"The honor is mine to stand for a fallen friend. Do not worry about His Majesty's machinations. He vastly underestimates how much conniving is involved in the archives. Trust me, monarchs and nobles have nothing on scribes, monks, and nuns when they are bickering over who gets what manuscripts and who is the best at making new copies of the tomes in their keeping." He smiled faintly. "The last time I was at the Golden Apple, a fist fight broke out, and nobody throws a punch like a vexed abbess."
To his delight, Davrin burst into laughter, the kind of open, delighted laugh he seldom showed, let alone so easily. A victory on the battlefields was not nearly as pleasing as being the reason for that laugh. It took everything Cimar possessed not to openly preen.
"Shall we have a drink?" Davrin asked as his laughter faded, leaving behind a smile that Cimar ached to taste. "Then I will let you be on your way to enjoy a good night's rest, since you have a long, arduous road ahead of you."
"A drink sounds wonderful."
Before Davrin could pour them, however, a brisk, commanding knock came at the door. Frowning slightly, Davrin went to answer it—and stepped back a moment later to admit Lady Aliara, Princess Korena's favored lady-in-waiting. On her right arm she wore a thick leather bracer, on which was perched a beautiful white peregrine.
"Milady," Davrin said, sketching her a bow. Cimar rose and did the same, remaining on his feet when she politely rejected Davrin's offer of a seat.
"I come at the bidding of my princess, to offer you a token for your journey, Sir Cimar."
His eyes widened. "Her Highness is granting me use of one of her peregrines?"
Aliara bowed her head in a graceful nod. "Such tokens are well within the boundaries of a challenge, and Her Highness feels it prudent you have an effective means of communication should you find circumstances are as bad as, or even worse than, expected at Castle Bone." She gave a sharp whistle, and the peregrine flew to one of the chairs and perched on the back of it. Removing the leather bracer, she gave it to Cimar. "If there was time, I'd have one made properly for you, but this one is adjustable and should suffice. Her name is Valor, and if you have the time now, I will teach you the commands you'll need."
"I most definitely have the time for that," Cimar said. "My lord, I regret we must share our drink at another time."
Davrin waved the words away. "The drinks will keep. I bid you both a good night."
Once the bracer was in place on Cimar's arm, Aliara gave another whistle—rather a sharp pair of them—and as Cimar lifted his arm the way she instructed, Valor flew straight to it.
"She's beautiful," Cimar said. "Good night, my lord. I look forward to sharing that drink upon my return."
Davrin bowed his head, and Cimar followed Aliara from the room and through the halls to the courtyard where Princess Korena kept and trained her beloved raptors.
A few hours later, well into midnight, he felt reasonably confident in his abilities to at least ensure Valor made it home with vital information should that be necessary. He dragged himself back to his room to get a precious few hours of sleep before he must rise so he and Lee could be on their way when the sun rose.
Thankfully, Lee returned shortly before he rose, saving him a trip into town. As they packed up a few last-minute items, he explained the details of the quest.
"I'm going to have some choice things to say about His Majesty when we're alone in the woods with no one to hear them," Lee hissed as he finished. "This is flagrant abuse and favoritism! He isn't even trying to be subtle."
"You don't have to be subtle when you're nigh untouchable," Cimar replied dryly. "Come on." He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and led the way through the castle and across the yard to the enormous royal stables. Lee must have spoken with them at some point, because all four of the horses they'd need for this journey were ready and waiting. Strapping saddlebags in place, Cimar swung into the saddle, pulled up the hood his cloak, and led the way through the portcullis and over the drawbridge, lowered earlier than usual just for him—and presumably Grayne, though Cimar doubted he'd rise any time soon, if he bothered to begin his quest at all that day.
Once they were beyond the walls, he gave three clear, sharp whistles. A moment later, Valor came soaring toward him and landed on his shoulder like she'd done it a thousand times.
"Well, that will make obtaining food a good sight easier."
Cimar laughed. "Of course you go straight to food and not having to do the hunting yourself."
Lee grinned and began to sing as they headed off. Their goal was to reach the foothills by dark and stable the horses at a reputable tavern in the traverse town there. Once dark had well and truly fallen, Cimar would then shift and fly them the rest of the way to Castle Bone, turning a trip of at least two weeks into one of a matter of hours.
He couldn't wait to see Grayne's face when he returned weeks early and with his shifted form still a secret. If they wanted to win via cheating, they were going to have to work a whole lot harder.
CHAPTER THREE
Davrin had hoped a good night's rest would see him soothed, but when he woke shortly after sunrise he was still fuming about the flagrant mistreatment of his champion—of his challenge. He had not called it lightly, no challenge was ever called lightly, and yet His Majesty was treating it like a game, a silly inconvenience he must endure and wanted over as soon as possible. He wasn't even trying to pretend otherwise.
If His Majesty's selfish apathy caused Cimar to die of the plague—to die, period, as a result of such flagrant favoritism and sabotage—Davrin would teach him how foolish it was to betray a courtier who'd been unfailingly loyal his whole life.
Biting back his anger as he had so many times when locked in discussions with stubborn fools where prejudice and cultural differences made everything ten times harder, Davrin threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed, hastening into the heavy wool dressing robe hanging nearby. Then he stoked the fire and got a pot of tea going.
One of the castle servants would be along shortly with breakfast. Normally, he had a personal manservant to manage such things, but Geoff had recently married and returned with his wife to her farm, and Davrin had not yet had time to replace him.
When breakfast came, he set it and his tea on the table near the fire, feet shoved into thick, fur-lined slippers that did a fairly good job of warding off the bitingly cold stone floor.
Normally he would have five hundred things to do—meetings, negotiations, taking visitors about the city, arranging meetings, and more. But with the challenge called, that was his sole focus, as he could not do anything that might be taken, accidentally or otherwise, as currying favor or otherwise cheating.
Which left him with a pile of correspondence to tackle, some financial matters for his estates, and not much else. He wouldn't see Cimar for at least a month, if all went perfectly, and more if something went wrong. Never again if the quest ended in disaster.
Taking a deep breath, he once more turned his thoughts to other matters. Few they were, but anything was better than brooding and steeping in his own ire.
He'd only just settled into a rhythm with his mountain of correspondence when a soft knock came at his door. Standing, Davrin turned—and stared bemused as a sealed slip of paper was slid under his door. What in the world?