12. Sage

CHAPTER 12

Sage

The fae who'd rescued me wasn't as beautiful as Lord Quill. His face was squarer, more rugged and rough, and he had three silvery white scars running across the bridge of his nose and halfway across his left cheek as if he hadn't been fast enough to get completely out of the way of one of those monster's claws. His gaze was hard, filled with a simmering anger, but there was still something breathtaking about him. Perhaps that was just because he was fae. The tales said all of his kind were mesmerizing and so far, I couldn't disagree.

His dark hair — it could have been brown or black, it was hard to tell in the flickering torchlight — had a streak of white or silver running from his left temple, the lack of color a shocking contrast to the rest of his hair. It was longer than Lord Quill's, but still only reached his shoulders and wasn't the long hair the tales all claimed fae had. He'd pulled half of it back in a topknot, exposing his long and delicately pointed ears, and he wore the same black leather armor as Lord Quill had. But instead of a sheath for his sword and two daggers, he had that and half a dozen more daggers of various lengths strapped to his body.

His gaze raked down me and I shivered in fear. Did he know I was a girl? Had I failed before I'd even started?

Then his eyes narrowed and I realized he was staring at my arm with the binding spell. Could all fae see the spell?

No, if they could Lord Quill would have known I'd taken Sawyer's place and would have stopped me before I'd gotten this far.

Which meant whoever this fae was, he could either control the spell or was important enough that he was able to see or sense it.

"And they're now sending me children, years away from shaving." He swung out of the saddle and handed the reins to a human man with sharp brown eyes and light brown skin the same shade as most of the people in Herstind March. He was probably only a few years older than me — my real age of twenty not Sawyer's fifteen — and he wore the same black armor as the fae who'd save me. "Congratulations, Vyell. Your evening stable shift has been cut in half for the rest of your rotation. This idiot here will take your first half of the shift after the evening meal."

"Yes, Lord Commander," Vyell said.

The fae, the Lord Commander of the Black Guard, turned his attention back to me. "You're also getting the full stable shift in the morning, too. Report to the stable at the second bell. You'll muck the stalls, day and night, until you're no longer stupid."

He turned and marched across the bailey toward an enormous building that towered wide, dark, and imposing, half shrouded in shadows and mist despite the many torches around us.

"Well lucky you," the other rider said to Vyell as he dismounted and handed over his reins. "A little extra lieu time."

The man, Vyell, flashed him a huge smile and led the horses off to a long one-story building that took up most of the left-hand side of the bailey, leaving me with just the other rider.

He was human as well with shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, a deep tan, and was older than me by probably ten or fifteen years. His face was hard, all sharp lines, and his jaw had a heavy dusting of dark stubble, making him look rougher than — although not as dangerous as — the Lord Commander. But there was also a softness to his gaze that the Lord Commander hadn't had.

His lips quirked and his gaze dipped down my body, making me want to hug myself and hide. "I think you can put those away."

"I can what—?" I snapped my mouth shut and cleared my throat, my pulse leaping in a quick tattoo again. I needed to remember to lower my voice and speak gruffly. Not saying anything would probably be safest, but I doubted I'd be able to get away with that, especially if I was going to be in the Tower for more than a few days.

The man pulled a cloth from a pocket sewn into his jerkin and held it to me. "You should probably clean them first, though. Shadow blood is nasty stuff."

"Clean them—?" I asked as gruffly as I could. And jeez, why couldn't I get a full sentence out?

"Your weapons." He dipped his gaze down my body again and I realized he wasn't looking at me but my hands still clutching my sword and dagger as if my life depended on it.

I tucked my sword under my arm — since I didn't want to sheath it while covered in monster blood — took the offered cloth and wiped my dagger. He took another cloth and cleaned his own blade before sliding it home.

"So," he said as I sheathed my dagger and wiped my sword. "Are you arrogant to think you could use the ring after sunset or just stupid?"

So much for thinking that softness in his gaze said he was less pissed off at me than the Lord Commander.

"Not everyone knows you shouldn't enter the Gray after sunset." And it had barely been sunset when I'd left. I hadn't expected full night when I'd stepped through the ring.

"So, you're a noble who never thought his name would be called." He jerked his chin and headed toward the monstrous building at the back of the bailey. "Well, you're not a lord now. You're a grunt like the rest of us and you'd be wise to learn that quickly."

"Yes, my lord," I mumbled, the submissiveness Edred had beaten into me over the last eight years kicking in on instinct, and I hunched my shoulders, trying to look smaller and less… well, less like me, because Edred never liked how I looked, and being smaller and nonconfrontational had saved me from a number of beatings.

"I'm not a lord. Only the Lord Commander and the captains of the Gold Tower, White Tower, and Shadow Guard are lords." He glanced at me, his eyes narrowing, and I realized I was acting like a woman and not a boy. Sawyer had always stood straight and met Edred's gaze even when the Marquis was yelling at him.

I forced myself to straighten and meet his gaze. "How should I address you?"

"Grefin."

"Just Grefin?" I asked, as we drew closer to the enormous building.

"Don't let it break your feeble mind, noble. The only things you learned in your old life that are useful are how well you swing your sword, how to shoot a bow, and how to fight from horseback," he said. "The Lord Commander doesn't care how well you can dance, which fork you're supposed to use, or if you know how to properly address a duke, a baron, or a princess."

We reached a wide set of steps leading up to a pair of massive doors that most likely opened to the great hall. The building was made of enormous stone blocks and towered four-stories high with thick crenellations at the top barely visible through the mist.

To my right was a squat building that didn't appear attached to the main building made of a strange semi-opaque material that could only be something made by the fae. It glowed a soft white, blending in with the mist around us, and I could see hints of strange shadows inside that thankfully didn't move.

Grefin headed left, away from the glowing building and the wide steps. He marched me to a part of the building that looked like it had sections jutting out from it — although it was hard to tell since there was less torchlight on this side of the structure. Light glowed between the cracks of dozens of shutters at random intervals. There were a few in a row, then nothing, then one or two more, but it suggested that all three stories were covered in windows.

"The quartermaster has already retired for the day and I'm not going to bother him just for you. You can get your gear after the midday meal with the rest of the novices."

"Yes, m—" I bit the inside of my cheek.

Grefin snorted. "You must have been last in line to show such deference to just about anyone."

Or I was a woman and was required to show deference to everyone .

He opened a door partially hidden in an alcove. Inside, illuminated by a lantern that glowed yellow like a flame but didn't flicker like one, was a narrow staircase curling up all three floors and down into a cellar, and another door leading into the rest of the building. "Well good news for you. Your birth order doesn't matter here. Prove your skill and even you can be given an elite assignment."

"Elite assignment?" I asked as he led us up the stairs.

"They didn't tell you anything. Or you didn't bother to learn." He stopped at the door at the top of the stairs and glared at me. "Lord Rider doesn't like lazy. Everyone pulls his own weight here, one way or another."

And that one way or another probably involved being given the worst assignments, like mucking out the stalls.

I opened my mouth to argue with him, but snapped it shut. If they wanted to think I was lazy, I'd prove them wrong. If they wanted to think I was stupid, so be it. The whole point of being here was to go unnoticed until Sawyer was safe, and the more time that passed, the safer he'd be.

Grefin's eyes narrowed again, staring me down as if daring me to argue with him.

I fought to maintain eye contact, but it made my pulse race. Women didn't stare men down. They lowered their gaze and complied with whatever they were told.

"Definitely bottom of the pack," Grefin huffed, and he opened the door.