Page 8 of Artemysia

“Perhaps you wanted to fail.” - Colonel Jorgen

B eside me, Throg’s sharp inhale tells me he’s only just spotted Riev, and it’s absolutely killing him not to be able to make a snappy comment to me.

The moonflower-embroidered cloak draped around Riev’s squared shoulders signals he’s still in uniform, despite the tailored suit.

Did he wake up in the clock tower this morning and then go buy a perfectly fitting suit?

He’s clean of the blood and dirt from last night.

He must have showered somewhere, as I suggested.

He wears a black cravat around his neck.

No rank has that color. Violet, blue, green, gold, crimson.

“Captain Julian,” Riev echoes coolly after a colonel introduces us, giving no indication that he’s ever seen me before.

My name rumbles from his lips, his voice throaty and deep.

His gaze latches onto me as though no one else were in the room with us.

I wonder what part of last night he’s reminded of when he looks at me that way—as if he’s imagining meeting in a different scenario besides the war room.

His fist may as well be slowly closing around my throat in the alleyway, or his fingers slipping past the top buttons of my shirt in the clock tower.

Oh, hell. I return his steely stare, even as I force my breath to be steady.

He still hasn’t stood from where he’s seated, and no one tells him otherwise.

King Galke regards Riev with wary eyes, the way one would look at a feral beast within striking distance.

“North Kingdom,” the king says, “is our goal.”

My pulse erupts into a deafening thrum. Beside me, Throg shifts on his feet, his leathers squeaking.

North Kingdom is a mere legend at this point.

A legend of a human civilization on the other side of the forests of Artemysia, though no one really knows what’s there. There’s been no word from North Kingdom for over two centuries, and no one remembers why or how they were cut off.

Records are lost, forgotten.

There must have been communication before, or how would we have known about them? Are they still there? Or have they been decimated by Syf?

King Galke’s deep voice snaps me back. “We require a more aggressive strategy as we approach our twenty-first year defending ourselves from Syf attacks. Losing fifteen percent of our population is unacceptable .”

He takes his time making eye contact with each of us, controlling the room he surveys.

Galke has the gravitas of a ruler, despite his relatively small stature, and it’s difficult to look away.

“For the last five years, we’ve been attempting to cross Artemysia to contact North Kingdom.

Riev and his team have almost mapped their way through, at great cost.”

His gaze lands on Riev, whose unflinching glare shines with something that might be regret or fury when Galke says at great cost. But either way, I know what this means to Riev.

I also can’t help but notice that the king addresses Riev by his first name, without title or rank, despite his obvious position of status at the table seated next to the king. Who is he to the king? To the Academy? Why are they willing to put up with his irreverent manners?

“The last time—” Riev flicks a knowing look at me from under dark brows “—my men and I made it to the edge of the woods in the north, we witnessed signs of civilization. Blackened, burnt farmlands, likely ravaged by Syf. Before we could get any farther, a large band of Syf ambushed and slaughtered my men.”

“But you could have made a run for the other side,” a colonel argues, his mustache twitching. It’s Colonel Jorgen of the western riverfront territories. “Perhaps you wanted to fail.”

“Pfft. You know nothing.” Riev scowls at him and draws a switchblade from under the table to twirl casually in his left hand, while the colonel averts his gaze.

“I killed half the band, but Syf pursued me the entire way through the forest. Try controlling an elk with so many around. It was safer to escape into the woods than make a run through razed fields. Whatever the Syf’s motivations are, they did not want me crossing into the north.

” He snaps his blade shut and slides it back under the table.

The king cuts in. “We need to communicate with the leadership of North Kingdom, if any exists, and coordinate a strategy to defeat the enemy, if they are willing. But they may already have been destroyed by Syf,” he concludes, echoing my fears.

So many if s.

The colonels murmur and nod.

“Riev is our deadliest assassin,” King Galke says plainly.

“Wha—?” I stifle the sudden release of breath, unable to suppress my shock. Assassin? The Academy doesn’t employ assassins. Everyone in the room must already know this, except for Throg, but he doesn’t flinch beside me. Throg tends not to flinch at anything.

King Galke eyes me. “He’s killed more Syf than any other soldier and possesses advanced medical expertise when it comes to injuries. The colonels report that you, Captain Julian and Commander Throgmorton, are the best we have in terms of strategy and leadership.”

