The Empress peered at the guardsman before her through dark, appraising eyes, her chin resting thoughtfully on the back of laced fingers painted pink in the light of the Council chamber.

  “I have already been made aware of all those details which you seem eager to remind me,” she said in a tone devoid of any amusement. “What I should like to know is what might have motivated your decision, as head of the detachment, to press through the crowd rather than see to its disbandment.”

  Cedric shifted uneasily, the perspiration from his temples sliding down past his ears and disappearing into his gorget.

  The party returning from Silkeborg had only recently arrived and had not been back at Kriftel above an hour before the guardsman had been summoned to the Council chambers. The poor man had not had time to so much as remove his plate before being made to stand trial before the Empress and all her Council, to answer for their disastrous passage along the eastern byway.

  “I understand that two hundred men may not seem a great many, Your Majesty,” Cedric said, “but disbanding a protest peaceably is no simple task, and with hundreds more on the way, as was the case, by word of outriders, we were like to be outnumbered before the matter could be dealt with civilly.”

  The Empress sat listening, apparently unmoved by his remarks.

  “And do you find that the matter was dealt with civilly?” she asked wryly. But to this, the guardsman made no reply. “I am told you were two miles from Hallovie when this encounter occurred,” the Empress continued, removing her elbows from the table and taking a sip of wine from her chalice. “Did you not think to send word, to enlist the aid of their city guard?”

  Cedric once again shifted his weight, and even from where she sat in the corner of the room, Mouse could see the nervous twitch that pulsed at his temple in the heavy silence that awaited his answer.

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” he replied, “the idea did cross my mind. But—” He hesitated.

  “Please, Cedric, do go on,” drawled the Empress. “You have me practically on the edge of my seat.”

  The guardsman pressed his lips together, setting his mouth in a line.

  “I am afraid I cannot account for why I abandoned the notion, Your Majesty,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose I did not think it would reflect well upon the guard.”

  “Is that so?” asked the Empress, studying the man through narrowed eyes. “That is rather a paltry excuse. I wonder if it is the same one you offered Sir Hugo.”

  Cedric, for all his apparent endeavor to maintain his composure, burned red under the accusation.

  “There is nothing I regret more than what happened to Sir Hugo,” he said. “But let there be no mistake, Your Majesty, those men were in no way connected with the protest. They were sent by Ralist with the express purpose of causing injury and more likely death, and there is little we might have done to—"

  “It does not matter who sent them,” the Empress said, interrupting the guardsman. “They had motives for what they did, certainly, but it was you, Cedric, who gave them opportunity.”

  The room fell so silent now that had a crumb dropped to the floor, it would have been heard by all. The humane thing would have been to interview the man in private, to give him the chance to defend his actions where he was not under the scrutiny of so many unconnected to the event, but of course the Empress did not care about doing what was humane; to her, the more public the humiliation, the better.

  Red as he was, it was impossible to tell whether the guardsman was governed more by anger or guilt, and from where Mouse sat, he was justified in both.

  “Trouble has very little difficulty finding those who run headlong into it,” she said. “Now, a wiser man than yourself might have suspected something as soon as he was forced off the main road to the byway and subsequently proceeded with due caution.” She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the man before her, whose eyes had fallen to the floor. “How you managed to so misjudge the situation is well beyond my understanding,” she said, “and how I managed to misjudge you so thoroughly even more so.”

  Mouse could see the lump in Cedric’s throat as he swallowed.

  “I have disappointed you, Your Majesty,” he said. “I have disappointed my men, and I have disappointed myself.”

  “I am glad that there is at least one thing we can agree upon,” the Empress murmured, taking another sip of wine and replacing her chalice upon the table. “Now, before you leave,” she said, folding her hands onto her lap, “is there anything further you should wish to tell me?”

  Cedric drew up his shoulders and straightened his back.

  “Throughout the whole, the men of the guard, along with those knights recovered from Pothes Mar, conducted themselves with the utmost valor and decency. They showed every restraint in the face of provocation, resulting in only a small number of injuries, and spared the entire village when lesser men would not have. For whatever worth my word may still hold, they demonstrated exemplary behavior, one and all, and should be commended for it.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  A smile tugged at the Empress’s lips.

  “Consider your remarks noted,” she said. “Is there nothing else?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Cedric said.

  “Then I, Idalia Aemilia Toth, hereby dismiss you, Cedric LeRoi, not only from this interview, but from my service. Your record will reflect what has transpired in the duration of your service and all actions and decisions taken in your brief time as head of the guard. You will be removed from all eligibility to ever again serve in the royal guard of Aros. However, if you should you wish to seek employment in the army, you may do so as a footman.”

  The guardsman stood wordlessly before her.

  “A footman, Your Majesty?” Lord Rambert broke in, the first of the Council to speak since the guardsman had appeared before them all. “Are you certain that is fitting for a man of Cedric’s station?”

