Chapter 8 Toran #2
“I’ll do what I can, but he does rank above me.”
Toran stood from the desk. “If only personality was taken into account when deciding ranks.”
Quint smirked. “If that were true, then I’d be the one ruling this country.”
He laughed. “If that were true, you’d be ruling the world.”
Quint was right. Just like he was about nearly everything else.
Toran stood on the perimeter of the Drowning Square, watching as two men laid down another board for the new platform around the Witch’s Well. It’d be ready long before morning came.
None of the shop owners in the square were helpful. Two remembered seeing a girl with him after the explosion, but neither one knew who she was or where Toran might find her. He let out a long breath. He still had one shop to visit.
The butcher in the back corner would have had the best view of the well and the platform from his large bay window. Toran hoped the man’s memory would be as good as his view.
The door to the shop stuck when he tried to open it, the bottom scraping against the wooden floorboards as he pressed his shoulder to the pane and heaved it open. The man behind the counter didn’t so much as look up at his struggle.
“Might want to get your door fixed,” Toran said, his tone jovial. “You could be deterring customers with it.”
“Not customers,” the man said, eyes still on something behind the counter. “Kids with their thieving little fingers.”
Toran glanced around the shop. There was nothing on this side of the counter to steal. Everything was securely behind the glass display case.
“What can I do for the Crown?” the man asked, at last looking up at him.
“I came to ask if you remembered seeing a girl in the square yesterday.”
“A girl, huh?”
“She has light brown hair, lots of freckles, and blue eyes.” Eyes that had haunted his dreams last night—replacing Loriana’s for the first time in months.
The man raised his brows. “You think I can see anyone’s eye color from way back here?”
Toran plowed ahead. “She remained behind after the drowning failed. Was near the platform before it exploded and close to me after.”
“Sounds like you should be asking yourself such questions if she was so close to you.”
“I’m trying to find her,” he said. “Do you remember her or know anything about her?”
“Can’t say that I do,” the butcher said, his voice turning gruff. “Now, you gonna purchase something, or can I get back to taking stock of my inventory?”
Toran left the shop feeling much like a dog with his tail between his legs. Stepping back out onto the cobblestone street, he yanked hard on the handle to close the stubborn door behind him.
“You’re wasting your time.”
He startled at the hard female voice. Turning, he found the red-haired guard from yesterday—the one who’d followed Fell off the platform before the drowning—leaning against a shop awning pillar.
“Excuse me?”
She nodded to the butcher shop, then gestured to the rest of the shops surrounding the square. “You’re wasting your time,” she said again. “They can’t help you find who you’re looking for.”
He frowned. “And how would you know who I’m looking for?”
She snorted, the sound dismissive. “You haven’t exactly been quiet about it.”
“Right.” He didn’t need this. Especially from someone working for Fell. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you.”
He turned away, but the guard was quick to cut him off.
“Sergeant Genna Rizzo,” she said, placing a hand over her heart.
Rizzo—he’d never met her, but he’d certainly heard the name. Though just nineteen, and therefore a guard for only three years, Genna Rizzo was not well-liked among the ranks for four reasons.
She’d broken every trainee record they had in her first two weeks.
She reminded the other guards of that fact every chance she got.
She was both gorgeous and brilliant.
And she reminded them of that fact every chance she got.
If anyone asked him, Genna had plenty of reason to gloat. She was a damn near perfect shot with a bow and arrow and wasn’t bad with a sword, either. She’d made sergeant a year after graduation but hadn’t moved up the ranks since because she didn’t belong to a legion.
Toran mimicked her gesture of formality, placing a hand over his heart. But before he could say anything, she lowered hers and said, “I know who you are.”
“In that case, excuse me, I have work to do.” He dropped his hand and sidestepped Genna.
“You’re looking for the girl from yesterday,” Genna said to his back. “The one who tried to warn you about the explosion.”
He stopped again. “You saw her?”
“Of course I saw her.” An air of superiority snuck into Genna’s voice. “I received top marks in the Observation section of guard training. And she was rather dramatic about it.”
Toran clenched his jaw but turned around to face Genna. “Do you know where she went? Where I might find her?”
Genna’s face was a mask of indifference. It was her eyes, alight with puckish charm, that gave away her interest. “Yes and yes.”
He waited. “Will you tell me?”
“I will,” she said. “If you do something for me.”
His teeth ground together. If this was how Genna spoke to all her higher-ranking officers, then it was no wonder she wasn’t in a legion. He didn’t appreciate being extorted by a fellow guard.
“I’ll find her myself.” For a third time, he turned away. And again, Genna hopped in front of him.
“Wait,” she said. Her tone grew softer, that superiority fading with every word. “I just, I need a legion. No one will take me. No one wants a female guard in their legion, especially now with all the Witch drownings.”
He didn’t say the increased Witch suspicion had nothing to do with her being undesirable legion material. “You want to be a part of my legion?”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
Toran tried to hide his surprise. Typically, guards competed for a spot in a captain’s legion. But ever since he’d returned from Aeos four guards short of a full legion, no one wanted to serve under his leadership. He couldn’t blame them.
Genna was the first to show a hint of interest.
“What about Fell?”
Genna shifted her stance—the only sign of her discomfort. “What about him? I’m not part of his legion. He only drags me around like some trained pet. As the Crown, you outrank him, don’t you?”
He did, but he hated playing his “Crown” card on other King’s Guard captains. Even Fell.
Genna inhaled. “Look, I know it seems like I’m asking a lot, but I’m really not. I’ll never bother you for anything after this, if that’s what you want. You won’t even know I’m part of your legion. I’ll go about my business and you can go about yours.”
He frowned down at her, something occurring to him for the first time: It wasn’t her desire to be in a legion driving her to bargain with him. It was a need to get away from Fell.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll make you part of my legion—”
Genna’s face transformed as a smile spread across it.
“—after I find the Witch. Deal?”
Her smile slipped. But after a second, she nodded. “Your girl is in the Walled Prison,” Genna said. “She’s Fell’s prisoner—the one he intends to drown tomorrow.”