Thranic stared a moment longer at Royce, then pivoted sharply and left them.

“Not exactly the kind of guy you want taking an interest in you, is he?” Wyatt offered.

With the longboat back aboard, the captain appeared on the quarterdeck and ordered a new course—due east, into the wind.

CHAPTER 9

ELLA

Another dispatch from Sir Breckton, sir,” the clerk announced, handing a small scroll to the imperial chancellor. The elderly man returned to the desk in his little office and read the note. A scowl grew across his face.

“The man is incorrigible!” the chancellor burst out to no one, then pulled a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped his quill.

The door opened unexpectedly and the chancellor jumped. “Can’t you knock?”

“Sorry, Biddings, did I startle you?” the Earl of Chadwick asked, entering with his exquisite floor-length cape trailing behind him. He had a pair of white gloves draped over one forearm as he bit into a bright red apple.

“You’re always startling me. I think you get a sadistic pleasure from it.”

Archibald smiled. “I saw the dispatch arrive. Is there any word from the Emerald Storm?”

“No, this is from Breckton.”

“Breckton? What does he want?” Archibald sat in the armchair opposite the chancellor and rested his booted feet on a footstool.

“No matter how many times I tell him to wait and be patient, he refuses to grasp that we know more than he does. He wants permission to attack Ratibor.”

Archibald sighed. “Again? I suppose you see now what I’ve had to put up with all these years. He and Enden are so headstrong I—”

“Were,” the chancellor said, correcting him. “Sir Enden died in Dahlgren.”

Ballentyne nodded. “And wasn’t that a waste of a good man?” He took another bite and, with his mouth still full, went on. “Do you need me to write him personally? He’s my knight, after all.”

“What would help is to be able to tell him why he doesn’t need to attack.”

Archibald shook his head. “Saldur and Ethelred are still insisting on secrecy regarding the—”

The chancellor raised a hand, stopping him. Archibald looked confused and the chancellor pointed at the chambermaid on her knees scrubbing the floor near the windows of his office.

Archibald rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Do you really think the scrub girl is a spy?”

“I’ve always found it best to err on the side of caution. She doesn’t have to be a spy to get you hanged for treason.”

“She doesn’t even know what we’re talking about. Besides, look at her. It isn’t likely she’ll be bragging in some pub. You don’t go out at night boasting in bars, do you, lass?”

Ella shook her head and refused to look up, so that her brown sweat-snarled hair continued to hang in her face.