The Price Of Command

“Goddess, Kero—I never thought you saw me as that much of a romantic!” He chuckled again, and stole the goblet from her for a sip. “No, I promise you—I like you, but you’re the last woman I’d want to have a liaison with. You’re too damned—outrageous.”

She took another sip, and made a face at him. “I did warn you, all those years ago. Still, I’ve learned a few things since then. I can be a lady for a couple of months if—”

“Oh, no,” he interrupted her. “I want you to be yourself; in fact, the wilder, the better. My brother’s looking forward to it. He wants you to shake up his Court a little. He says they could do with some shaking up.”

She threw her head back and laughed whole-heartedly. “All right, then, I’ll take you up on this. I’ll be there before the end of summer, as soon as I get things arranged so I can leave. This may work out really well, actually; the cousins bring horses up every summer, and I always miss them. This time I won’t. I was afraid that when the second batch came up in the fall, my people would still be in the field.”

“Perfect,” he replied happily. “Just send word ahead, so we can give you the proper reception.” She covered a yawn, then, but not before he caught it. “You’re tired,” he said, rising. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I’d be polite, but I’m too exhausted,” she admitted, as he opened the tent flap. “And—thanks for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Captain,” he said, hesitated a moment more. She still looked—haunted. And he didn’t think it had anything to do with this last battle.

“Kero,” he said, as he held open the tent flap, “I—I don’t know how to ask this discreetly, so I’ll be blunt. Is there something wrong? Something I can help you with? Something personal?”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes shadow-laden, and looked as if she was about to say something.

But then a clot of her troopers passed by the tent, talking in the slightly-too-loud voices of those who are just drunk enough to be convinced that they’re sober. She jumped, and smiled, with a kind of false brightness.

“Nothing that a few days of rest and a few nights of solid sleep won’t cure,” she said, and waved him away. “Thanks for the concern; I wish all my employers were that interested in my well-being.”

That was a dismissal if ever he heard one. He shrugged and grinned, as he let the entrance flap fall.

He mounted his horse, still being held by the patient sentry, and turned the palfrey’s nose back toward his own camp.

It’s funny. We have become so different in the little things—which is where we used to agree. But in the important things, where we didn’t agree before, now we think exactly the same—responsibility, caring about your people—making sure they get treated right—holding to a personal code—it’s amazing. We’re more alike than ever. And I suspect she figured that out within half a candlemark after we met again.

The Skybolts’ camp had settled; he heard singing, softly, over by one of the fires, and the murmur of conversation somewhere nearby, but there was nothing like the riotous celebrating still going on ahead of him.

She’s really changed in other ways, too. She seems completely comfortable and stable—even happy—being entirely alone. Even if she does push herself too hard, trying to be everywhere and everything at once. And I still feel like there’s someone out there, somewhere, another person who could be my complement and partner. And that’s what I want, now. I don’t want a “lady,” I don’t want someone to show off for. I want a woman who will back me when I need backing, fight at my side, and take me down a notch when I need that, and who wants me to do the same for her. A real partner.

He let the palfrey amble on at his own pace, saluting the sentry who stood beside the entrance to his own camp. I don’t know where on the face of this earth I’m going to find someone like that, though. It’d take a miracle.... Then he chuckled. But at least I know one thing. If she exists, whoever she is, she isn’t Kero!

The sunlight that had been such punishment on the battlefield now poured over Bolthaven like golden syrup, balm instead of bane. Kero stood at the open window of her office, and smiled. Five years ago, when she’d ordered the new watchtower built onto the barracks, she’d had a new office and her own quarters incorporated into the plans. The old office Lerryn had used was over in the warehouse building—not a bad place for it, except when you had to get to it on winter mornings when no one sane went out of doors. This office had the triple advantages of convenience, proximity to the barracks, and the best view outside of the platform above her. Any day that the weather was decent, she flung open the shutters to all four windows, and enjoyed an unobstructed panorama of her little domain.

Beyond the gates, the town of Bolthaven spread out in the sun like a prosperous, basking cat asleep atop the fortress-crowned plateau. Beyond the town, acres of tended fields alternating with fenced pasture stretched eastward, and acres of grassland dotted with white patches of grazing sheep went westward. Here on the southwestern border of Rethwellan, so close to the Pelagir Hills, no farmers settled land without having protection nearby.