  “He should be glad that he is not under investigation for murder,” the Empress said without removing her eyes from the guardsman. “I hear that his men killed one of Sir Hugo’s assailants before the man could be properly detained and questioned.”

  “Your Majesty,” protested Cedric, no longer able or willing to disguise his indignation, “the man died in the course of his arrest as a result of his own violent behavior. Is it not the duty of the guard to—”

  “The duty of the guard is whatever I say it is,” said the Empress, her voice rising. “Now, I urge you to silence, lest you forget yourself and that grace which I have recently extended to you.”

  Mouse bit her lip. The Empress’s judgement was not entirely unfounded; Cedric had been hasty in his decision to push through the protest, and had he demonstrated greater discretion, Ralist’s plot against Sir Hugo may have failed. But the more likely outcome was that the murderous plot would have only been stalled until another opportunity presented itself, and whatever the course, Mouse could not help but feel—and she did not believe herself alone in the sentiment—that the punishment did not fit the crime.

  “You may notify the Captain yourself of your resignation,” said the Empress, dismissing the guardsman with a nod.

  Cedric stood silently before the Council for a moment, his stony face fallen, before bowing and exiting the room. The Empress’s eyes followed the guardsman until the door swung shut behind him.

  “Now then,” she said, looking across at her Councilors, “where were we? Something about which one of those Han bastards will be riding down the end of a point-tipped lance, was it?”

  Mouse stood on the parapet, where she had come in search of the Captain, staring out at the line of wagons that had formed outside the city gates. It was already more than half a mile long, and the start of the Feast was still some three weeks away.

  Or was it now only two? she wondered as she counted the carts one by one.

  Many were likely carrying provisions of wine and cheese to pad the cellars, grain to be ground and baked into dreg cakes while others were likely carrying wares to be sold at market, wooden spoons and bolts of cloth, blankets and nails and fletching.

  The livestock would of course be taken on a different road, toward the east of the capital, where it would await its slaughter.

  “I am glad to see you returned safely, my lady,” a voice said, startling Mouse and causing her to lose her count. She turned to see Ulrich approaching, his honey-colored curls tucked behind his ears as he strode toward her.

  Seeing him now, Mouse realized that her grudge against him had softened little with time, and she quickly resigned from trying to force a smile at him.

  “I know you have many demands on your time, Captain,” she said, “and so I shall endeavor to make myself brief.” Ulrich’s hazel eyes contemplated her as he waited for her to continue. “I have come, as you may have guessed, to inquire into the well-being of Jasper, the stable boy.”

  The Captain bowed his head in understanding.

  “I am glad to report that the boy is safe,” the Captain replied, “and as well cared for as can be expected.”

  Mouse allowed herself a sigh of relief.

  “And what of his release?” she asked, her heart lifting in a tenuous kind of hope. But the Captain held his silence a moment too long, and already before he could answer, Mouse felt the disappointment swelling within her.

  “His pardon will come in time, I trust,” the Captain said.

  Mouse shook her head, her disappointment turning to frustration.

  “And until then?” she asked, a hint of anger in her voice. “Will he be left to rot in a cell somewhere?”

  Ulrich considered her with an unflinching gaze.

  “Jasper is in good keeping,” the Captain said, “and out of harm’s way. I am afraid that is all I can tell you.”

  Mouse pressed her lips together. She understood that Ulrich had always conducted himself with a certain degree of reserve; it was not simply his position, it was his nature. And while she normally did not mind it so much, in this instance, she found it particularly infuriating. He knew that Jasper was innocent, and he knew how much it meant to Mouse that he was proven such.

  “Is there really nothing more you can tell me?” she asked.

  But the Captain only shook his head. Mouse wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, to make him tell her everything, but instead, she looked away, returning her gaze to the line of wagons outside the city gates.

  Perhaps it was not just the Captain she was frustrated with. Perhaps she was frustrated with herself. She thought back to how terrible she had felt when she first learned of Jasper’s arrest, the guilt, the fear of what might happen to him as a result of her foolishness.

  And to her surprise, she thought of Cedric, of how horrible she had felt sitting there watching him be scolded and humiliated in front of the Council. Why had she not said anything? Why had she not come to his defense? If she did not believe him deserving of the punishment handed down so carelessly, why had she done nothing?

  “Well,” she said at last to the Captain. “I suppose I should thank you for seeing to his safety.”

  She turned to face the man. He looked tired, she realized now. His face seemed somehow worn and drawn, and the lines around his eyes appeared deeper than before.

  “You need not thank me for doing my duty,” he replied. “But is it too much to ask that you put a little faith in me?”

  Mouse blinked at the Captain, taken aback by the question. His gaze had softened somehow, and Mouse found herself searching his eyes as she had before, convinced that something was hidden there, something that might be spelled out in the flecks of gold that circled his irises.

  “No,” she said. “No, I suppose it is not.”