32. Sage

CHAPTER 32

Sage

With that Lord Rider left and Talon and Lord Quill took us on a tour. We headed out the great hall's main doors and stood in the bailey while Talon pointed to the various buildings. The structure by the pasture gate that I had no idea what it was turned out to be an indoor sparring area for when the weather turned bad, and the small building made from the strange semi-opaque material was a fae greenhouse where the healers grew medicinal herbs.

We then marched down a long hall to the infirmary and were greeted by a fae who wasn't in Guard black and looked identical to the fae with the short brown hair and medium brown skin who'd made love to Lark in my dream last night… the dream that hadn't been a dream.

Talon introduced him, and he said something and gestured to the infirmary behind him, but I completely missed everything that was said.

Because he was real.

I'd seen him completely naked, his cock hard and ready, his mouth and hands caressing and teasing Lark along with the other men. He'd had his fingers inside her, made her moan with a pleasure that had awakened my own need and made it blossom into a hot, achy throbbing between my thighs. He'd made love to her mouth while another man had licked and sucked her to climax. He'd?—

Heat burned my face, and I shifted slightly behind one of the larger fae novices to hide myself from the healer. I didn't think he'd recognize me. Neither Lord Rider, Lord Quill, nor Talon had recognized me as the red-haired woman in the garden, and the healer had been completely focused on Lark. But just looking at him reminded me of what I'd done and felt and craved, and that it had all been real.

Then we were marched to the quartermaster's rooms and my pulse picked up even faster. This was the moment where everything could go terribly wrong and they'd discover the truth.

Talon pointed out the large board on the wall by the quartermaster's door with the Guard's shift assignments and Lord Quill helped those who couldn't read find their name and their assignments for our current rotation. Then one by one we stood in front of the quartermaster who stood beside a wide, tall table.

The quartermaster was a gruff old human with an eyepatch and a thick scar running down the side of his face that twisted his upper right lip into a perpetual sneer. He, too, even though he was well past his prime wore a short sword at his hip and two long daggers at his other hip. He looked at our weapons and either proclaimed then adequate or not before running a quick appraising glance over each of us — not even bothering to measure us — and calling out a number. A guardsman standing by would then take whoever it was into a backroom, and they'd return loaded with clothes and boots and armor and weapons — if weapons were required.

As instructed, I unsheathed Sawyer's?—

No, I corrected myself. I guess it was my longsword now not Sawyer's and set it on the table for the quartermaster's inspection. He approved it and approved of my dagger then frowned at me.

"How old are you, boy?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Sixteen," I lied, both on my real age and Sawyer's.

"So still growing. Good. One," he said to the guardsman beside him. "Use the vambraces to keep your hands clear until you can grow into the shirt and just tuck the pants into the boots." The quartermaster's frown deepened. "Best to keep your own boots. I don't think we have anything small enough."

The guardsman led me into a storeroom with rows and rows of shelves and racks and bins stocked with everything: clothes, boots, belts, towels, blankets, soap, weapons of every kind. He piled two shirts, two pants, a heavy jerkin, and a set of vambraces for my forearms then ushered me back to the front room.

Once everyone had their new clothes and armor, we were led to the barracks, told about the individual rooms, the pump and basin, the bathhouse in the basement, and where the laundry bins were. Then we were assigned rooms and told to change and meet in the bailey ready to have our physical abilities assessed.

I quickly changed into a shirt that was indeed too big, but thankfully didn't show the extra fabric flattening my chest when I had it laced all the way up. The pants were also too big in the legs and in the waist and were only being held up by my sword belt. And, of course, the jerkin was too big, hanging low enough on my hips that it made it a little difficult to draw my sword and dagger, and unfortunately since I needed it to hold my pants up, I couldn't set my sword belt lower on my hips for a smoother draw.

I got more than my fair share of looks and snickers when I hurried out of the barracks and even a huff from the Lord Commander who looked, if it was even possible, less impressed with me than before.

"This your first time not being in anything but the best?" Mikel whispered to me, making Durand and the other experienced fighters snicker. "Better get used to it, my lord ."

Had he not seen my ripped jerkin and soiled shirt and pants when we'd been marching through the castle?

But then he wasn't commenting because he was unobservant. He was hoping to embarrass me, put me in my place, remind me that I no longer had the privilege of being called a lord.

Bad luck for him that Edred had already made my lack of privilege clear.

Once everyone had gathered, we were led out the main gate to the far end of the practice fields where two large, jagged boulders jutted from the ground. Beyond lay a wide path that rose on a gentle hill and branched left and right around another bolder.

"The trail has most of the terrain you'll come across on patrol in the Gray," Lord Quill said. "It's mostly rocky, but there are some trees and plants that manage to grow here. The path is magically protected from the shadows, but you might still encounter wildlife. Most of the wildlife is harmless."

"So," Rider barked. "Get running. Once around the path. The sooner you finish, the longer rest you have before we assess your archery skills."

We all hurried to the entrance, with me and a couple of the fae at the front only because we'd been closest to the entrance.

"Take the righthand path," Talon called out just before we reached the split.

We went right and crested the hill. The path sloped down sharply and curved around the edge of a rocky outcropping then headed into a forest of twisted, black, scraggly trees that looked half dead.

But ahead, from the vantage of being on top of the hill, I could see more rocky, scraggly, jagged, gray land with mist curling around rocks and tree trunks, and beyond, wreathed in mist, stood the enormous, towering Shadow Gate.

It was closer than I'd expected, although the whole point of the Black Tower was to guard the Gate in the event it opened again. The overcast sky seemed to crowd down, and I knew exactly why this place was called the Gray. Everything was gray and damp and drab, and I had a feeling it was always like this or worse.

A shiver slid down my spine at the blatant reminder of where I was.

One of the fae behind me bumped my shoulder, jostling me out of his way as he ran down the hill, and I realized that I'd stopped to stare at the Gray when I should have been running.

I tore my attention away from the Shadow Gate, took a few jogged stepped along the path but another fae bumped me, then another.

"We know what you did," one of them hissed at me as he ran past.

"Mucking out the stables isn't punishment enough for endangering a brother," another said, hitting me hard and sending me stumbling.

"Thought you were too noble for the Guard and didn't bother with the rules?" Mikel sneered, shouldering me out of his way.

My toe caught on the uneven ground and I lost my balance. My shin hit a sharp rock jutting out of the ground at the edge of the path and I tumbled forward, the impact sending agony shooting through my bruised chest as I slid face-first the rest of the way down the path.

"Oh, sorry, my lord ," Durand snickered, and he and Ambrose ran past chuckling.

The rest of the fae and all of the other humans ran past me as well shooting me disgusted or angry looks as I shoved up to my knees, my body throbbing from Edred's beating and a whole morning of shoveling and scrubbing.

The younger of the two heavy-set guys shot me an apologetic look but didn't stop to help me, and so did a couple of the farmers, and it was clear I was on my own. I'd endangered guardsmen last night by using the ring after dark and they didn't feel my current punishment was enough. The question was, would they stop at just knocking me down a rocky hill or was I going to need to sleep with my dagger under my pillow tonight?