Flamecaster by Cinda Williams Chima

anyway?” she said. “I’m eager to meet him.”
    â€œHe’ll be here,” Tourant said. “Soon. He had some business to attend to.” He gestured toward the ale. “What do you think?”
    Lila made a show of gulping some down, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “It’s quite . . . complex, isn’t it?” she said.
    â€œIndeed,” Tourant said, smirking. “It’s not the usual Tamric swill.” His gaze shifted so that he was looking over Lila’s shoulder. “Here’s Rochefort now. You can thank him in person.”
    Lila swung around, coming face-to-face with the newcomer. In contrast to Tourant’s plumage, the visitor’s clothing was finely made but subdued, without the markings of rank. He had a lean, sinuous build and fine-boned, artist’s hands. His skin was pale and unmarked, as if it had never seen sunlight. His eyes were hazel—oddly pale under thick dark lashes, and his hair was the same color as his ale.
    Blood and bones, she thought. Destin Karn. What are you doing here?
    â€œLila Barrowhill, may I introduce Lieutenant Denis Rochefort,” Tourant said, seeming eager to make it a three-way. “Lieutenant, this is Cadet Barrowhill. The one I told you about.” His eye twitched, and Lila realized that Tourant was trying to wink and not quite succeeding.
    Lila had been working with Destin Karn for two years now—long enough to know that the younger Karn was a chameleon of a man, who could play any part, who could take on the colors of his surroundings. Just as he was doing at that very moment. She just wasn’t sure who the real Karn was.
    Destin’s father, Marin Karn, was commander of the Ardenine army and of the military campaigns againstTamron, Delphi, and the Fells. He was the architect of Arden’s captive mage program, in which they used flashcraft collars to force wizards to fight alongside them. Both Karns were wizards who had found a way to survive and thrive in a land that despised magic. Naturally, they’d managed to avoid taking the collar themselves.
    â€œPleased to meet you, Lieutenant Rochefort,” Lila said, putting on a fierce, brilliant smile that said she wasn’t pleased at all. Setting her ale on the table, she extended her hand. Destin hesitated, as if worried about her intentions, then took it. His palm was smooth, uncalloused, and delivered a definite sting of wizardry. Magic was the weapon he wielded on behalf of his king.
    Destin kept hold of her hand, his eyes fixed on Lila. “Tourant was right,” he murmured, his lips twitching with amusement. “You are quite lovely—such an exotic mingling of races. We don’t have officers like you at home.”
    Lila bit back the first retort that came to mind. “No,” Lila said, withdrawing her hand. “You don’t.” Destin was having fun at Tourant’s expense—always a good thing—but that didn’t excuse his showing up here like this. She needed to get rid of Tourant, so they could have a heart-to-heart.
    â€œWhile we’re on the subject of physical gifts,” Lila said loudly, “I must point out Proficient Tourant’s very impressive ass. Nobody fills his breeches like he does. Turn around, Tourant, and give the lieutenant a look.”Lila described a circle in the air with her forefinger and raised her eyebrows.
    Horror and rage chased embarrassment across Tourant’s face.
    â€œAnd did you notice his skin—it’s the color of roasted beets.”
    The commander backed away, spluttering, unable to manage a suitable retort.
    â€œYou forgot your ale!” Lila thrust a mug at him. Tourant took it and slunk away.
    Destin’s eyes followed Tourant’s retreat, then he looked back at Lila, grimacing. “Is it politically astute to antagonize your class commander?” Meaning Tourant.
    â€œI’ve never been accused of being