before I could consider the words it was saying. “It is truly a great honor to share a drink with such illustrious company, but I fail to see what relevance a relationship I had twelve years ago could possibly have to the Commonwealth’s military elite. If I am not to be court-martialed for my part in the New Melbourne disaster, then I should return to my post and continue doing my utmost to defeat the next Imperial onslaught, and I’ll try to shoot the next Imp noble I see instead of taking them to bed.”
My brain caught up with my lips a few fractions of a second too late. One did not speak to officers and nobles of that rank the way I had without repercussions. And one most definitely did not speak that way before the Queen. I expected a reprimand. I expected to be dismissed summarily. With no better recourse to save my career, I promptly downed the remains of my drink. It seemed a pity to waste good whiskey.
All three staff officers turned to the seated monarch. The grand marshal raised her eyebrow almost imperceptibly. In response, Queen Jadwiga gave a tiny approving nod.
Straightening from their relaxed, conversational postures into formal, upright, military attentions, all three marshals turned to me with a businesslike air. The grand marshal spoke.
“Lieutenant, I would like to brief you on Operation Gift Horse. Every word spoken after this point should be considered strictly confidential. Divulging any information shared within this room to anyone other than a person authorized Level Alpha for Operation Gift Horse will be considered an act of treason punishable by Transportation or Death. Do you understand?”
This was what I understood, the drinks in everyone’shands notwithstanding. I clicked my heels together and straightened my spine. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Operation Gift Horse is our last desperate attempt to bring this war to a conclusion via a negotiated peace before the complete collapse of our armed forces,” Olgolny continued.
A laudable goal. Peace would give both me and the Royal Commonwealth a chance to survive the year, but I didn’t see how it could be possible. “Pardon me, but I thought all our peace envoys were turned back with demands for unconditional surrender. What makes Operation Gift Horse different?”
“If you are unconvinced of the operation’s value, you’re welcome to return to the star front,” Marshal Dhahabu said.
I quickly shook my head. “Any hope’s better than none. After New Melbourne, I can’t see how we can win this war by force of arms, and one more subaltern won’t stop the Imperial armies.”
“Well something has,” Marshal Dhahabu, suddenly all business, said. “Eighty-four standard hours ago, Imperial forces were advancing on all fronts, a general assault following New Melbourne’s collapse. Eighty-three hours ago, all Imperial armies halted.”
“In the Novo Australis sector?” I asked.
