Mercedes looked up. “I believe you.”
Jaromir spent most of the day frustrated and annoyed, and without the correct outlet, by the time the sun dipped low, he was on the edge of seething.
The whole ordeal in the barn had left him more shaken than he’d admit to anyone. Though he remained convinced that killing Ramsey had been the right decision, that didn’t make it any easier. Céline was right in that Ramsey was as much a victim as the soldier he’d killed in the night.
But . . . at present, his main concern was Amelie. Céline might fight him on moral issues, even to the point of occasionally challenging his decisions, but he knew how to handle her and he always won.
Amelie was openly disobeying his orders—and doing so in front of the men.
That had to stop, and it had to stop now.
He’d let her leave the barn and walk away with Rurik, but he knew that Rurik was planning to take their horses to a nearby meadow to graze, so he decided to wait and catch Amelie alone. He had no wish to embarrass her. He simply needed to impress upon her the absolute necessity of obeying his orders in their current situation. He’d been charged with protecting her, and he’d not allow her to endanger herself.
However, after waiting a short time, he’d gone to visit her tent and found it empty. A short while later, Guardsman Saunders told him that she’d gone off with Rurik, to help him with the horses, and that Céline had last been seen walking toward the miners’ encampment with her box of supplies.
This left Jaromir facing an entire afternoon with nothing to do besides think and stew and grow angrier with Amelie. Near dusk, he was standing outside the women’s tent, waiting with his arms crossed.
And that was his mood as Amelie came walking back after her excursion. Watching her approach, he couldn’t help thinking how pretty she looked in her pale blue dress, with her short black hair swinging back and forth as she walked. Her skin glowed, as if the afternoon away had done her good.
She stopped at the sight of him. “Rurik is putting the horses away,” she said. “Are you waiting for him?”
“No.” He motioned toward the flap of her tent with his chin. “In there.”
She tensed, but this only irritated him more, as if she needed to be cautious of his behavior instead of the other way around.
“I want to talk to you,” he said.
With a wary expression, she walked into the tent, and he followed.
Inside, she turned to square off with him and crossed her arms as well. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he was handling this badly, and he knew her well enough not to take her head-on like this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“You disobeyed a direct order last night,” he started, letting anger leak into his voice. “Worse, you tripped the man I assigned as your escort, and you took his weapon!”
“I saved your life! I’m the one who reached you and Céline. I’m the one who clubbed the wolf with the butt of that spear I ‘took.’”
“Saved my . . . ,” he sputtered. Was she really delusional enough to believe he couldn’t have handled that beast by himself? “My job is to protect you, and our position here is uncertain at best. Do you understand how much your behavior has undermined my authority?”
“Your authority? So far, you haven’t done a damn thing besides let Captain Keegan walk all over us and tie our hands.”
“When I give an order, you will follow it!”
Amelie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not one of your soldiers!” she shouted, uncrossing her arms and clenching her fists. “And I’m not some gypsy girl you can order around the way Keegan orders Mariah!”
His head jerked involuntarily as if she’d slapped him. “The way Keegan orders . . .” He trailed off, so stunned he couldn’t finish the sentence, and for just an instant, he thought he saw a flash of panic and regret cross her face.
It didn’t matter.
Without another word, he turned and strode out of the tent.
Chapter Eight
As Céline made her way down the path between the encampments, then broke through the trees to see the collection of the soldiers’ tents, a low male voice caught her attention. She looked over to see Corporal Quinn quietly giving orders to the men who were about to take duty on watch.
His manner with them was so different from Captain Keegan’s. He spoke to the men with authority, but also with respect and an awareness of the strain they must be under. Young Guardsman Graham was in the group, looking as miserable and lost as he had at midday.
As Graham began to walk away, Quinn stopped him and said, “I’ve covered your post. You take the night off.”
This small act of kindness moved Céline, and she wondered how Quinn had ended up as a mere corporal serving under a man like Keegan.
Quinn was a much better leader.
This got her wondering about several things, and she changed directions to intercept him. Looking at him, her curiosity grew. He was the type of man that princes often sought out for service, tall and strong, like Jaromir, with clear eyes and a direct but easy manner. His sandy blond hair was cut just short enough not to look cropped, but not so long as to become tangled. She had a feeling he didn’t do anything by accident.
“Good evening, Corporal,” she said. “It has been quite a day.”
He nodded uncertainly. “I’m sorry about that scene in the barn.”
She was not up to giving him absolution, but neither would she make him feel worse, so she changed the subject. “It cannot have escaped your attention that Captain Keegan is hindering our efforts, despite Prince Anton’s letter. I was wondering . . . could you tell me how the captain managed to receive this assignment? He appears to despise nearly everyone and everything here, as if the assignment is beneath him.”
If Quinn was taken aback by her question, he hid it well. However, he also appeared to be considering whether or not he would answer her.
“I regret having to remind you that it was your prince who engaged my lord,” she added. “I’d like to know what we’re up against as far as cooperation goes.”
At that, Quinn shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know why the captain has been so reticent to approve your few requests. I had good reason to worry about taking one of those beasts alive, but I understood why you asked, and I wished you’d learned more.” He paused. “He should let you read the men. We can protect anyone you point out, and he knows it.”
Though his last statement was close to disloyalty, it gave her hope.
“How did he end up here?” she asked again.
Quinn sighed. “He volunteered, as a payment. The previous man in charge here, a Captain Asher, died of a fever, and Prince Lieven could find no one willing to replace him. My captain . . . he ended up in an awkward position over a gambling debt he couldn’t pay, and our prince asked him to volunteer for this duty. At the time, Lieutenant Sullian and I were serving under him . . .”
“And so you ended up here, too.”
He nodded.
“What was Sullian like?” she asked.
“Too softhearted. Nothing like the captain. Don’t get me wrong—he was a good man, but he didn’t belong in the military. I think he was the second son of a second son and had little choice.”
“The morning we arrived, Keegan mentioned that he was hoping for a replacement. Has he officially requested one?”
“Yes. He views this assignment as an insult and a punishment, and he feels he’s paid his dues.”
As Céline digested that, Quinn began to move away from her. “Forgive me, my lady, but I need to check in with him.”