Casket of Souls

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    Beka knew better than to hesitate in speaking out against the sergeant, regardless of what she owed him; she owed Klia far more. “It was one of Anri’s sergeants, a man named Werneus.”
    “Have one of your trusted riders bring him to me, but don’t tell Werneus where he’s being taken. And you stay with your squadron. I don’t want you associated with this, or Nyal.”
    “Werneus is likely to guess why, since it was me who spoke to him about it.”
    “That can’t be helped. You’re dismissed.”
    “Thank you, Commander.” With a final salute, Beka took her leave.
    Myrhini had known Klia a long time and could tell when her friend was angry, even with the princess doing her best to hide it.
    “It could just be an overabundance of loyalty, Klia.”
    “One that could get me executed. And Danos?” Her anger was clearly tinged with hurt.
    “I’ve never had cause to doubt him. Maybe you should bring this to the queen yourself.”
    “I will, when I have more proof. Seregil and Alec are working on it in Rh
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minee, thank the Four. And Thero, of course.”
    “Of course.” Grinning, Myrhini clasped her friend’s shoulder and gave her a friendly shake. “Then you have the best of the best working in your favor.”
    “I just hope they work quickly.”
    Beka found her husband at a watch fire with some of Danos’s riders.
    “Nyal, a word?” she said, stepping into the firelight.
    This elicited, as always, a fair amount of ribbing and whistling, but they were used to it and took it with good humor.
    The Aurënfaie waved and grinned over his shoulder, but waited until they were away from the light to slip an arm around her waist. “Talía,” he whispered in his own language, “I looked for you but couldn’t find you. Someone said you’d been called to the commander’s tent.”
    “Yes. We need to talk.” She kissed him as they walked across the trampled battlefield toward a stand of trees near the edge of the encampment. Beka skirted it, checking for nearby pickets, then led him into the trees and told him all that had passed between her and Klia.
    “I’ve heard muttering, but nothing treasonous,” Nyal told her.
    “Be especially careful around Danos and his troop,” she warned. “Bring anything the slightest bit suspicious to Klia at once.”
    “I’m always careful, talía.” Nyal took her in his arms and kissed her again. He was tall for a ’faie, and her head was level with his shoulder. He smelled of leather and horses, as she did herself.
    Beka ran her fingers through his long hair, chuckling at the tangles there. He did the same with her thick red hair, and the feeling of those long fingers caressing her scalp sent a shiver of need through her. It had been weeks since they’d found the time to be alone together. Time was short and life was uncertain. She didn’t want to waste such a rare moment, and neither did he. She wore a pessary as a matter of course, as all the female soldiers did—not only so they could indulge in pleasure without getting a round belly, but in case of rape in the field. The little hank of wool soaked in oil worked well. In the shadow of the trees, moving only as much clothing as was absolutely necessary, they made hurried, silent love, groaning into each other’s mouths as they came together.
    Sergeant Werneus looked suitably uneasy as he ducked under Klia’s tent flap and went down on one knee before her. “You sent for me, Commander?”
    Myrhini stepped behind him, guarding the door.
    “Yes,” said Klia. “At attention, rider.”
    Werneus, a grizzled warrior at least two decades her senior, stood stiffly, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on a spot just over her shoulder.
    “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors, Sergeant. Rumors involving me.”
    Werneus said nothing, but she caught a flash of alarm in his eyes.
    “Speak, Sergeant!” she ordered.
    “It’s just soldiers’ talk, Commander.”
    “About what?”
    A muscle flexed in the man’s stubbled jaw. “Just talk, Commander, about what it might be like if you was in charge of the regiment, that’s all.”
    “Just the regiment?” Klia narrowed her eyes. “I heard that some might want me to be queen.”
    The man went paler still under the scruff and grime. “That’d be talking treason against Queen Phoria, Commander!”
    “You were heard, man.”
    Werneus stiffened. “There’s talk, but it’s only wishful thinking, Commander. All the riders love you. We’d follow you to