Free The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer Page A

hard. How could he think such things? It was as if there was a voice inside him, questioning his questions.
    He shook himself. Did he not have the right to query the things he swore to? No, the voice told him. He had already sworn. Service questioned was no service at all.
    â€œWatch out!”
    Eamon looked up just in time to have his nose hit by the mane of a passing horse. A Gauntlet messenger cast a dark look down from the saddle as he rode by, muttering curses.
    Eamon folded his arms deeply into his jacket and carried on up the steps. He forwent the liberty of aiming a well-kicked stone at man and horse.
    â€œYou look particularly dapper and grippingly miserable this morning, Eamon!” called a cheerful voice.
    Raising his head Eamon saw Ladomer leaning on one of the columns. The lieutenant was already sweaty and dishevelled from a couple of hours of swordplay. Eamon smiled. He had borne enthusiasm like Ladomer’s once, though hardly so well.
    â€œLadies like a young man in uniform,” he replied. “Why else do you think I joined but to look dapper?”
    â€œYou joined because you knew it was the right thing to do,” Ladomer answered. “I bet that they already have you marked out for the Hands,” he added, sheathing his sword and bowing with a courtier’s finesse. “Your record is exemplary.”
    â€œHave you already forgotten the other night? Don’t be daft, Ladomer,” Eamon replied, giving him a none-too-gentle whack on the arm. “They’ll look at you for a Hand before ever they look at me – and if they set us side by side then I think I would fare far the worse for standing next to you.” He continued walking; Ladomer bounded up to his side with a delighted grin.
    â€œMe, join the Hands?” he laughed loudly. “Oh, I would like to, Eamon, but do you really think black would suit me?”
    Eamon looked at him. Notwithstanding the ridiculous and arrogant pose that Ladomer had adopted for his Handiness to be judged, Eamon nodded. “I think it would,” he answered. “You are a better man than I.”
    â€œI shall never be noticed in Edesfield,” Ladomer said sadly. “That’s why I try to get out of it as often as I can. But you!” He took hold of Eamon’s shoulder with a smile. “You are going to Dunthruik. Black would suit you.”
    â€œI don’t think it would.” Suddenly he grasped what Ladomer had said. “Going to Dunthruik? Where did you hear –?”
    Ladomer’s face creased with mirth. “There’s some interesting talk in the officers’ mess.”
    â€œThere is?” Eamon gaped.
    â€œYou know the officers, Eamon. We hear about things, like placements ,” Ladomer put peculiar emphasis on the word, “before they are officially announced – sometimes our opinions are sought on the matter. Not that we’re supposed to discuss it. We’re not supposed to discuss impending promotions, either,” he added with an ever-increasing grin.
    Even if Ladomer hadn’t been smiling, the oddly delighted shift in his tone would have alerted Eamon to some hidden message. His jaw dropped. “Promotions?” he stammered.
    â€œSeems that Captain Belaal might be thinking of elevating a couple of ensigns to lieutenants.”
    Eamon frowned. “Isn’t that supposed to happen at the same time as the swearing-in?” he asked haltingly.
    â€œYes. But there are a few protocols in place for elevating men outside of swearing ceremonies.”
    â€œYou mean, Belaal just pins an extra badge on someone’s throat?”
    â€œAnd says something meaningful while he’s doing it,” Ladomer grinned. “That’s more or less it, yes.”
    â€œSo who are these lucky men?”
    The lieutenant’s grin grew broader. “Interesting talk is never as precise as that, Mr Goodman.”
    Their footfalls echoed in the college