“No, not like that. That was really overt, you know? There was no questioning what you were feeling. This is different…more subtle. Like something is wrong that you can’t quite put your finger on. Beyond the obvious, I mean. Something almost behind the scenes? I don’t know if that makes sense or not.”
“Umm. It does. I think something Jamshir was doing backfired on him. Now, he’s caught by his own schemes and it’s driven him crazy.”
“Possibly.” Shireen yawned and stretched. “All I know right now is that it was disgusting being there. I’m glad to be clean and well-fed, and now I just want bed.”
Orlando smiled at that.
“Sorry,” she said. “I mean sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“Kind of figured,” he replied. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She rose, kissed his cheek and walked to their bedchamber. She barely remembered Orlando joining her later.
♦ ♦ ♦
The next day, Shireen walked to the tree that housed the scouts. The offending soldiers, Nicolas and Thomas, were confined to their quarters until proper disciplinary reviews could be conducted. Their commander, Jeremiah, a capable officer, met her at the entrance.
“Lady Shireen.” He bowed slightly.
“Jeremiah. What’s the news?”
“No repentance. At all. I put them through their paces, even after their trip, and it didn’t seem to faze them in the least. As a matter of fact, I received the same type of response that you reported. Insolence and indifference.”
“What’s your assessment?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I really can’t say. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but this is completely out of character for these two. For any Towering Oaks scout or soldier, for that matter.”
“Orlando told me the same thing. I don’t understand—"
While they were talking, the door to the tree opened and a scout appeared. He pushed between them without a word, his uniform and armor in disarray.
“Scout!” Jeremiah yelled. “Halt!”
The man stopped walking but didn’t turn back around.
Jeremiah’s face was like a storm as he marched around to face the man.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“I’m late,” the man muttered.
Shireen walked forward as well, peering at the scout. He returned her look with a sneer of his own, one that was remarkably similar to the expression on the face of the woman who served her sour wine in a madman’s throne room.
“Where are you going, scout?” she asked.
He tilted his head up, pointing with his chin. Shireen glanced that way. The scout was indicating the tree that housed the mess hall, where the rank and file ate their meals.
“And you’re late for?”
“Breakfast, obviously. Some of us do like to eat, you know, and don’t get to have our food served to us on fancy platters of gold.”
Jeremiah drew his arm back, but Shireen put her hand out, stopping him from striking the man.
“I see. Your meal will be brought to you. Return to the barracks.”
The scout scoffed, then turned on his heel and returned inside, slamming the door behind him.
“Are there any others still in there?” Shireen asked.
“A few,” Jeremiah said.
“Put a guard on this door, immediately. No one in or out until I say so. That includes you. Bring them food, leave it on the doorstep and back away. No contact.”
“What do you think is going on, Lady Shireen?”
“I think we brought something back from Glittering Birch.”
She left Jeremiah and found Orlando, telling him to round up anyone else who went with her the day before, and that if any of them showed any signs of the behavior of the others, they were to be immediately taken to the barracks.
None of them did. They all lined up, armor immaculate, discipline fully in effect. They answered her questions succinctly and with respect.
Whatever was going on, it hadn’t spread to all of them, and Shireen herself felt no different than she ever did.
Frustrated, she decided to walk the perimeter of the compound, taking the opportunity to think, and stopping at each sentry point to check in. This was something that Jediah often did. He believed it gave the sentries the sense that what they were doing mattered, even during extended periods of peace.
Jediah had a way with people that belied his stiff, formal exterior. Familiarity wasn’t his strong suit, and no one, other than perhaps Solomon, thought of him as their friend. But they all would have fought and died for him without question. He inspired that type of loyalty, made you believe that you were on the side of right.
Shireen hoped that she could do half that, even for the short time she was in charge.
Solomon would have his own way, of course. There was no sense in even trying to guess what that would be. For now, she would follow the example of the leader she knew and loved, and trusted that it would be enough.
When she reached the back of the compound, she found one of the sentries more on guard than the others.
“Trouble?” she asked.
The woman glanced at her, then returned to scanning the forest, her gaze flickering across the bright sunlit spots between the trees.
“No, my Lady,” she finally said. “There’s nothing. Around dawn, I thought maybe...”
She trailed off and Shireen noticed a faint blush to her cheeks.
“Thought?”
“I thought I saw something. But now… I’m afraid that maybe I was overtired. Seeing things that weren’t there. I’m sorry. It’s inexcusable.”
Tired was something that every soldier dealt with. It was no shame, and said something about this one that she was willing to admit to it.
“That was a few hours ago,” Shireen said. “If it’s still bothering you, I’m thinking there’s reason. What did you think you saw?”
“It’s silly.”
“Tell me anyway. I could use the laugh.”
