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Lieutenant Beale led them across the cobblestone courtyard to a stone wall, through a set of open double doors into a dirt-floored courtyard that extended to the palace wall. A two-story wooden building stood in the far-right corner with rows of small windows without glass and with open shutters. A one-story building occupied the far-left corner. Shirtless men were everywhere she looked. Some sparred with each other while others hefted and tossed stones. A few fired arrows into dummies stuffed with straw. Some stretched or ran in place. A few at a time, the men noticed their arrival. Whispers went around the courtyard as Beale lead them toward the smaller building. Men stopped what they were doing to stare at them. At her.
Adelaide hated it. She wanted to hide. Regulus put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. A couple men let out a low whistle. Someone said, “What’s a lady doing here?”
Another man said, “Her handler’s awfully protective. Must be expensive.” Heat rushed up the back of her neck.
“So, what, officers get a pass on the no women in the barracks rule?” another man muttered.
Beale halted and turned around. “Since your attention is off your training anyway.” His raised voice carried over the courtyard. “Meet the two newest members of the king’s personal guard. Regulus Hargreaves and Adelaide Belanger.”
“Sir, you’re saying the woman’s...one of us?” A man with bulging muscles wiped sweat off his glistening forehead.
“No,” Beale said tersely, “His Excellency says she is.”
The men glanced at each other, whispering. Adelaide gripped her skirt and fought the urge to flee the courtyard. She wanted to press into Regulus’ back to hide from their stares. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked around the courtyard, daring them to challenge her.
“She need a sparring partner?” A lanky man who looked a little younger than Adelaide leered. “I’ll volunteer.”
“You aren’t even that good, Tom,” called out another man. Adelaide couldn’t find him in all the staring faces. “We all know I’m the best at hand-to-hand combat. I could give her some pointers. Demonstrate some moves.” This was greeted by snickers and exclamations of agreement and offers to teach her. Adelaide clenched her teeth so hard she feared they might crack.
“Enough.” Beale started back toward the low building. “Back to your exercises, men.”
A chorus of “yes, sir’s” answered him, but the men only half-heartedly returned to their training, their eyes still following her. Beale opened the door and walked inside. Long rows of tables bordered by wooden benches ran the length of the mess hall. Some twenty men sat at the tables, chatting and eating.
“This is the mess,” Beale said. Eyes turned toward them, widening when they saw Adelaide. “You’ll eat your meals here.” He pointed toward a counter with a window into the kitchen at the far end of the hall. “You’ll give your name and get your food there during your time slot.”
Regulus shuffled his feet. “Perhaps it would be better if Adelaide—”
“You arguing with me, Hargreaves?” Beale rounded on Regulus, stepping up so they were face-to-face. Or close. Beale’s head ended at Regulus’ eyes.
“No, sir, I just think barracks discipline might suffer—”
“Well, if your lady didn’t want to eat with the guards, she shouldn’t have joined.”
“She didn’t have a choice!” Regulus glared down at Beale.
“What was that?” Beale squinted. “Didn’t Captain Russell tell you the rules?”
Regulus looked lost for a moment, then said, “She didn’t have a choice, sir.”
“Well, she doesn’t have a choice about eating in the mess, either, unless and until the king or Captain Russell or Captain Matthews say otherwise.”
Adelaide felt Regulus about to protest again, so she squeezed his hand hard. She could handle it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t protect herself. She wouldn’t be collared. Not this time.
Regulus grunted. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Beale led them to the other building, which she guessed must be the barracks. The men watched her all the way.
“They’ll get used to it,” Adelaide whispered to Regulus, hoping she was right. “It’s just novel now.” Regulus worked his jaw in response, the veins in his neck bulging.
Inside the barracks, Beale took them into a room with a large desk, a wall covered in parchment with schedules written on them, and a round table with four chairs. Two men sat at the table playing cards, both wearing the same outfit as Beale, including the black sash. The one on the right had a small scar running through his left eyebrow. His brown hair fell in a thin braid down his back. The other man had thick, wavy black hair and the same dark olive complexion as Dresden but was taller and much huskier.
