His stomach sank, and he realized that he was the most likely cause for the frenzy of activity.
They took him to a large tent he had never been in before, though he already knew who it belonged to. It was the Lord Commander’s tent. He was being taken to Baron Fulstrom.
The interior was far different than any of the other tents he had been inside. It was partitioned, not with canvas, but with wooden screens decorated with intricate carvings of woodland creatures. Will’s captors shoved him along until he reached an enclosed area at the far end of the tent where six people waited for him.
Four were guards, armed with swords and wearing mail. Will supposed they were probably from the baron’s personal retinue, for they appeared to be in their thirties and all of them had the look of professional soldiers. The other two in the room were Baron Fulstrom and Isabel. Above Isabel’s shoulders were the two elementals he had seen before, while above Fulstrom hovered a fire elemental. Will’s letter was in Isabel’s hand. I’m so screwed, he thought.
Everyone was standing, as there were no chairs. The baron walked over and studied Will’s face for a moment. “Kneel,” he commanded.
One of the guards kicked Will’s legs from behind before he could do as ordered, and he fell to the ground. They hauled him up by his shoulders until he was on his knees. The baron stared coldly down at him. “You understand why you’re here. Don’t you, soldier?”
“No, sir,” said Will.
One of the men holding him twisted his arm painfully. “You address the baron with ‘milord’ or ‘Your Excellency.’”
“No, Your Excellency,” said Will, hastily correcting himself.
Isabel stepped forward, the letter in her hand. “You placed this in my tent last night, didn’t you?”
Will shook his head in vigorous denial. “No, milady.”
Baron Fulstrom made eye contact with one of the guards and nodded. The world exploded into splinters of pain as a mailed fist slammed into Will’s jaw with such force that he nearly blacked out. “Lie to me again and I’ll have you whipped. Keep lying and your life will be extremely short.”
“Fulstrom!” snapped Isabel, her voice firm with authority. “A word, please.” The two of them stepped out of the room, and Will heard them speaking quietly on the other side of the partition, but he was too rattled to pay attention to their words.
When they returned, the baron pointed at the guards and snapped his fingers. “Outside.” As the guards left, he looked at Isabel again. “Are you sure, Mistress Isabel?”
Isabel nodded, closing her eyes briefly. Will couldn’t help but notice she didn’t bother to answer properly. The baron followed his men out, and the two of them were left alone. As soon as everyone was out, Isabel went to Will and leaned close.
Will was startled, unsure of her intentions, until he realized she was examining his cheek. “It doesn’t look as bad as it felt, I’ll wager,” she observed. “I was worried the mail might have split the skin.”
His nose caught the scent of something floral. Roses? “Why am I here, milady?” asked Will, feigning ignorance.
Isabel straightened up and cocked her head. She held his letter in her hand. “I think you know why you’re here.”
“Did someone write something bad about me, milady?” asked Will. I can do stupid, he thought smugly, as long as no one is beating my head against a wall.
She frowned. “Don’t play dumb. I know for a fact you were in my tent last night. You were seen.”
Will adopted a confused look while he thought furiously. He knew no one had seen him. She might have some form of proof, but he was certain he hadn’t been observed. He decided to call her bluff. “No one saw me…” he began.
“Then you admit you were there,” said Isabel triumphantly.
“…because I wasn’t there, milady,” Will finished.
Isabel chewed her lip, while the tip of her tongue poked out on the other side of her mouth. It was obviously an expression of deep concentration, but Will couldn’t help but watch her. Damn, she’s cute, he observed. If she doesn’t have me flogged.
Her expression became serious. “Please don’t address me as ‘milady,’” she told him. “I don’t hold a rank worthy of such a title.”
Will was starting to add things together in his head. It was obvious she didn’t want to hurt him, otherwise she wouldn’t have ordered the baron’s men from the room, or checked his cheek afterward. Why she didn’t want to hurt him, he didn’t know, but that was one thing he knew. She was also clearly nobility, and of a rank superior to the baron. Those were his only two facts, however. What would Grandfather do if he were in my shoes? “The hell you don’t!” swore Will.
Isabel flinched as though she had been slapped. “Excuse me? What did you say?”
Will elaborated, “I said there’s no way in hell you aren’t a lady.” He paused, then added, “Milady.”
“Explain why you think that.”
“You called the Lord Commander by his name without an honorific, and he said nothing,” answered Will.
“That doesn’t mean…”
“And you had enough power to order him out of the room, despite the fact that it means you’re alone with a supposedly dangerous man,” added Will.
Isabel laughed. “Your hands are bound.”
Will looked up at her with cold eyes. “My feet aren’t, and I probably outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. If I were dangerous it wouldn’t be wise for you to stand so close. The baron clearly thinks so, which means you had to have some serious authority to force him to leave us alone.”
Her foot shifted slightly, as though she were about to take a step back, but Isabel held firm. “You’re observant, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve overestimated the danger you pose. You’ve forgotten that most nobles have magic.”
He already knew that, but he decided to needle her a bit as he replied, “What, are you a wizard or something?”
“A sorceress,” she corrected immediately, and the two elementals hovering above her shoulders shifted, becoming visible in the physical sense. One appeared as an intricate, silvery crystal, while the other was an amorphous, watery mass.
Will tried to look fearful as he leaned away from her. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Stop that,” snapped Isabel. “You aren’t a bad liar, but your acting is terrible.”
“I’m really afraid,” insisted Will, scrunching up his face and keeping his eyes downward.
“That’s really painful to watch,” she observed dryly. “Please stop. I feel embarrassed just watching you.”
Will gave up. Straightening up, he apologized, “Sorry.”
“That’s better,” she said, and Will thought he saw a hint of a smile cross her face. “Now, tell me how you got into my tent.”
“I didn’t—”
“That’s getting old,” she said, interrupting him. “Would you like to see how I know you were there?”
He shrugged.
Isabel held up the letter with her left hand while an intricate construction of runes appeared in the air above her right hand. A second later it moved across to dissolve into the letter, then a strange mist appeared in the air above it. The mist swirled for a moment before resolving into four faces, all of whom he recognized; Arrogan, his mother, Isabel, and his own visage. Isabel pointed at his face, “Who does this look like to you?”