Charlie grinned, revealing he’d lost another tooth in the last two weeks. He’d turned nine last month, but to Quinn he’d always be the wide-eyed toddler who followed him around when he visited their home in Cambria. As he’d joined the army before Charlie was born, Quinn had been almost a mythical figure for the majority of Charlie’s life. “I heard you were in a battle,” said Charlie. “Were you hurt?”
“Just a scratch.” Quinn lifted his own over-long hair and tipped his head so Charlie could see the stitches over his eye. Cass had done a good job and the swelling was down, but it still itched like hell. “You should see Ash’s. Much more impressive.”
Charlie looked around for the other faces he knew before seeming to remember he had a purpose. “I’m here to take Surry for you, sir. You’re requested in the general’s tent for debriefing.”
Quinn nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach. Reporting after a patrol was standard for a commander, whether or not he’d seen action, but this would be his first. He handed the reins over to his brother and patted the mare on the neck before pulling a small bundle from his saddle. “Take my bags to my tent when you’re done brushing her down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quinn straightened his uniform as he turned away, brushing road dust off his black leather jacket. He caught Casseck’s eye, and his second-in-command nodded in acknowledgment that he would take over until Quinn returned from his meeting. As he headed for the general’s tent, rising over the others several rows away, Quinn tried to strike a balance in his pace. He didn’t want to look too eager, but he didn’t want to keep his superiors waiting, either.
The sentry outside the tent saluted, and Quinn returned it as he ducked inside. He kept his hand up, rendering the gesture to the officers gathered around the wide table. His immediate superior, Major Edgecomb, was there as expected, and the regimental commander stood beside him. The general looked up from his seat, his close-clipped gray beard and hair looking as though they were made of iron themselves. Behind him stood his staff officer, Major Murray, and another man Quinn didn’t know.
“Captain Alexander Quinn reporting as ordered, sir,” Quinn said.
“At ease, Captain,” the general said. “We’d like to hear your account now.”
No pleasantries or congratulations on a successful engagement with the enemy. Quinn didn’t know that he expected much, but the five stern faces were a little unnerving. He cleared his throat and approached the table, which had a map laid out on it. Without flourish, he described his company’s arrival on station and how they discovered the trail of men headed north and then east.
“We tracked them for two days. They set sentries in the evening and appeared to have a hierarchy. Before attacking, I sent Sergeant Carter to intercept them and make close contact.” Quinn unrolled the bundle he had with him and laid several silver medallions and a roll of parchment on the table. “We recovered these from the bodies, and this map, which is too vague to determine anything from.”
The general looked up sharply. “You make it sound as though you made your decision to attack before making contact.”
“Well, yes, sir,” Quinn said. “But I obviously would have called it off—”
“Describe the attack, please.”
Quinn swallowed. “We ambushed them here.” He pointed to the spot on the map. “I used a scissor sweep, taking advantage of the angle of the sun—”
“What time was it?” Major Edgecomb interrupted.
“About an hour before sunset, sir.”
All eyes went back to the map, and Quinn felt he’d made a mistake, though he couldn’t see how … unless this was about Robert. The general must be upset Quinn had put the crown prince in danger, but he’d conceded months ago when Quinn had requested his cousin as one of his lieutenants, saying that keeping Robert away from action made him look weak. With winter weather cutting off communication with the capital, it was doubtful King Raymond knew of his son’s new duties, and it was the general who would have to answer to the king and council if something happened to the prince.
Quinn cleared his throat. “There were only three injuries. All minor. Prince Robert wasn’t among them—”
“Yes, we know,” Edgecomb snapped. His eyes drifted to the general, who frowned back.
The unknown officer picked up a medallion and traced the raised design of Kimisara’s four-pointed star with his thumb. “You have no prisoners for questioning.”
It was a statement, not a question. Quinn knew better than to make excuses. “The survivor killed himself. It’s not something I’d ever seen before, but yes, sir, I failed in that respect.”
Every man shifted uncomfortably.
The general seemed to make a decision. “I would speak to the captain alone.”
Sweet Spirit, this was bad.
The four other officers saluted and disappeared. After several seconds of silence, the general sat back in his chair and looked up at him. “This was our first potential raid in months. You can understand my disappointment.”
Quinn silently cursed the dead Kimisar. “Sir, a man who wants to die will find a way.”
“The suicide is secondary. Your primary mistake was timing.”
“Timing, sir?” Heat rushed to his face. “The ambush was perfect.”
The general shook his head in exasperation. “I’m not talking about your tactics—those are fine. You attacked too soon.”
“Sir, we tracked them for days. We knew who they were, and their weapons proved they were hostile. There was nothing left to learn.”
“Think, Captain.” The general leaned forward and tapped his forefinger on a junction on the map. “A few more hours and they would’ve been at Arrowhead Crossroad. We’d have a better idea of whether they were headed north or east. We’d know if they were splitting up or meeting someone. As it is we know nothing. Because you couldn’t wait to take them down.”
Quinn reddened and said nothing in his defense.
The general sat back again. “You’re in a command position now. These aren’t mistakes you can afford to make.” His voice gradually became less harsh. “You must see the bigger picture. Acting quickly has its merits, but so does patience. It’s a delicate balance, and not everyone who walks it makes the best decision every time.”
Quinn looked down at his feet, trying not to sink into himself.
“Son,” General Quinn said, “you must learn patience.”
8
SAGE SQUINTED THROUGH the peephole that looked into the bathing room. In the last five months, she’d learned to judge quite a bit through that hole, once she got over the sense of voyeurism.
“Well, what do you think?” asked the matchmaker.
Sage leaned back and made a face. “I don’t like her. She’s spoiled, rude, and overbearing.”
Darnessa rolled her eyes. “I can count the number of girls you’ve liked on one hand. She’s a Concordium candidate—of course she’s a spoiled brat. Have you learned nothing?”
Sage sighed and began listing her observations. “Graceful and poised when she knows she’s being watched. Thinks every man will fall in love with her if she flashes those big blue eyes. Servants detest and fear her. She’s cruel when displeased, which is often.”