Page 21 of The Beginning (Covert Moon, #1)

"What made you think he was a member of the court?" This from Devlyn.

"He was dressed as one. He wasn't in uniform like us and didn't look to be a servant. Nor did he speak like one. He was very dismissive when I attempted to stop him."

"And how do you know the girl was a servant in the castle?" Connar again.

"Because when she brushed by me, I could smell smoke from the kitchen fires in her hair," I said, remembering my thought that we'd be having game for dinner.

"While I was speaking with the king, Connar questioned those in the kitchen. None of the kitchen girls reported being accosted by any member of the court."

His words stole the breath from my lungs. I'd told the girl to go to the cook, to report what had happened. Clearly, she hadn't.

And why would she, if this was merely a plot to distract me, to give Gavin and Lady Annaliese those crucial moments? The realization was like ice in my veins. I'd been played, manipulated like a piece on a game board.

I snapped my mouth shut. No wonder Devlyn had been gone so long. He hadn't just been speaking with the king—he'd been conducting a full investigation.

Devlyn continued, "No one reports anything.

In fact, when questioned, they all looked mystified.

Isn't that correct, Connar?" My commander glared at me as he spoke.

I felt like a target at the mercy of the entire guard.

Where was the man who'd been my friend, who'd planned to sponsor me?

I didn't recognize the fury in the man before me.

"That doesn't change the fact that I didn't have anything to do with this!

If Gavin had plans regarding Lady Annaliese, that was nothing to do with me.

If the serving girl chose to lie, again, that was nothing to do with me.

Do you honestly believe a member of the court would confess to harassing the king's staff? King Jharak wouldn't tolerate it."

The words poured out in a rush, desperation making them tumble over each other.

Connar responded before Devlyn could speak. "Your reasoning's sound, Eamonn. But unfortunately, the circumstances don't support your argument. What the facts do support is that you're in collusion with your friend Gavin."

"You mean because I'm friends with a man, you're assuming that supersedes all else? I've worked my entire life to become a member of the King's Guard! It's all I've ever wanted! You, of all people, should know that, sir!" I gestured toward my commander, forgetting myself entirely.

I'd never raised my voice to Devlyn before, never challenged him so directly. But everything I'd ever worked for was crumbling, and I couldn't just stand there without a fight.

The rising wind of anger completely took over. The white walls took on a reddish tinge as passion drove out other feelings. My whole life, planned around one central goal—being a King's Guard, being someone who mattered.

I'd be sent to this Watchers unit, wherever they were located. Away from everything I'd known or cared about. What would that mean for Wenda and me? How could I ask her to wait, to follow me into exile?

I'd become like Connar—old, weary, grizzled, tired. I'd never seen another fae who looked like him. Whatever the Watchers did to a person, it aged them in ways that normal service didn't.

"Eamonn, you're fortunate that the king's indeed kind. He wishes to give you some benefit of the doubt. You'll take over command of the Watchers of the Veil. And if you do well, you may end up coming back to the castle. You have no other choice, Eamonn. Don't you understand that?"

Devlyn's stern persona slipped for a moment, and in that last question, I could hear him asking as a friend. The angry man of moments before disappeared, replaced by someone who almost looked like he cared.

That glimpse of warmth made everything worse. It would've been easier if he'd remained cold.

"No sir, I don't understand. I've been found guilty with no evidence, without any legitimate proof. It's already been decided that I've committed the crime I'm accused of. I don't understand at all."

The truth of what I'd said hung in the air, undeniable and uncomfortable. This wasn't justice. This wasn't even a trial. This was damage control, politics dressed up as mercy.

The commander looked over to the captain, and I could see that regardless of what I might say, the interview was done. They'd gone from Devlyn and Connar to the commander and the captain. It had been decided before they ever walked into the room.

None of this had been real. The questions, the explanations, the careful laying out of evidence—all theater. They'd already decided my fate.

There was no other chance. I'd need to accept the king's offer or return home. No longer a King's Guard. No longer anything of substance.

The choice wasn't really a choice at all. Go into exile with the Watchers or go into exile without them. At least with the Watchers, I'd still be serving the crown in some capacity.

"You'll go with Connar, removing all your belongings from the King's Guards quarters.

He'll escort you to the main outpost. Then he'll train you in your duties as Captain of the Watchers.

When he feels you've sufficiently mastered your responsibilities, he'll let me know.

I'll officially transfer command over to you. "

No longer Devlyn my mentor, the commander looked down at the papers on his desk, and I felt my heart fall into my shoes. The dismissal was clear and final. I was no longer his concern.

I looked over at Captain Connar, and he nodded and took a few steps forward. "Come along. I'll help you gather your things."

There was kindness in his voice, a gentleness I hadn't expected. After all the accusations and revelations, this stranger was offering me the courtesy that my own commander had withdrawn.

Helplessly, feeling like nothing but a leaf in a whirling storm, I watched as Connar went to the door and opened it, standing back to let me exit. The gesture was respectful, almost deferential.

I took a step toward the door, looking back over my shoulder at the commander. He kept his head bowed toward the desk, refusing to look up, effectively letting me know that I was no longer his concern. The man who'd shaped my career couldn't even meet my eyes as I left.

So be it. I'd been cast out, and I had only one path before me. I squared my shoulders and walked through the door, trying to summon some shred of dignity from the wreckage of my life.

Connar followed behind me, closing the door with a soft click that sounded like finality itself.

We walked down the hall together, our boot steps in concert. I didn't speak, didn't look left or right, unable to meet the eyes of people we were passing. Every face would be a reminder of what I was losing, every familiar corridor a farewell I wasn't ready to make.

The halls that had been my home for the past year felt different now, like I was already a ghost haunting places where I no longer belonged.

With each step, I became less a member of the King's Guards, and closer to being Captain of the Watchers of the Veil.