The Lost War by Karl K. Gallagher

Author:Karl K. Gallagher [Gallagher, Karl K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kelt Haven Press
Published: 2019-04-09T22:00:00+00:00

***

A hand tapped on the tent canvas. “My Lord Autocrat? Are you there?”

Sharpquill lifted the flap to see his visitor. “I am. Come in.”

“Thank you.” Cinnamon, Chief Lady in Waiting of the Visiting Court, swept into the tent. She stood in the middle, studying its neat arrangement by the light of three candles on Sharpquill’s desk. The big bed was rumpled on one side. Two small cots were neatly made up.

Sharpquill said, “I presume you have a message from Their Visiting Majesties?”

“No, I’m here on my own business,” said Lady Cinnamon. “I am very impressed with how you handled that unpleasantness in court.”

“You seem to be the only one.”

“Oh, no. You’ve made it clear murder will be punished.”

Sharpquill mimed a pinch at his mouth. “People are attached to their tongues.”

“But she’s still able to work.”

“We need all the hands we have to survive.”

“Stitches is terrified you’ll carry out the sentence.”

He shrugged.

“It seems you only failed in one goal you were trying to achieve.”

He stiffened. “Oh?”

Cinnamon leaned in with a smile. “You didn’t get the King to fire your ass.”

“I will not shirk my duties.” He started an angry shout, but muffled the rest lest someone outside hear him.

“We know. Otherwise you would have found another way out.” She grabbed his hand and turned it, pushing up his sleeve to show healing cuts leading up from the wrist. Some freshly scabbed over, others nearly invisible now.

He shoved her away. “Let go!”

She landed on the bed, smoothly as if she’d intended him to push her onto it. “Your duties are crushing you.”

He turned away and leaned on his desk. “I have to keep working. We can’t afford to tie up everyone in leadership arguments again, we’ve lost enough time to such already.”

“Then let me help you.”

That drew a bitter laugh. “You want the job? Fine.”

“No . . .” She stood and came up behind him, breasts brushing his back. “Help you personally.”

He twisted away. “My Lady, I am married!”

Cinnamon locked eyes with him. “You were married. Now you’re alone. However we wound up here, we’re not going back. You won’t see her again.”

Sharpquill turned to look at the empty beds. “I think of her every day. Her and our boys.”

“I’m sure she thinks of you. But she’s had a funeral for you already. We’re here now, and we have to take care of each other.”

“I miss her,” he whispered.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down with her to sit on the bed. He buried his face in her shoulder as the tears came. She rocked him and stroked his hair, saying nothing.

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