'Finn?' Moss asked again, and then something else seemed to occur to him. 'Did you tell her to go get your ...' He swung around to where the others stood.
'Blessed day,' he murmured. 'Oh, blessed day.' He stepped toward Trevanion, a look of wonder on his face, and then gave a huge roar of laughter. If Finnikin's left ear hadn't already been ringing from a blow, it would have been deafened by the volume. Moss grabbed Trevanion and lifted him from the ground, both of them laughing with a joy that had their balcony spectators clapping.
'The innkeeper said there were foreigners asking after us. We thought you might be Charynite spies.' Moss wiped tears from his eyes. 'Never imagined this.' He looked at Sir Topher and caught him in a bear hug. 'A day blessed by Lagrami, Sir Topher.'
Finnikin staggered to his feet beside them. Moss clapped him on the back with his huge hand before looking at Evanjalin. 'Food you say, my beauty?'
Evanjalin's face beamed at the compliment.
'Tonight we feast, my friends.'
The King's Guard of Lumatere was lodged in an inn at the far end of town. It had been their home for the past five years. They spent their days training Pietrodore soldiers and working out battle tactics for a strike on the palace if they were ever able to enter Lumatere. Each year, Perri and Moss had returned to the the Valley of Tranquillity to see if there was any change.
'Too dark to describe,' Moss said quietly as he led the way up a flight of crumbling stone steps to the inn's flat roof. 'The mist of malevolence surrounds the whole kingdom, as well as the Forest of Lumatere.'
From the rooftop, Finnikin could see down into a large internal courtyard surrounded by high walls.
'It's where we train the lads of Pietrodore,' Moss explained as he unlocked the rooftop door. They went down a set of narrow wooden steps until they reached a large rectangular hall, three floors down. Despite the dimness of the light, there was a great deal of activity in the room. It was full of the former King's Guard, fierce men who looked much the same to Finnikin as they had in the days when they defended Lumatere. They wore their hair cropped short, and their body language spoke of readiness. Some played cards, while others sat with their heads bent together.
Moss grinned at Finnikin. 'Gentlemen,' he called out, 'and I hear there are some ladies present too, Aldron.'
The men laughed without looking up.
'Last lady I saw was your woman as I left her this morning, Moss,' the man Finnikin presumed was Aldron said from the back of the hall.
'We have guests.'
Several of the men stopped what they were doing and gave Moss their attention. They squinted in the half- light, and Finnikin realized that, like the town of Pietrodore, visitors rarely entered this domain.
'Courtesy of a foreign King's Guard,' Moss continued.
This time, every man in the room came to his feet. They pulled their swords from their scabbards in unison.
'Moss, where is the humor in this?' one man asked, making his way toward them.
Finnikin recognized him instantly. Perri. Trevanion's second-in-charge. The man who had placed him in Sir Topher's care during the nightmare days after the unspeakable, the man who had given him Trevanion's sword.
Perri stopped in front of them. He was lean and lacked the height of Moss and Trevanion, but there was no weakness in his body. As he had often done as a child, Finnikin trembled at the sight of men so powerful.
Finnikin saw the recognition flash in Perri's eyes. He stood before his captain, their faces twitching with suppressed emotion. They clasped each other's arms, their fists straining from the strength of their feelings. Curious, others in the room stepped forward and suddenly a roar of men's voices shouted Trevanion's name.
'Crying?' Froi scorned.
For a moment the room was silent. Finnikin watched the men turn and stare at Froi as if he were a gnat they could crush in a moment. Froi, at least, had the good sense to look frightened.
'Did he just mock us?' one of the younger guards asked.
Trevanion grabbed hold of another guard, clapping him on the shoulder. 'You were half the size when I saw you last, Aldron.'
'I was fifteen, Captain,' Aldron protested. 'And you swore you would never allow a guard so young. But you said I had the heart of a lion.'
'As does your little pup.' Moss grinned, looking at Finnikin.
Finnikin felt Perri's dark stare. But the look was one of pride.
'Little Finch,' Perri murmured. Suddenly he grabbed Finnikin in a headlock as the others cheered. 'And where is Sir Topher?' Perri asked, swinging around.
'Feeling like the shortest man in the kingdom,' Sir Topher said with a laugh, lost in the middle of the group. There were three cheers for the king's First Man.
After the initial excitement, the Guard seemed overcome. Finnikin could see it in their expressions, as if they had no idea how to comprehend who had just walked into their hall. There were questions in their eyes. Trevanion sensed it and held up his hand for silence. He took in the face of every person in the room and then his gaze settled on Froi and Evanjalin, who looked overwhelmed by all the celebration. Gently Trevanion drew them toward him and turned them to face his men, brushing the back of his hands across their faces.
'Gentlemen,' he said quietly, 'I present to you the future of our kingdom. The lifeblood. We take back Lumatere. For them.'
The guards hoisted the two into the air, and Finnikin saw joy and fear on Evanjalin's face.
But Froi looked around with wonder.
As if he had never seen the world from up so high before.
Chapter 16
There was little rest to be had in the week that followed. Trevanion wasted no time in preparing his men, yet there was a spirit and energy among the Guard that not even the most backbreaking training could crush. These were men of wisdom and experience, but no one could deny the need for youth and stamina, especially if the battle to reclaim Lumatere was a long one. In the courtyard of the inn, Trevanion and Perri barked out instructions, pushing the men to the limits of their endurance, and at times their tempers.
'Protect your wrist, Callum!'
'Your feet are your first line of defense, Finnikin!'
'If he had an ax, you'd be standing on stumps by now, Aldron!'
'Oi! Froi! Make yourself useful and get some bindings!'
Finnikin fought hard for their approval, something he had not needed to work for during the past ten years. Sir Topher's admiration had always been quick, from his wonder at Finnikin's ability to remember every detail of a conversation to praise for his pupil's hunger for learning. But now Finnikin felt the need to convince the Guard that he was worthy to be part of them. He longed for their acceptance, not just because his father was captain but because they saw him as a warrior in his own right.
And so he trained long before the others arrived at dawn, his fingers bleeding from the constant use of his bow and arrow. During the day, he rarely stopped to eat or drink, his practice sword always ready for the next opponent, despite the pain in his joints. He worked hardest and longest with the glaive, knowing it was his weakness, ignoring his opponents as they winced each time the pole connected. He listened intently to every criticism and afterward worked twice as hard to make sure he did not repeat his mistakes.
By the end of the first week, his whole body ached and he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bedroll and sleep. Beside him, Froi picked up the practice swords, grumbling with every movement. 'Make yourself useful, Froi!' he mimicked. 'Fetch, Froi! Slave!'
Finnikin was beginning to regret the boy's language lessons, which now included every curse under the sun, courtesy of the Guard. He looked up to where Evanjalin sat on the balcony, her legs folded under her, head on the