“This is the officer’s command center,” Beale explained. “Assignments and schedules are posted here. You will report to this room to debrief before and after every shift protecting the king. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Lieutenant Breck,” Beale continued. The man with the scar nodded. “And Lieutenant Antar.” The olive-skinned man waved. “These are the new recruits, Hargreaves,” Beale jutted his thumb at Regulus, “and Belanger.” He jutted his thumb at her.
“So, it’s true.” Breck stood and looked them both over. “Don’t get why the king wants some foreign girl to protect him.”
“Hey, I’m foreign,” Antar said.
“Well, at least you’re a man and a soldier.”
“I’m Monparthian,” Adelaide said with rising indignation. “My father is Lord Alfred Belanger.”
“Don’t much care who your father is,” Breck said, his eyes narrowing. “But I do care about you following protocol, woman or no. Did you get the full rundown of the rules or what?”
Dammit. “I apologize, sir.” She bowed her head, hoping that would show enough deference to stay his wrath. “And we did, sir.”
“Ah, you know new recruits, Breck.” Antar propped his boots on the back of one of the other chairs and crossed his ankles. “Always takes a little while to adjust. Slip-ups happen.” Antar smiled. “I’m sure you’ll work on it, right, sweetheart?”
She managed not to let her irritation show as she replied, “Yes, sir.”
“You call all your soldiers sweetheart, sir?” Regulus asked. Oh. Great.
Antar’s expression darkened. “I could if I wanted to, sweetheart.”
Adelaide sensed Regulus’ anger rising, and she grabbed his arm with both hands. He looked at her, eyes flashing. She gave a small shake of her head. He took a deep breath and relaxed.
“Guess the girl’s got more brains than you,” Breck said. “That attitude you’re showing has no place here. It’ll get you in trouble. But by the look of that scar, you’re acquainted with trouble. Where’d you get it?”
“As a mercenary,” Regulus said flatly.
“You were a mercenary?” Breck looked surprised, and Antar looked impressed.
“For nine years. A captain for five of those.” Regulus glared back at Breck, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Ah, so that’s the cause of the disrespect in your tone.” Breck’s mouth curled down. “You think you’re better than me.”
“I mean no disrespect, sir.” Regulus sounded unconvincing as he stared down Breck.
Adelaide looked to Beale. “Sir, is there anywhere else we need to know how to find?”
“Don’t change the subject to protect him, girl,” Breck said.
“Breck,” Antar said with an easy wave of his hand. “Let them be.”
“Sure.” Breck tilted his chin up. “Soon as scar-face apologizes to his superior for his disrespectful tone.”
Regulus tensed. Please, she thought, remembering Russell’s list of punishments. Just get it over with. She heard Regulus grind his teeth.
“I apologize, sir.” He sounded almost sincere. Almost.
“I still feel disrespected.” Breck crossed his arms. “Kiss my boot to make it up to me, guardsman.” Adelaide stared at the lieutenant in disbelief. Regulus didn’t move. “If I have to tell you again, you won’t get dinner.” Still, Regulus didn’t move. He probably figured going hungry for a while was worth skipping the humiliation of kissing Breck’s dust-coated boot. To be honest, she didn’t blame him. “No dinner, then. Kiss my boot, or I’m taking your supper, too.”
Regulus stood immobile. This was insane. She looked at Beale and Antar, but Beale just watched and Antar looked mildly amused. She gave Regulus’ arm a gentle tug. This was getting out of hand. He didn’t even look at her.
Breck shook his head and tapped his foot. “One more chance, but this time you’re looking at a night in the stocks.”
Adelaide’s mouth fell open. That wasn’t a legitimate order. That punishment did not fit the crime. But she didn’t dare say so, not with the gloating expression on Breck’s face and the disinterest Beale had in the whole situation. She slid her hand from Regulus’ sleeve to his hand, hoping he would receive her desire to give in. Her fear of being without him that night.
