The Quartered Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B

been right as she was pleased that wounds—hers and her guards—seemed to be healing, she allowed Otavas to lead her away from the side so that the crew could cast off lines. Unfortunately, the morning's ceremony had done little to fill the emptiness left behind after the dissipation of despair. The ritual had required only a surface involvement and, looking back on it, she could barely remember what she'd said or done. She'd discovered during her long year of grieving that when performing many of the queen's duties, show sufficed where substance was lacking.
     
    * * *
     
    "We're away from the dock." Bannon nodded toward the deckhands stowing the lines. "Aren't you supposed to be Singing?"
     
    "Me?" Suddenly realizing how stupid that must sound, Benedikt hurriedly answered the actual question. "No. Not yet." The ex-assassin had been close by his side all day; charming because he wanted to be, threatening because he couldn't not. Benedikt wasn't sure how he felt about the unexpected companionship. Or how he was supposed to feel. "I don't know why you're even here," he protested.
     
    Bannon shrugged, a minimal rise and fall of one shoulder, deliberately infuriating. "I go where my prince goes."
     
    "Any danger out in the strait will come from the sea." The waves grew choppier as they moved from the shore. "How can you protect him from that?"
     
    "I can't. I guess I'll just have to depend on you."
     
    Sarcasm blended so smoothly with threat, a bard couldn't have done it better. Benedikt stiffened. He didn't have to put up with that kind of attitude from anyone. Not even from an Imperial assassin. His muscles had actually tensed to turn and walk away when Bannon caught and held his gaze, and he suddenly realized that turning his back on this man was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could do.
     
    Suddenly aware that they were standing alone, a considerable distance from anyone else on the ship, Benedikt's mouth went dry. "I won't let anything happen to him. To them. To their Majesties."
     
    "Good."
     
    Benedikt could clearly hear the consequences of failure in that single word. Walk away? What good would that do? Anywhere he went, Bannon could follow him.
     
    Where do assassins sleep ?
     
    Anywhere they want to.
     
    Imperial humor leaned toward the obvious.
     
    "Benedikt!"
     
    Jerked out of his search for a response by Kovar's summons, Benedikt realized it was time. He glanced down at the smaller man, who gracefully indicated that he should move toward the bow. Heart pounding, unsure of what he'd just gotten free of, he hurried gratefully to his place.
     
    Carefully keeping his concern from his face, Bannon watched the younger man walk away. In eight years in Shkoder, he'd never met a bard so precariously balanced. If he was a blade, I'd have him reforged .
     
    A product of Imperial Army training that many intended assassins didn't survive, Bannon'd often thought that the Bardic Hall, in insisting that bards were born not made, stupidly depended on talent at the expense of discipline. How they could justify sending this particular bard out into the world so ill prepared to face it, he had no idea. He couldn't decide if he was intrigued or appalled.
     
    I am definitely going to have to keep an eye on him.
     
    Benedikt felt the weight of Bannon's regard all the way to the bow. It doesn't matter what he thinks …
     
    Except that it did.
     
    The moment he opened his mouth, he would be responsible for the safety of the queen and her consort. He'd be taking on Bannon's responsibility, and Bannon clearly didn't believe it was good idea.
     
    As he stared down into the gray-green water, Benedikt's fingers tightened around the rail. He should never have agreed to do this. Should never have risked…
     
    "Any time, Benedikt."
     
    He half turned, intending to make some kind of excuse to the Bardic Captain, but saw only the queen. Saw her smile at him, and nod.
     
    " I can't think of anyone I'd rather have Sing