The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer Page B

drill on their own turf. Though there was nothing special about most of the lads, Eamon didn’t see in them any lack of enthusiasm or any reason why they should have been sent down the River to have their heads cleared. Once he and his charge had been deposited at Dunthruik most of them would be going straight back to Edesfield to continue training, and perhaps some of them would be posted out to the borders. Despite the sour words with which Spencing often treated them, the cadets and ensigns did not hesitate to spar or do one more lap of the banks with a double-weighted pack. They were determined young men and the thought of even one lapel pin struck fire into their eyes.
    During the drill on the second morning, while the crew was taking water on board, Eamon observed the cadets finish their exercises. His thoughts were far away – so much so that he didn’t see one of the cadets approaching him until the boy was drawing himself up for a smart salute.
    â€œSir!”
    Eamon looked up to see the beaming face of the young man whom he had first met in the swearing line. It made him feel old.
    â€œCadet,” he acknowledged. The cadets and ensigns had been dismissed and were returning to the holk. Eamon was acutely aware of Spencing and his ensign lackeys laughing unpleasantly, most likely at him, just over their breath.
    The boy did not seem to notice. “I know it isn’t really my place, sir.” He held out his hand; in it was a small golden fruit, still wet with dew. “But I wanted to give you this.”
    Eamon looked at it, dumbly. Then, at the cadet’s urging, he took it. The fruit gleamed in his palm like cool fire.
    He looked back at the young man in astonishment.
    â€œWe wondered if you might appreciate a change to the ship’s rations, sir.”
    Eamon resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows in surprise.
    He realized that other cadets were watching his exchange with the boy. “Is this gesture on your initiative, cadet?” he asked.
    â€œMostly mine, sir,” the young man confessed. “And I wanted to thank you for offering to help me at Belaal’s office the other day. I’m sorry I didn’t get to thank you at the time. But I can now. It was good of you, sir.”
    â€œIt was no trouble,” Eamon told him, glancing at the fruit. He was touched by the boy’s kindness; kindness he had not felt since he had sworn. Had the throned already taken so much from him?
    Service to the Master was worth any price.
    â€œWhat’s your name, cadet?”
    â€œCadet Mathaiah Grahaven, sir.”
    â€œAnd is this the kind of gesture that granted you a place on this ship, Cadet Grahaven?”
    The boy grinned. “Honestly, sir, I think it was tearing the college’s divisional banner on swearing day.”
    â€œYou tore the college banner?” Eamon laughed.
    â€œOnly a little, sir,” the cadet answered. “It slipped when I was hanging it; came clean off the pole, sir.”
    â€œIs it possible for a ‘little’ tear to bring a banner clean off its pole?”
    â€œLieutenant Kentigern said something of that ilk, sir. He also assured me that Captain Belaal had no stomach for my breed of carelessness. He was right about that, sir,” he added wistfully.
    â€œI trust that you are finding yourself less careless since you began this voyage, Mr Grahaven?”
    The boy nodded. “I am, sir,” he said eagerly.
    Eamon looked at the fruit. “Thank you, Mr Grahaven, to you and your fellows,” he said. “I will endeavour to pull no further faces at lunch or, at the very least, to pull them where you and your colleagues cannot see them.”
    Cadet Grahaven smiled. “Yes, sir.”
    Saluting again, the boy hurried off to join the watching cadets. He was evidently just in time to catch a good joke; they began roaring with laughter.
    â€œKeep yourselves together!” Spencing barked as the boys