Rising, he drew his longsword to mirror Calenne’s and set its pommel touching hers. The blade felt tiny in his hands, but it would have made poor theatre to accidentally decapitate one of the captains with his claymore.

Halvor followed suit. The wobble to her lip told Viktor he had chosen well. Some traditions were stronger than steel. Kurkas’ battered sword joined the circle. Then Lavirn’s. Then Masnar’s. Then the hooked blades of the twins’ axes. On and on, until a ring of unbroken steel topped the flame.

Viktor met Calenne’s gaze once more. The nervousness was still there, but pride held it at bay. She even managed a smile.

“Lumestra shine for us all,” she said.

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Five

The constabulary patrol clomped on, their rhythm tightening as they passed Swanholt. Rosa pressed deeper into the alley’s shadows and stifled a smile. Folk always raised their efforts around an Akadra. Especially Viktor. Why, back at their first meeting – she a squire fresh from the chapterhouse of Essamere, and he the commander of the 7th – there had been . . . something . . . about him that had made her want to do better. To be better.

Though it hurt to recall, she’d been a terrible officer. Too sure of herself. Too ready to scorn advice. And then there had been that dreadful day out past the village of Rackan. A dozen dead – the sergeant who’d warned her of the ambush among them. Others had wanted to send her back to the chapterhouse. Viktor alone had argued for her. What she’d made of herself since, she owed to him.

And now she was about to betray him.

“Didn’t think you were the type for an illicit alleyway rendezvous.” Sevaka’s breath brushed warm against her neck. “But I’m not wholly against the idea.”

Rosa winced. Too lost in thought to hear her coming? That didn’t bode well for the night’s labours. “Didn’t know the navy taught sneaking about.”

She sniffed. “We’re not all club-footed webbies. Learned this in the city, flitting from bedchamber to bedchamber.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

“I’m sure I’m not going to tell you.” She folded her arms. “Well? What’s all this about?”

Rosa hesitated, but the time for doubts was long in the past. “I was thinking about what you said. About proof.”

“Okay . . .” She stared past Rosa’s shoulder to Swanholt. “Your ‘fellow knight’ with feathered wings? You meant Viktor?”

“Yes.”

Sevaka massaged her brow. “And the proof. This is happening now.”

“Viktor’s still away in the Southshires. His father’s . . .”

“His father’s at Freemont. I know.”

“. . . so the house is as empty as it’s likely to get.”

“Empty? You call a dozen servants and fifty hearthguards empty?”

Rosa folded her arms. “Does Hadon strike you as the sort that gives his staff free run of the mansion while he’s away?”