A Flight of Ravens John Conroe (great books for teens txt) 📖

her story was that I, as his commanding officer, was the one standing beside her when she asked him to explain himself.  And what she also somehow forgot to mention was that immediately upon his final comment, she turned to me and said, Well, Captain, I certainly hope you take all of that into account before you assign punishment, and then she left.”

More laughter.  “And to forestall any more questions on the matter, I did immediately give him a punishment detail—I sent him home to wait on his mother and sister for a full week.”

Mrs. Holden was able to give me a little smile at that, although Drew’s sister Tina was sobbing too hard to look up.

“Drew Holden was a member of my graduating class from Despair, as are Soshi and Cort over there,” I said, waving a hand at where they sat with Rose, Brin, Corell, Terry, Trell, Kassa, and Jella.  “Despair is aptly named, as it is a forge of will and fortitude.  It is a place of misery where you are forced to reach deep inside yourself, to dig up the willpower to slog onward, and even more, the ability to put your trust into the hands of your fellow aspirants.  Without that trust, without that blind reliance, even the hardiest soldier fails. Despair taught me that I could put my own trust into the hands of my fellow graduates, as well as my fellow Squadron members.  Drew Holden was one of the men and women who taught me that lesson.  He never broke trust—not with me, not with his teammates, not with his kingdom, and not with his queen.  I had intended to tell story after story, but that’s been well done already, by people better at it than me. Instead I will just say this: Drew died defending his kingdom from the most egregious breach of trust I can think of.  He died taking action to make a difference, and his actions saved multiple lives.  He died not because of a lack of preparation or skill, but simply because the fates of war picked him.  And because of his actions, the people responsible for these acts of treason, for this breach of trust, have been brought to justice and held accountable.  He died at the top of his game, in the thick of the action, standing against those who would harm what he held most dear, and facing death head on.  We should all be so lucky when our time comes.”

Chapter 41

I lay on my back, hands behind my head, studying the view overhead.  I had never seen it before, and it was completely fascinating.  A canopy of dark blue velvet, speckled with bits of silver thread, each placed in a tiny cross.  The total effect was a recreation of the Nengled night sky, complete with constellations like that of the Huntress, the Mother Bear and her Cub, the Ladle, and the Golden Bow.  I was pretty sure that the silver thread was real silver, extruded into wire so fine, it could be sewn into fabric.

“You are awfully quiet,” my companion said.

“I’ve never slept in a queen’s bed before,” I replied.

“Not true.  Remember when we were little and we snuck into my mother’s room in the summer palace?  We fell asleep on her big bed.”

“I have only vague memories of that, and it’s completely not the same.  Perhaps I should have said, I have never before slept with a queen upon her bed.”

“Ah, and now that you have, how does it rate?” she asked.  I rolled on my side and studied her face.  She was leaning on one elbow, the sheets falling away from her naked skin in a way that required all my willpower to hold her gaze.  One delicate brow was slightly raised, telling me that my answer was important.

“Other than the interesting overhead, it was exactly the same as sleeping with a crown princess.  If you set aside the fact that royal guards are stationed outside the door and we don’t have to sneak through secret tunnels and passageways.”

“A crown princess?”

“Well, maybe I should say the crown princess.”

“Perhaps you should at that,” she warned with a smile.

Despite my levity, her question had held enormous importance to her.  Brona is always on guard for changes in herself, with me as her principal tripwire. Since the first moment we met, I knew she was different from anyone else, and I was either too honest or too stupid to not tell her about it.  Brona does not carry the same internal compass of right and wrong as most others do.  Her father has the same trait, as do many other people of power and importance—an almost complete lack of empathy or regard for everyone around them.  She just takes it to greater extremes.

All those many years ago, I had told her about it in great detail, using the brutal honesty of children.  And she listened.  I think perhaps her mother had tried to talk to her about it, but there are always barriers to communication between parents and children.  But another child, one who was unafraid of her, caught her curiosity.  She had demanded to know more, for me to point out examples, for me to explain how I could tell how others were feeling by observation and by the mental exercise of placing myself in their position. And so we have continued on over the years.  Does she and can she care for others, truly?  I think so, but only a very, very few.  I firmly believe that she misses her mother.  I also firmly believe that she holds me in a regard that may actually be truly love, just as I believe that her father really only loves just her.  But most people, she is not attached to, not truly.  She meant every word about Drew at the funeral, but I doubt she will miss him for a second.  But she tries very hard to understand how most of us feel