ing to be ambushed here. Nesson was safe. It was too far from the Akielon border to throw suspicion for an attack southward, and it was close enough to the border with Vask that any attack could lead to a political quagmire. If Akielos was the Regent’s goal, there was no reason to wake the sleeping Vaskian Empire.
Besides which, Laurent had brought them so far from the route the Regent had originally planned for him to take that any traps left in wait for them would be left languishing, waiting for a company that never arrived.
Damen began to wonder if the sense of steady building and accomplishment that was growing in the troop was infecting him too, because by the tenth day, when the men were drilling like they could face an ambush with at least a chance of survival, he had begun to feel the first fragile stirrings of hope.
That evening, in a rare moment without duties, he was beckoned over to one of the campfires by Jord, who sat there alone, stealing a moment’s peace. He offered Damen wine in a dented tin cup.
Damen accepted it, and sat down on the bowed log that was an impromptu resting place. They were tired enough that they were both content to sit in silence. The wine was awful; he swirled it around in his mouth, then swallowed it. The warmth from the fire was good. After a while, Damen became aware that Jord’s gaze was occupied with something on the far edges of the camp.
Aimeric was tending to his armour outside one of the tents, which showed that somewhere along the line he had picked up good habits. That probably wasn’t why Jord was looking at him.
‘Aimeric,’ said Damen, raising his eyebrows.
‘What? You’ve seen him,’ said Jord, lips quirking.
‘I’ve seen him. Last week he had half the camp at each other’s throats.’
‘He’s all right,’ said Jord. ‘It’s only that he’s highborn, and not used to rough company. He’s doing the right thing by what he knows, it’s just that the rules are different. Like how it is with you.’
That was chastening. Damen took another mouthful of the awful wine. ‘You’re a good Captain. He could do a lot worse.’
‘There are some lowlifes in this company, and that is the truth,’ said Jord.
‘I think another few days like today, and the worst of them will be shaken loose.’
‘Another few minutes like today,’ said Jord.
Damen let out a breath of amusement. The fire was hypnotic, unless you had something better to look at. Jord’s eyes returned to Aimeric.
‘You know,’ said Damen, ‘he’s going to let someone eventually. Better all round if it’s you.’
There was a long silence, and then, in an oddly diffident voice:
‘I’ve never bedded anyone highborn,’ said Jord. ‘Is it different?’
Damen flushed when he realised what Jord was assuming. ‘He . . . We don’t. He doesn’t. As far as I know, he doesn’t with anyone.’
‘As far as anyone knows,’ said Jord. ‘If he didn’t have a mouth on him like a harlot in a guardsroom, I’d think he was a virgin.’
Damen was silent. He drained his mug, frowning a little. He wasn’t interested in these endless speculations. He didn’t care who Laurent took to bed.
He was rescued from replying by Aimeric. His unlikely saviour had brought one or two armour pieces with him, and was making to sit on the opposite side of the fire. He had stripped down to his undershirt, which was partially unlaced.
‘I’m not intruding, am I? The fire has better light.’
‘Why don’t you join us,’ said Damen, putting his mug down and carefully not looking at Jord.
Aimeric had no love for Damen, but Jord and Damen were the highest ranked members of the company, in their different ways, and an invitation was difficult to refuse. He nodded.
‘I hope I’m not speaking out of turn,’ said Aimeric, who had either been punched in the nose now enough times to learn circumspection, or was just naturally more deferential around Jord. ‘But I grew up at Fortaine. I lived there most of my life. I know that since the war at Marlas border duty is a formality. But . . . the Prince has us training for real action.’
‘He just likes to be prepared,’ said Jord. ‘If he has to fight, he wants to be able to rely on his men.’
‘I prefer that,’ said Aimeric, quickly. ‘I mean that I prefer to be part of a company that can fight. I’m a fourth son. I admire hard work just as . . . I admire men who can rise above their birth.’
He said that last with a look at Jord. Damen wisely made his excuses and rose, leaving them alone together.
* * *