Jackal Among Snakes

“Your Majesty…” Grimalt began, prompting Argrave to look into his amber eyes. “Why exactly am I here?”

The Veidimen officer was clearly uncomfortable in this luxury carriage—not that Argrave felt much different. But it seemed to bother him he was with Elenore, Argrave, Anneliese, Galamon, Melanie, and Orion—he felt his status was not up to snuff, evidently.

Argrave looked out the window of the carriage. “Did no one tell you, or does the marching army outside not give it away? There are a few other stops we’ll be making first, but I promised the Stonepetal Sentinels that I would send aid to secure the Low Way of the Rose, permanently. Galamon thought that some of the men should taste real battle in a challenging place,” Argrave pointed to his knight-commander, who nodded in confirmation. “The Low Way will be a vital line of trade between Vasquer and the Burnt Desert. You should be the one to lead the army into their first battle. This is a royal tour of sorts, to announce to the realm that I’m still present.”

“I understand that part, Your Majesty. But perhaps I ought to be… outside, marching with the men.” Grimalt gestured out the window. “The other officers are.”

Argrave scrutinized the warrior. Grimalt kept his head shaved, but Argrave could faintly see white hair emerging.

He relaxed his back against the upholstery and said, “We had a conversation a long while ago in the Bloodwoods. As I recall, you said that you were good at discerning people’s emotions.”

Grimalt nodded understandingly, but Anneliese came to closer attention.

“I thought Your Majesty may have forgotten about that,” Grimalt admitted. “But perhaps you ought to have. I am uncertain about putting it to greater use than I already am. It helps me lead your men well, but beyond that… what more can I offer?”

“Is it a family thing? Your empathy, I mean,” Argrave continued, and Anneliese turned her head to him, a fed-up look about her face.

“…I cannot say that I’ve asked. But all of my family members have been noted commanders, for what it’s worth.” Grimalt raised his white brows. “Might I inquire what Your Majesty would ask of me?”

“Argrave is merely attempting to learn one of his officers more personally,” Anneliese cut in. “But there are a few other matters to talk about, right?” She looked at Argrave sternly. “You may go, Grimalt.”

Grimalt did not need to be asked again. He left quickly, dismounting from the moving carriage with splendid grace. Once he was gone, Anneliese pulled shut the door.

“What?” Argrave asked her as she stared at him. “Clearly you get what I was driving at.”

Melanie, perhaps the only outsider in the carriage, glanced between the two of them in confusion as they spoke.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but that is unnecessary.” Anneliese shook her head. “Yes, we are probably related somehow. I don’t care to expose that fact. It brings us no benefit.”

can teach you. Maybe someone can explain what exactly happened with Onychinusa—you know, that whole impact you felt after your conversation. You said it faded after helping her, but you really had me worried

nothing, then there is nothing to learn,” she dismissed calmly. She wasn’t angry, but her mind seemed made up. “I do not care to connect with my paternal side. No one that did what my father did

have asked you first. Was probably

“But turmoil is the last thing we need. Perhaps it might not be so after all

knew your dad, Your Highness? I

looked at her. “I was adopted. In adulthood, as a matter

you two be so liberal with that information?” Elenore

loyalties are settled. I do, too,” Argrave grabbed

She seemed embarrassed to be vulnerable, and so quickly interjected, “Seems to have worked out for the both of us, seeing as we’re in a carriage like this with kings and princesses, eh? And

its white cover—this was one of the books that Garm had written before he gave his soul to Durran. His work carried on even now. He pushed the bittersweet

of her

us at the Tower of the Gray Owl, yeah? Castro is quite the looker, and I know you’re a flirt.” Argrave laughed, then leaned up against Anneliese and

#####

blood echoes that Argrave had projected. “Congratulations,

word is reserved for better people,” Argrave scratched the back of

there aren’t that many A-rank spellcasters, not really. Do

that,” Argrave continued dismissing. “I’m

shaking his head. Reminded of something, he turned. “Anyway, while I have you here…” the

then handed it

Dimocles,” Argrave nodded. “What—you know where he

looked at the document, then at Castro.

at the entrances to Blackgard had been instructed to look for people with the blue-green eyes marking him as a polymorph, but no word had come. Dimocles was a player character, and therefore resourceful. Argrave did fear reprisal, but he didn’t let it rule his life. This was the most

spoke of him,” Castro continued. “He spoke of Dimocles’ guillotine, and a shadow

words, but Anneliese quickly deduced, “Perhaps… Erlebnis, and that betrayal. Your apprentice sees what

clarity to his eyes. “I’m not sure how much longer he can last. His visions grow clearer, yet his seizures rise in tandem. I will not extort you—the idea of it repulses me so much, given the burden you shoulder. But… please, tell me if I should give up hope on

desk. An idea came to him that turned his stomach. “I can help you now. But how much risk can

“Risk?” Castro repeated.

Argrave looked out to the balcony. “If we kill the god that gave Ingo the blessing he bears, it’ll dissipate. But… I can’t honestly

quietly digested that. “The