Regulus started at her touch. Some of the fire left his eyes, but his expression remained tense. “Yes, sir.”
Regulus got down on his knees and kissed the tip of Breck’s boot. As he straightened, Breck kicked him in the chest. Regulus fell back against the wall next to the door. Adelaide yelped, both at the unexpected attack and the ache in her own chest that indicated just how hard Breck had kicked him. She leaned over Regulus, praying he wouldn’t lose his temper and make things worse. His chest heaved, but he didn’t say anything.
Breck nodded, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “Still no dinner or supper for you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she helped Regulus up.
His face was red, but he whispered back, “Don’t be.”
A hand grabbed her upper arm. Adelaide shied away and scrunched her shoulders toward her ears. Pull it together. It’s just your arm. All the same, fear made her rigid. Regulus thumb rubbed her hand. His love and even somehow his anger gave her more confidence and she relaxed.
“I don’t get it,” Breck said as he squeezed her arm. “More muscle than I expected, but not enough to be much use. And seems skittish.” He released her and sneered. “A week’s wages says the king requests her on night shifts.”
Beale laughed. “Do I look like a fool to you? I’m not betting against that.” Adelaide’s face burned. “Ah, look. You’ve upset her.” He laughed again.
“That’s enough,” Antar said, his voice quiet but firm. “I apologize for my fellows. You’re free to go back to your room.”
“Thank you, sir.” She pulled Regulus out of the barracks, Breck’s complaining about Antar’s sour attitude fading behind them. They kept a rapid pace until they were back in their room with the door closed. She hovered a sphere of light in the center of the room.
“The king’s an idiot,” Regulus spat. “He didn’t pause for a moment to consider what a bad idea putting a woman in the guard was.”
“Being angry won’t change it.” She pulled him down next to her on the bed and gripped his shirt. “I understand, but please, don’t do something like that again.”
“I’ve done enough groveling and being pushed around in the past two years to last me a lifetime.”
She couldn’t argue with that, but her own irritation with his stubbornness continued to grow. “I know. But—”
“They don’t scare me.” Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “I—”
“It’s not only about you!” She shoved his chest and released his shirt. “Did you consider how your actions affected me? Now if I want to eat, I have to face the mess hall alone. I almost had to spend the night alone. Did you think about that? Did you think of me? Well, did you?”
“I...” His face fell. “No. I didn’t.”
“No. You didn’t.” She huffed and stood. “Together, Reg. That’s what you said. Together!”
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re not a lone wolf, Reg, you—”
“Ad.” He grabbed her hand. “I know. I’m truly sorry.” The genuine regret on his face and the sorrow roaring through their bond made her anger deflate. “It won’t happen again. I swear.”
“Thank you.”
Someone knocked and Adelaide groaned. “Two minutes. Can’t we have two minutes to process?”
The person knocked again, so she stepped toward the door before she remembered Russell’s orders to keep her magic secret. She crossed to the table, lit the lamp with her magic, and vanished the glowing sphere before answering. An older man with a mustache stood at the door, holding a large cloth bag. He stepped back as he saw her.
“I...may have the wrong room.” He glanced past her to Regulus, then looked back at her. “I’m Phillip, the tailor? I’m here to fit Hargreaves for a royal guard uniform and was told to tell Belanger to report to the mess hall anytime within the next hour for dinner?”
Adelaide sighed. “I’m Belanger.” She stepped aside to allow the tailor to enter and nodded toward Regulus. “He’s Hargreaves.”
“I...don’t understand.” Phillip’s brow wrinkled. “You’re a royal guard?”
“That’s correct.” She looked at Regulus, then back at Phillip. “How long will getting his uniform fitted take?”
Phillip set down a bag and started pulling clothing out of it. “We should be done within half an hour.”
She turned around while Regulus changed into the uniform Phillip had brought, then sat on one of the chairs and watched while Phillip measured and pinched and pinned and smoothed and re-pinned. When he finished, he had Regulus maneuver out of the pin-filled uniform.
“I should get this back to you by this evening,” Phillip said with a nod, then left.
