through the trees. He held a long sword, which caught the light—its blade sparkling silver and the hilt a bright gold. The sword was massive and must have weighed almost as much as Harold, who looked small and delicate—very much like his sister, though Harold’s hair was more red-blond. But he was still very much a fourteen-year-old boy, and he was most definitely using demon smoke to give him strength to lift the weapon.
Behind him were two aides, grown men, immaculately dressed. One of them stepped forward and welcomed everyone, and asked the leaders of each brigade to come forward with their new recruits. The Bulls were the first to be summoned, which was an honor—it seemed that Rashford’s brigade was highly thought of.
“What do we do?” Sam muttered.
Rashford replied under his breath, “Bow. Look strong. Don’t stare and, whatever you do, don’t wet yourself, Sam.”
March followed Rashford and Sam. He kept his head bowed as the prince spoke to Rashford. “So, Bull leader, how goes the training with your boys?”
“Excellent, Your Highness. They are fit, healthy, and tough. They’re learning sword and spear.”
“I hope to see them for myself soon. But today is for the recruits. How many boys have you brought?”
“Two new recruits to replace two who manned up last month.”
“Two to replace two—you’re confident they’re good enough?”
“The other brigades always bring more boys than there are places, but I select the boys to bring first. I won’t waste your time on any others.”
“You. Lift your head.” Harold pointed at March, who did as he was told. The prince stepped closer and stared into March’s eyes. “So much silver in those eyes. I’ve seen a few like them before. But how come they’re not at work in our mines in the north?”
“I have lived most of my life in Calidor, Your Highness. As servant to Prince Thelonius.”
“And you dare to come to Brigant after living with our enemy?” He glanced at Rashford. “Have you brought a spy into my camp, brigade leader?”
Rashford looked alarmed. “No, Your Highness.”
“I’m no spy, Your Highness. I hate Calidor.” And that was the absolute truth.
“And yet you brag about coming from that place! The home of our enemies!” The prince grabbed March’s hair and wrenched his head to the side and down. It was all March could do to not cry out. March looked up into Harold’s face and saw no anger or irritation, merely a curiosity.
Harold held March’s hair tight and leaned close to whisper, “Do you think I’m a fool? You’re clearly a spy. Or worse: you’re an assassin.”
March had to think of something to convince Harold. “If I have spied for anyone, it was for your father, Your Highness. I had been providing information to another Abask man called Holywell. Holywell worked for your father.”
This was all true as well.
At the mention of this name, Harold’s face lit up and he released March’s hair. “Holywell! Ha ha. I know him. I remember seeing him thrashed years ago. He was a fighter. A true Abask. A true hard man.”
“He was a friend to me but, alas, he’s dead now.”
“How so?”
“I was with him on the Northern Plateau. We had got something for your father and were fleeing to Brigant.” The “something” they’d got had been Edyon, but March would not reveal this to Harold. “We were attacked by Pitorians and a demon,” March went on. “The Pitorians got Holywell. The demons got the Pitorians. I escaped.”
Harold was grinning now. “What a tale! Your stories are as wild as Holywell’s. I was never sure how much of Holywell’s talk to believe, nor am I sure about yours yet, but I see something of him in you. Do you fight as well as him?”
March shook his head. “Alas, no, Your Highness. Holywell was an expert with knives, and I witnessed him using them on a Pitorian, a sheriff’s man, whose death was bloody but very quick.”
“Yes, that’s right. I saw him use his knives. You did know him!” Harold nodded in approval. “What’s your name?”
“March, Your Highness.”
“I’ll be watching you, March. I expect great things of all my boys and especially of you.”
The Bulls were ushered away and the next brigade was brought forward.
Sam was in awe of March having had a conversation with Harold. “I wouldn’t have been able to say anything if he’d spoken to me. But you were chatting with him as casually as you’d talk to the baker!”
“The baker doesn’t pull me by the hair. Or have the power