Casket of Souls

risks today, and it’s not the first time since word of his father’s arrest came. I saw him outride his squadron today, and head straight into a line of enemy pike men.”
    “Ah.” Nyal plucked a strand of wind-sere grass and twirledit between long fingers. “You think he’s trying to prove his honor through a valiant death?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Has the commander noticed?”
    “I don’t know. I’m going to keep an eye on him.”
    “I think you should speak with him, before it’s too late.”
    In the past Danos had never been hard to find in camp; he was always at one fire or another with his people, laughing and praising. Tonight, however, Beka had to ask the way to his tent.
    He was outside, currying his horse by the light of a lantern. Perhaps that had been Caem’s job. Beka had never taken on a servant, but Danos was a noble, and used to such things. All the same, she doubted that accounted for his morose expression. He didn’t cheer up at the sight of her stepping into the light.
    “I suppose you’ve come to tell me to be more careful, too,” he said, facing her across the horse’s back. “Anri was just here.”
    “Did it do any good?” Beka smoothed a hand down the bay’s dusty withers. “We can’t afford to lose you, you know. Killing yourself is no different than desertion.”
    Danos let out a humorless laugh as he brushed harder at his horse’s side, raising a small cloud of dirt and horsehair. “You certainly don’t honey your words.”
    “You’re a good man, Danos, and a good friend. I don’t want to lose you.”
    “You’ve heard the news about my father. Everyone has. Disgraced. Stripped of his title and lands. Exiled. What is there for me to go back for? What would you have me do? Become a caravan guard, or perhaps a professional gambler? Those are the extent of my marketable skills.”
    “Horse shit. You’re intelligent, you have friends and your own fortune and holdings. Those haven’t been taken away, have they?”
    Danos shrugged. “So, from the scion of one of the most respected and powerful families in Rhíminee, to a country knight. How would you feel about that, if it were you?”
    “My father is a country knight,” Beka reminded him with a smile. “It’s not so bad.”
    “Do you really think I care so little for my officers?” asked a familiar voice. Beka and Danos both fell to one knee, fist to heart, as Queen Phoria stepped into the light to join them. She’d taken off her cuirass and crowned helm, but still wore her field uniform with the royal flame and crescent moon insignia on the breast; chain mail glinted at the neck of her tunic. Klia was with her, her uniform stained in dark patches with blood.
    “My sister tells me that you have been taking extravagant risks in battle,” Phoria continued.
    Danos bowed his head in silence.
    Klia started to order him up, but Phoria stopped her, then placed her gloved hand on his head. “The truth knower determined your innocence, Captain Danos. Your father confessed to using you in his machinations, but insisted that you were not a conspirator.”
    “Under torture?” Danos said bitterly, without looking up.
    “There was no need. Once arrested, he confessed willingly to the conspiracy. That is why I instructed my brother the vicegerent to exile him, rather than execution. His title and lands are yours by right, and you shall have them, if you don’t go getting yourself killed.”
    “Your Majesty is kind and generous,” Danos replied softly, “but how do I erase the stain on my birthright? How do I quell the whispering that’s sure to follow me for the rest of my days?”
    Phoria snorted at that. “Hold your head up and show them differently, of course. Most people will forget in a season, and those who don’t aren’t worth your consideration.”
    Danos looked up not at the queen, but at Klia. “And can you look past my father’s machinations against you? Against your very life?”
    “I know the man you are, Captain,” she replied. “There is evidence that your father was coerced to some extent by Marquis Kyrin, who held certain information against him. But regardless of that, your father’s sins are not your own.Whatever the reason, he used you and your position to his own advantage. If anyone should be angry, it’s you.”
    The young man’s eyes glimmered in the lantern light. “The father I knew was a good, kind man.”
    “And an ambitious one,” said the queen. “Learn