Concern etched Regulus’ face as he pulled his boots back on. “Are you going to eat?”
Adelaide wanted to say if he wasn’t eating, she wouldn’t, either. However, she was hungry. And, more importantly... “For all I know, I could get in trouble if I don’t.” She kicked at the floor. “Do you think...they’ll let you in, at least? Even if you can’t eat, you could just sit there, right?”
“Well, we can try.”
Fewer men were training in the courtyard, but they still stared and whispered. She kept her chin up and avoided their stares, her fingers intertwined with Regulus’. They entered the mess hall. Regulus pointed at an empty table.
“I’ll wait there.”
The boy behind the counter looked no older than fourteen. He looked at her in surprise as she stepped forward after the man in front of her moved down the counter.
“Belanger,” she said. The boy gaped for a moment, then checked a list tacked to the wall just inside the window.
“Uh...guess you are on here.” He handed her a long wooden plate and a rough iron fork. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you.” She loaded some potatoes, beef roast, and peas onto the plate. She felt the eyes of every man in the mess hall on her as she walked back to Regulus and sat. “That was the most awkward walk of my life,” she whispered, trying to lighten the mood. Regulus cracked a halfhearted smile.
Footsteps alerted her to the approaching men before four guards sat down, one next to her, the others with clear disappointment opposite her. Their plates clattered as they set them down. Regulus straightened, but Adelaide focused on eating her dinner.
“So,” the man across from her said. He was wiry and looked to be about thirty, with lots of freckles. “How’d you become a guard? Thought they didn’t take women.”
“King’s request,” she said between bites. Perhaps if she answered some of their questions, their curiosity would abate.
The man whistled. “Why? That’s rare. I don’t get what you can do that we can’t.” He grinned. “Well, other than the obvious.”
“I’m sworn to protect the king, same as you.” Adelaide worked to keep her voice even. “Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Maybe you’re a spy, or something?” This from a man in his mid-twenties, with a blond ponytail and pencil-thin lips. “You’ll blend in with the nobles, so they don’t know you’re a guard. Is that it?”
She shrugged.
“Told you.” Ponytail reached behind Freckles to slap the third man’s shoulder. “Pay up.”
“Hey now.” The third man had a deep baritone voice that somehow made him less ridiculous than his balding head made him appear. “A shrug doesn’t count.” He leaned his elbow on the table. “You know some foreign language, is what I think. You’ll be a stealth interpreter. When people think the king can’t know what they’re saying.”
She was so surprised, she said, “You think the king made me a guard so I could listen to people gossip in other languages?”
“Ha,” Ponytail said. “That’s pretty clearly a no. At the very least, you’re wrong, so I should still win.”
“That’s not how it works, Rob.”
“You just don’t want to keep your end of the bet.” Ponytail—Rob, apparently, made a grabbing motion with his hand.
“No one’s right or wrong yet,” Baritone said before shoveling an oversized bite of potato into his mouth.
The man to her left scooted closer until his thigh touched hers. She gripped her fork in her fist. “You want a fork in your eye? Back. Off.” He made a sour face but shifted back over so they had a small space. Regulus snorted.
“Hargreaves!” Adelaide nearly spilled peas everywhere as Breck’s shout echoed through the mess hall. Breck cursed as he tramped toward them, his boots clacking. “—do you think you’re doing in mess?”
“Not eating, sir.” Regulus kept his tone even and respectful, but irritation stormed in his eyes.
“Get out.”
“Sir?” Regulus’ brows drew together. “I haven’t eaten, sir—”
“You want to miss breakfast, too?” Breck grabbed the back of Regulus’ shirt and pulled him off the bench. “Get out!”
Regulus blew air out his nose, gave a clipped, “yes, sir,” and left.
Adelaide sat frozen, watching Regulus stomp out. The side of the fork cut into her fingers, she squeezed it so tight. She could have eaten more, but she picked up her plate and stood. Breck’s hand gripped her shoulder and pushed her back down as he sat next to her.
