The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer Page A

a small smile to his face. “Only a little, cadet,” he said. “I am well.”
    â€œWorried about your prisoner, sir?”
    â€œShe must go to Lord Tramist,” Eamon answered, not because he actually knew who Lord Tramist was, but because he had heard Belaal say it.
    The boy smiled. “She’s in good hands with us, sir!”
    Eamon wanted to tell the rash young fool that he could not possibly be expected to answer for a snake as dangerous as Aeryn. Instead he held his tongue and looked at her. She had begun shaking violently in the cold.
    â€œIt wouldn’t do to have her dead before we get there,” he told the cadet. “See that she’s kept warm.”
    The boy smiled brightly. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Goodnight.”
    Eamon nodded and drifted back to the deck and the evening air.

C HAPTER V
    D uring the river trip Eamon spent much of his time on deck caught in a waterward vigil. In fact he spent so long there that he began to be an accurate interpreter of the jargon used by the holk’s crew.
    Hierarchy on the vessel was straightforward: the captain had overall charge of the craft, the sailors answering to him, while the Gauntlet lieutenants had charge of the cadets, ensigns, and prisoner on board. The ship’s captain often discussed details of the route to Dunthruik with Eamon and Spencing, though the latter was sparingly polite in his attention to the captain.
    As the days went on, Eamon found himself disliking Spencing, and the two ensigns who clung especially to him, more and more. The ensigns had been in the swearing line with Eamon in Edesfield what seemed like years before: Ensign Ilwaine (quiet and reserved) and Ensign Hill (wasp-tongued and agitated). Lieutenant Spencing was arrogant and unamiable, and Eamon couldn’t understand why the two ensigns had such an attachment to him.
    These three men, and Eamon himself, formed a significant part of the group who would disembark at Dunthruik together and who presumably also comprised the finest of Edesfield’s new ensigns and officers.
    Eamon kept his distance from Aeryn. Was he not a sworn man? And yet, when he lay in his bunk at night, rocking with the swaying of the Lark , he thought that he would have braved the road to hell for a good glance – but Aeryn never deigned to grant him so much as a bad one. All he received from her was, at best, fury, and at worst, indifference.
    It left him caught between two equally unpleasant desires. The first was to somehow rescue Aeryn and free her before they reached Dunthruik. Once they arrived the Hands would be her escort, and though he could protect her from cadets and ensigns, he could not protect her from them.
    His other desire, which grew stronger as the days passed, was to simply do what was asked of him: take Aeryn to Dunthruik and hand her over. Whispers in his mind told him that once in the city he might be made a Hand himself as a reward and come into the confidences of the Master. From there his power would be unlimited. Then Aeryn would beg for his help.
    Was that what he wanted?
    During his first day on board Eamon had watched the changing landscape and grown increasingly uncomfortable as the hills and valleys that he knew became thick, forbidding forests. The brooding trees huddled darkly along the distant banks, full of ghostly shimmers in the moonless night.
    It was those woods and banks that made it an unexpected comfort to share the small quarter with Spencing. Since Eamon had taken responsibility for the prisoner, Spencing had never spoken a kind word to him. Still, in the dead of night with the cold gnawing at him and shadowy fears creeping along the hull, Eamon was glad to hear the breathing of another soul, even one as detestable as Spencing’s.
    One thing that Eamon did enjoy was drilling the cadets and ensigns. There wasn’t much room on the deck, so the Lark stopped for several hours every day to allow the Gauntlet to