“Don’t threaten me with a good time—” He hesitated, looking at the back of her head. “I need your name.”
“You don’t.”
“How am I supposed to refer to you, then? The woman with the sword? The angry guard? What should I call you?”
“I don’t anticipate any need for you to call me anything.”
“We’re living the need right now, Guard.”
A fragmentary pause. Then, in a slightly begrudging tone: “Captain, then.”
“Captain? Strange name.”
“My rank,” she snapped, striding ahead of him without so much as a glance over her shoulder. There was no need—what was he going to do, run from her? He had no idea where they were, and it wasn’t like he’d get very far with his hands bound behind his back by what felt like the strongest knots of all time. “Captain of the Palace Guard.”
“The Captain herself stripped me of my armor? My word, I wish I’d been awake to salute.”
“Silence, now, before I find a way to tie your tongue behind your back, too.”
Cato grinned at her back, fancying he could see a flush of anger spreading across the back of her neck. He was probably imagining that, but he certainly hadn’t imagined the momentary lapse of decorum that had drawn the rather evocative threat from her. He was under her skin, well and truly. A dangerous place to be, perhaps, especially given the unknown situation she was currently leading him towards…
But dangerous places were where Cato did his best work.
Chapter 5 - Acantha
Acantha was seething as she strode along the passageways of the Palace with the unrepentant captive at her heels. Was it her fatigue that had caused her to fall so completely for his transparent little attempts to unnerve her? As she’d predicted, she’d gotten precious little sleep the night before. Once the Archives had been checked, the relevant people alerted to the situation and her report to the Queen and Prince prepared, there had been only a few hours of night left… and she’d struggled to use even that small amount of time to rest, tossing and turning fitfully in her bed as dreams haunted her of the gray-eyed thief dancing out of her grip and dissolving into mist before her eyes.
Get it together, she told herself as she led him into the Throne Room. Force of old habit, at least, kept her expression carefully blank as she gestured for Cato to take the customary position before the throne. Their new Queen had made a few changes to this room after she’d taken over, which had been well within her rights but had still annoyed a few traditionalists. The major change was the height of the throne. For centuries, the great chair had been raised ten feet above the heads of the assembled audience, allowing the monarch to gaze down from on high, symbolizing their removal from ordinary people. Dragons liked to perch in high places, after all. But not Lana. After tolerating the arrangement for barely a few months, she ordered that the throne be removed from its high dais, citing an unwillingness to climb ‘all those damned steps’ every morning. The Queen’s word was law, and her subjects had obeyed and removed the towering dais, though discussion of the decision was yet to ease. Dragons tended to hang onto their grievances—something Cato, whoever he was, would do well to remember, Acantha thought darkly.
To her surprise, the Throne Room was busier than she’d expected. She saw more than a few of her off-duty staff in the crowd, and suspicion began to take root that gossip had been spreading. Had nobody been listening to her warnings about that kind of thing? Camaraderie was one thing, but gossip was quite another, especially when it concerned palace matters like this one. Adding another entry to her rapidly growing list of discussion topics for their next meeting, Acantha kept her face still as stone as the whole room settled into curious silence. It wasn’t often that a complete stranger walked into the Palace.
“Captain, thank you for being here. I understand it was a long night.”
Queen Lana had settled in well in the year or so since her coronation, but her exotic origins were still clear in the unusual accent with which she spoke and the occasionally clunky choices of words she still made. Where she’d come from, it seemed, the language they spoke was confined only to written documents, and understood by a precious few besides… the thought of a world existing beyond their own was confronting enough, though, without adding different methods of speech to the question. Acantha was still working her way to an understanding of that particular situation—and it occurred to her now with a sudden rush of inspiration that perhaps Cato was from the same world. That would explain his strange appearance, at the very least… though he didn’t speak the way Lana did.
“Please, Captain Acantha. Your report.” That was Prince Conrad, seated at the Queen’s right side. He’d been caretaker of the realm for decades before Lana had arrived, preparing for her ascension according to the instructions of an ancient prophecy… and now that she was Queen, he’d stayed on as an advisor, helping to smooth the transition and to put the minds of the more traditionally-minded dragons at rest. Acantha supposed she numbered among them… but she’d grown to respect Lana in the short time she’d known her.
“Acantha,” she heard Cato murmur behind her, his voice very soft but an undeniable touch of smug triumph ringing in the syllables. She fought to keep her disgruntled expression from her face, stepping forward to give her report as though she hadn’t heard what the thief had said. He was still her prisoner. She still had the upper hand here. And since when had she cared about what anyone thought of her?
She’d done her best to minimize the strangeness of the situation in her report, but there were still whispers going through the Throne Room when she finished and stepped back to her customary place at the side of the room, leaving Cato alone in the middle of the room before the throne to explain himself. Lana was studying the man with a vivid interest in her blue eyes, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand. “Fascinating,” was all she said as she watched him. “What did you say your name was?”
The thief sketched a deep and frankly ridiculous bow, impeded only a little by the fact that his hands were bound behind him. “My Queen, it’s an honor to be in your presence. If I’d known I’d be graced by such an audience, I’d have arranged to pay my respects with a gift. Unfortunately…” He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing downwards with a rueful little smile. “I have only the clothes on my back.”
The Queen’s smile didn’t flicker. “Name.”
“Cato, my Queen.” Another elaborate bow. “Forgive me. I’m nervous.”
“This is no social call, Cato. You were caught robbing our Archives.” The Queen paused, but Cato clearly thought better of jumping in to defend himself. “What were you attempting to steal?”
A pained look crossed Cato’s face. “I confess, it’s true,” he said, looking genuinely apologetic. Acantha felt herself gritting her teeth and deliberately relaxed the muscles of her jaw, annoyed that he was getting to her even when he was talking to someone else. “I did go through your Archives—there’s no excuse for my behavior, no apology that could make my actions right—”
A small bread roll bounced off Cato’s forehead and rolled away across the Palace floor. Acantha was gratified to see the real surprise on the thief’s face for just a moment before he schooled his expression. The Queen raised an eyebrow in wordless challenge, thoughtfully weighing a second bread roll in her ring-adorned right hand. “By all means, keep avoiding the question. I’ve got a whole breakfast up here.”
Was Cato hiding a smile? “I see,” he said. “I’ll apologize a third time, then. I’ve met a few monarchs who see a lack of flowery declarations as rudeness. I was looking for anything I could sell, Your Majesty.”
Lana’s eyebrow lifted, and Acantha shared her surprise. The shift in the thief’s demeanor was noticeable. “Go on.”
He gestured towards Acantha, making her grit her teeth. “Your brave Captain there caught me red-handed. I had a satchel I was loading up with anything that looked like it might fetch a good price. Dragons are famous for their collections of rare and valuable things, Your Majesty. That’s why I came… and you’ve caught me red-handed. I submit to whatever punishment you see fit to offer.”