Page 72 of Carousel

He calls for the cooks, who cover the swan and take it away.

They wheel in another couple of carts. These are laden with plates of pre-cut beef, tubers and greens.

Once the plates are laid out, the officers and FIs begin to eat heartily and resume their chatter.

As if the last ten minutes never happened at all.

Later, while some have finished their main course and others are still eating, and more rum is being poured from decanters, Dezeeves wanders over to the other table, striking up animated conversations with some of the other FIs and officers there.

I take the opportunity, now we are alone and Ephraine is in conversation with the younger Rhavnan woman across the table, to turn to Drake.

“Was that the test all along?” I ask him quietly. “Get us to send away the swan?”

He barely looks at me.

“It would seem that way.”

“But what would doing that prove?”

“I understand all this as much as you do.” His mouth tightens. “But, if I had to make a guess…”

“Yes?”

“We didn’t fight them at the first opportunity. It made us look weak.” His eyes glaze. “Pliable. Which I can imagine are good traits for conversion to work.”

He looks, really, not much different to how he always looks.

But somehow, I believe there’s a silent rage inside him right now. I can sense it warping the air around him the way the flames in a fire might.

I face him fully. “You couldn’t have fought them.”

He scowls. It’s about the most emotion I’ve ever seen his face reveal.

“Couldn’t I?” He turns his gaze to Dezeeves’ hunched back. “I have excellent aim. I wouldn’t have missed.”

“That may be, but you’d have been killed too. Just look at Ephraine. He looks built to assassinate.”

Drake glances over at Ephraine. But doesn’t look particularly impressed. Just takes a sip of his drink.

“Besides,” I continue. “Did no one ever tell you more wars are won at the dinner table than on the battlefield?”

He swallows, rather forcefully. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

I… don’t like it.

“What?” I ask.

“Did you have many conversations with the Queen, while you were living in the Palace?”

I flinch. “No. Never. Why?”

He speaks stiltedly, eyes fully on me again. “I believe the line you just said was one of her particular favourites.” He pauses. “And I’ve been listening to you. The way you were speaking to Dezeeves. The way you sent away the swan. It made me believe…”

“Made you believe what?”

He leans in further. “Ara. You cried out when our hands touched.”

I nod.