Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 44: A Lecture on Social Etiquette

Music is Passing On by Yiruma. Play it!

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My nerves are high on edge today. Diomedes could come anytime soon, and I don't know where or how. What if his presence poses a danger to the castle dwellers? What if he decides to attack immediately after he knows that we've refused to comply with him? No matter how I try to convince myself that much careful planning has been done, and that we've done all we can to fortify Cordair, I still feel that we're never ready to war against the necromancer. I've seen first-hand how much damage a single ghostly soldier can do; I'd hate to imagine what would happen once a whole army arrives on our doorstep.

Our neighbours aren't help much either: all of them had balked at the idea of facing a ghost army. The proof? When our hawks had finally returned over the past week, all of the attached messages from the rulers had said that they wouldn't provide military support. The messages were scripted in two forms—painfully polite or devastatingly brutal. But the gist was there.

Some leaders did promise to help with supplies though. In fact, a batch of goods should be coming in from Thiruthia. The small country had split from the original Cambiria, but relations with them are still excellent. Other countries were not so forthcoming with their help. And the queen of Ravürk still hasn't replied. Not odd, considering the ridiculous weather the messenger hawks would have to brave.

Fair enough. I doubt that Perinus would help other countries in battle unless they were on extremely good terms with us. Self-preservation before all, in the end.

Gilbert too, is unusually quiet and reserved during our physical training with the knights. So quiet, that he eventually draws the attention of Sir Kendrick. The Bane has finally recovered sufficiently to assist in the soldiers' special training. About time too. Captain Eldric is well worn out by now, evident from the heavy circles lining his eyes every time he barks out an order.

"Squire Falkner, are you all right?" He approaches Gilbert just as we're returning our swords to the stands. Gilbert eyes him warily as a response, barely managing a half-hearted smile.

"I'm tired, but I'll be fine," he replies briefly. It occurs to me that Sir Kendrick isn't asking after me. Probably because I'm already quiet on a daily basis. Unfortunately, I haven't forgotten about the fact that he needs an apprentice, now more than ever. I haven't felt it for a long time—the weight of Father's expectations pressing upon me.

A sour note fills my mouth.

"Well then, remember to take care of yourself. You're a Champion of War, but you have your limits as well." Sir Kendrick gives Gilbert a hearty clap on the shoulder. Then as though he has just noticed my presence, he adds, "You too, Squire Rutherland. You are your father's son. However, even Rutherlands can be pushed past a breaking point."

"I'll take note of that, sir," I answer evenly. It suddenly strikes me that if I'm chosen as his apprentice, I would be a mere shadow to my father. I know it from the way he phrases his words. I don't think it was intentional—it's just that he expects me to live up to my father's name. Everyone does.

My heart plummets to my stomach.

"And I would like to thank the two of you"—he nods at both of us—"for releasing me from Diomedes' possession the other day."

"No thanks needed, sir." I decide to let Gilbert handle the talking. "It was our duty."

"No, you two deserve every bit of my thanks. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive today, and Diomedes would have infiltrated so deeply into the court that he could topple Perinus from the inside." Sir Kendrick puts a hand over his heart as the words pour out from his mouth. His head is bowed low, a sign of respect. For us. My mouth parts ever so slightly. "I am in debt to the two of you."