17: Not In My Army

VASILEIOS

I’ve been throwing myself into my work, trying not to think of everything that could go wrong by having that human here. I stand in the sparring ring, surveying the lot before me—young fae from the far reaches of Summer, tenant farmers’ sons and daughters. They poured out from their first night in the barracks, tired and anxious. The barracks building is just a short jog to the sparring rings. Its ancient stone structure crumbling slightly, it’s strange to think it used to be the seat of power in Summer. The castle became the barracks once the new building was complete, but that was long before my time. Some former Summer king felt it necessary to impress with our current estate. Having spent much of my life in the barracks, I don’t miss its drafty damp air. I doubt these recruits had the best night’s sleep given the bags under their eyes. Our standing army hadn’t been as grand since the end of our war with Winter. But given the upcoming solstice and my hesitance at what having Cordelia here might mean diplomatically for our court, I’ve called up new recruits. Squires delivered notices to the farming estates days ago to send their oldest children to serve King Orthus. They’re a sorry lot now—Strong and proud as any young fae I suppose, but not one of them seems to understand the more delicate intricacies of fighting. I suppose that’s my job to teach them, though, and I’m damn good at it. These first few days, I won’t push them too hard. Living in the barracks, away from their families for the first time, I’ll give them a day to acclimate before I break them with training. I need to assess them anyway, to try and find what skills I can develop. Fostering the killing talents has always been my gift. “What’s your name?” I ask the very tall brunette fae male before me. He’s the biggest of the lot by far. I know that he’ll become a target just for the trophy kill alone in battle. 

“Um, Evander, my name is Evander—Sir.” He shifts nervously, and his voice is meek compared to his brutish form. I look up slightly to address him, it’s not often I have to raise my gaze to anyone. 

“Vasileios is fine; you know well in good I have no title beyond Master-at-arms—You’re, well, large. It’s going to make you a target in battle. Starting tomorrow, let’s focus on defensive work.” I motioned to the racks of shields held to the side of the sparring ring. “Spend today testing which weight and shape of shield feels best in your hand, don’t overthink it. Let your intuition guide you.” 

“Yes, si—Vasileios.” Evander takes his massive form over the rack and promptly knocks four shields from their perch in an attempt to get just one down. This fae will take time to hone. I sigh and move down the line. The fae female in front of me is of average height, lithe form, and possesses long red curls that flow down her back. She’s short for a fae, maybe only 5’8”. She’d might make a half-decent spy. I think, trying to nail down what niche would suit her best. She was one of the few in my lineup that looked happy to be here, eager even. She smiled broadly at me, and something in that smile reminded me so much of her. She bore only the slightest resemblance to Orthus’s human love. Fuck. Maybe it was the combination of her coloring and the button nose? I couldn’t place it, but I knew I couldn’t have her here and risk my brother forming some affection for this poor country fae. 

“I’m Tamsen, I think that—“ I waved a hand as she spoke enthusiastically, halting her introduction.

“Tamsen, thank you, but I’m sending you home. You can serve for summer elsewhere, but not here, not in my army.” Her face screws in confusion.

“What? Wait, did I do something wrong?” She became slightly emboldened in her disappointment and took a knee before me. Being called to serve in Summer’s army was likely a great honor for her humble house. An honor I would need to take back, even for something as slight as a passing resemblance to the king’s former lover. “Don’t send me back; I vow to serve Summer’s court and pledge my fealty to King Orthus.” I pulled her up by her shoulder. I wanted to say I’d risk your life by keeping you here. I wanted to say; My brother is a sick man. I won’t let him get to you. But I liked my head on my shoulders and not skewered out on a pike somewhere. 

“Not in my army, go.” I pushed her back towards the barracks. “Take a horse, pack your stuff, and get home quickly. I’ll send a squire to retrieve the stallion in the morning. You’re not cut out for this. You’d be dead before training is over.” She stares up at me with wide eyes, unmoving. “Leave immediately!” I bark at her. The offense was unmistakable in her expression. She looked as though she might cry, better tears than dead in a ditch. Tamsen sprinted towards the barracks building after headed my order. She might have made a good soldier if circumstances were different. Once satisfied she’s leaving, I break my gaze from Tamsen and turn towards a wiry fae male. He’s pale like orthus but with tightly cropped black hair. Maybe a build best for archery? Sometimes the thin ones would surprise you with their competence in hand-to-hand combat, but I didn’t get that feeling from this one. 

I don’t know what I felt first—the wind blowing in the wrong direction? I felt the tug, the feeling that something was wrong. My anxiety prickled as the hair on my arms raised. I turned away from inspecting the recruit, and my attention was drawn to the rose garden just up the hill. My stomach suddenly became slightly nauseated as some connection felt like it was fracturing inside me. Corruption of some kind pulled me forward faster. My heart began racing as I stomped up to where my intuition told me to go. There was a sense of loss inside that I couldn’t explain. Everything felt as though it was in slow motion. I didn’t look back at the recruits as I made my way to where I needed to be. The closer I got, the more the metallic smell of fresh magic assaulted my nose. I could make out my brother’s deep voice, although I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My ears filled with muffled static as the rage in my chest built. I could smell her, her scent, tomato leaves. What was he doing with her? Oh god, am I too late?

I rounded the corner, peering past the archways of roses, and saw them. First relief filled me as I saw her unharmed, but my rage grew as I sized up the scene that lay before me. My heart feels as though it’s falling into my stomach, his wretched face is so close to Cordelia’s. Her full mouth was just a hair’s breadth away from his. I couldn’t let him touch her, and I wouldn’t let him. I had to protect Cordelia from Orthus’s perverse cruelty he would disguise as love. I told myself it had nothing to do with the fact that I wanted her. I wanted her to touch me, even if the only way she would do so was out of anger. I would gladly let her wrap her hands around my neck and choke the last breath from me. I would let her skewer me through with a sword, and beg her pardon should I bleed on her perfect skin. I thought she was more intelligent than this to trust Orthus, wasn’t she? She had attacked him outright on their first meeting. Why couldn’t she see the real him now? I would stop this.

“Orthus!” I yelled, unsure of what excuse I could muster. “You’re needed.” It was the only thing I could come up with. He gave me the brush off, but I held firm. Getting him away from Cordelia was the only thing that mattered. I could feel the tension in my chest slack slightly when he retreated from her small form. He had his sights sets on Cordelia, and I would find a way to stop him. The king passed me, and I still stared at her. This human woman permitted my every thought. I hated myself for coveting her, and I suppressed those feelings as best I could. She scowled at me, at my interruption. Hate me. I thought. I would let her hate me as long as I could get her to heed me. I wanted to be cunning like my brother, but I wasn’t. I was made of hard edges and impatience. Before I could stop myself, I warned her through gritted teeth. “You’re in danger here.”