The colonel beside him nods. “You’ve lost the fewest troops while securing our city and surrounding villages from Syf.”

“Together, you must travel through the forest, make contact with the other side, and ask for aid.” Galke firms his mouth.

“Do they have soldiers, advanced weapons, information on the Syf? You’ll get farther into the forest with a small group.

Riev can protect only so many people, so this must be a bare-bones operation.

Seek help from North Kingdom to join us in our fight against the Syf.

Do you understand and accept this assignment? ”

If I remember correctly, Riev not only failed to protect the two men with him last time, but he also barely made it out himself.

Though, remarkably, the cut across his eye has sealed into a tight pink line.

Practically healed overnight? I squint at it, curious, and he catches me.

I don’t want to look like I’m staring at him, so I glance away.

“This sounds like a suicide mission,” Throg blurts out. “No one’s made it all the way through the forest, and we don’t even know if there are people alive on the other side! Or if they speak our language, or how their leadership views us. For all we know, they’re working with Syf.”

He casts a glance at me with his dark blue eyes and tips his head. “That being said, I will follow Captain Julian anywhere.”

“Thank you, Commander Throgmorton,” the colonel of the Stargazer post speaks up. I’m under her direct command. She’s always been fair, but under the scrutiny of the king and the other colonels, I have no idea what she might ask of me.

“The commander expresses valid points,” she says. She adjusts her crimson cravat and continues. “Captain Julian, is this a strategy that can lead to success?”

Riev shifts and sits up taller, steepling his fingers under his chin, not looking utterly bored for the first time since the meeting began.

I’m grateful that he can’t see the ridiculous amount of sweat dripping off different parts of my body right now.

I have no idea what he wants from all of this.

He just escaped with his life, and they’re sending him back in.

Does he care that they don’t seem to worry about his safety and well-being?

Or is he that good and therefore confident he’ll make it back, no matter what?

I think it’s a terrible plan, so I choose my words carefully. “Commander Throgmorton’s assessment of the situation is correct. It’s been two hundred years since last contact, and no one remembers how or why communications stopped.”

Throg grunts his approval of my answer.

“My squad and I have kept Stargazer safe,” I continue. “But I know the outer villages and towns have not been as fortunate.”

My nerves are ready to tear a hole through my chest, but I knock back the doubts over a difficult mission with an unknown assassin.

I have a feeling Riev won’t like taking orders.

But I can do this. “I’ve successfully camped in the outer reaches, evading the enemy at night.

I can outmaneuver them on elk or on foot.

I’ll kill as many Syf as needed to reach North Kingdom, and if this is the best chance to change the situation for South Kingdom, I volunteer for the mission. ”

Colonel Jorgen, who accused Riev of failing, slaps the table with both palms. “That’s the spirit. Riev, this woman has more balls than a monster like you—”

Blazingly fast, Riev unsheathes a large knife from the holster strapped around his vest and slams it into the table in front of him, driving it into the heel of the blade.

The colonel screams, clasping his hands to his chest. Blood spurts from somewhere, and when I crane my neck to where Riev’s knife has gouged the war room’s table, I see the tip of the colonel’s finger in a splatter of its own blood.

With the colonel still screaming and cursing, King Galke pulls back almost imperceptibly, while the guards behind him lunge forward, their swords half-drawn.

The king signals his guard and mouths what looks like medical attention, and they escort the bleeding colonel out of the room.

Riev rises to wriggle his knife out of the wood and removes a black pocket square from the breast of his suit. He cleans the blood off his knife before re-sheathing it, as if he were merely wiping dirt from eyeglasses. His gaze slides across the room with malicious intent.

“Sit down, Riev,” King Galke orders, his tone neutral as he waves Riev back toward his chair. It’s difficult to tell if the king is fazed or not. Perhaps this is how he must react as a leader. More likely, he’s seen this behavior from Riev before, and it no longer surprises him.

Riev’s eyes flick toward me as he takes his seat.

The colonel seated closest to me leans away in a too-obvious attempt to move out from under the direct gaze of the angry assassin in the room. His plan backfires when Riev shifts his attention to him, and the older man chokes on his cigar, coughing as if jabbed in his paunchy gut .

Riev replies to the king with a low snarl. “No. Galke, I refuse. I will not take Captain Julian through Artemysia. This plan is as shitty as Colonel Jorgen’s breath.”