“Yes. I’ve heard things… I didn’t tell you earlier because as far as I’m concerned it’s utter rot. Word of a winged demon has been passing across the lips of idiots. It started when news of the Fire Eater’s escape became public. Supposedly, the first sighting was in Comman Dur on the day the prisoner escaped. Since then, there have been dozens more sighting across the realm.”

“Do any of the witnesses describe this ‘winged demon’?”

“Not in detail. Cloaked in darkness. Batlike wings. Snatching children from their beds. Et cetera. But you know how these stories grow wings of their own.”

“Hmm,” was the king’s only response, though Tomas could tell the unexpected bit of news was weighing on him. He doesn’t believe it’s just idle gossip, he thought, incredulous at the realization. His father could be frustratingly superstitious at times, but even for him this was bordering on the absurd. “Thank you, lieutenant. That is all.”

The soldier bowed. “Should I return to my usual posting?”

Briggs tried to hide it, but Tomas saw the bulge in his neck as he swallowed thickly. A gulp of fear. “No,” the king said, drawing out the moment of suspense like a held breath. The soldier was, in fact, holding his breath, his cheeks growing redder by the second as he awaited his fate. The king put him out of his misery while simultaneously sending him to his misery. “You’ll report to Nal Eston with haste.”

As murmurs arose from the gallery, all color leached from his cheeks until he was as pale as the ghost he’d accused the King’s Blade of being. “For how long, Your Majesty?”

King Vedran drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Until I say otherwise.”

“I have a family, Your Majesty,” the man blurted out.

“Duty is your only family now. Now go.”

To his credit, Briggs managed a reasonably good bow before turning and departing the way he’d come. When they were alone again, Tomas said, “Wasn’t that a little harsh, Father? The life expectancy for a new recruit at Nal Eston is just a little over three months, and it’s only that long because the first three months are comprised of training behind the walls of the fortress.”

The king glanced at him sharply. “Our people only respect us because they fear us. Would you have me coddle them?”

“Of course not, but don’t some situations call for a degree of…”

His father’s eyes narrowed.

“Never mind,” Tomas said. Speaking of subtleties to his father was like trying to teach a brick wall to be softer. “I’ll have the treasury prepare a modest stipend for his family.”