Free Reader and Raelynx by Sharon Shinn

don’t know. The Riders took him for questioning. I don’t know what else they’ve learned from him.”
    Her face was thoughtful. “And they don’t ask you to sit in when they—question—someone? I would think you would be particularly useful in situations like that.”
    He looked away. “No. When there’s too much pain or fear, that’s all I can feel. I can’t block it out. I can’t hear underlying truths.”
    She was silent a moment. Then, “That’s good to know. I would hate to think of you being called in to assist a torturer.”
    He glanced back at her. “I think maybe it’s a weakness on my part. Why should I care if someone who’s cruel or villainous experiences a little pain in turn? But, really, I can’t stand it.”
    “I don’t think it’s a weakness at all,” she said. “I think it’s a strength. But then, my own strengths are peculiar.”
    That certainly invited the next obvious question— What do you consider your strengths? —but he didn’t get a chance to ask. “Amalie, come listen to this,” Valri called, and Senneth waved them over. They joined the other women, and talk about bloodlines and marriages recommenced, and Cammon was once again very bored.
    Or would have been, if he hadn’t spent the entire time reviewing his conversation with the princess. Who wanted him to be her friend. And who considered herself peculiar. And whom he would have the honor of defending by magic at least for the foreseeable future.
    Life looked to be very interesting for the next few weeks.

    I N fact, life was fairly dull for the next few days, but that was mostly because Amalie was nowhere in it.
    Milo, now, Milo had quickly become a fixture of Cammon’s existence. The steward, no doubt alerted by Senneth, came to Cammon’s room that first evening and assessed the clothing that Jerril had boxed up and sent over.
    “No,” he said, and pointed, and a team of footmen carried off every last stitch. They did leave behind one pair of boots, but even those did not impress Milo. “You may wear those, but not inside the palace,” he said. A tailor had accompanied the steward, and he now took comprehensive measurements of Cammon’s body, swore that he could produce a new wardrobe in two days, and hurried off.
    “What will I wear tomorrow, then?” Cammon said.
    “I am having the laundresses wash and iron some uniforms that belonged to men who served here previously,” Milo said majestically. “They will be brought to you. I believe I have gauged your size with at least as much accuracy as you have managed to do when you commissioned your own clothing in the past.”
    Cammon couldn’t help but laugh at that. He could tell Milo was genuinely scandalized, and over clothes ! Something that didn’t even matter ! “Mostly I just put on whatever happens to be around,” he said.
    “Yes,” Milo said, “so I surmised.”
    It became clear that Milo also planned to control Cammon’s access to Amalie. “Every morning you will present yourself to me—suitably attired—and I will inform you if the princess will have need of you that day, and when,” said Milo. “If she does not, you may consider yourself free until the early afternoon, then check with me again, in case plans have changed. The king would like you to be in attendance at all dinners that feature any guests, which means all dinners for at least the next two weeks. You may eat with the footmen in the kitchen before meals. Someone will bring you bathing water every morning. Make sure you use it. Someone will bring wood for your fire, but you will be expected to make it yourself.”
    And so on. Cammon felt himself quickly growing out of charity with Milo, though he knew Kirra and Senneth both were fond of the royal steward. Then again, the steward had probably never treated them like servants. Well, anybody who treated Kirra or Senneth like a servant would very quickly be sorry.
    The thought made Cammon grin and instantly restored his usual