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“But can they fight?” a man who looked to be around Olympus’s age and bore a resemblance to him asked.
“My eldest son, Patrius,” Lord Vikhrov explained. “You were not present for the introductions earlier.”
I nodded to Patrius, then answered him with, “I think they have the potential to fight, but they are untrained and unorganized. They are strong, though, which is why I think General Rufus was so intent on snatching as many of them as he could to add to his army.”
That bit of information drew an immediate reaction from the Good Port people, and half of Magnus’s people as well.
“So it doesn’t matter what the wild wolves are like,” Patrius said, immediately drawing a conclusion. “They’re just bodies to add to King Julius’s army.”
“Are they going to attack us?” Olympus’s son asked, his bottom lip quivering in fear. Clearly, his older sister was the one who inherited the balls in that family, although Hector was still very young.
“I don’t know,” I answered him honestly. “I doubt they’ll start whatever they plan to do this far west. They’ll attack the cities first. And even then, just because General Rufus has forced wild wolves into his army, that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to train them or use them as good soldiers.”
“Then why bother taking them?” Zangar—who sat near the head of one of the side tables rather than at the head table, showing he was not one of Lord Vikhrov’s important sons—asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered again. I glanced back to Dmitri. “He knows, I think, but he refuses to tell anyone.”
Dmitri was either oblivious to all of the glances that were shot his way or he ignored them on purpose. The servants had just started bringing out steaming platters of every kind of meat imaginable. They looked as though they would bring them to the head table first, but Dmitri grabbed one of the servants with a platter of dark meat and forced the man to bend over so he could take a handful of meat before it was served to anyone else.
I turned away with a sneer, shaking my head. Dmitri was behaving like the very worst of the wild wolves. From the few stories Peter had shared with the Sons about his time with Dmitri when they were part of Sascha’s pack, I would have thought Dmitri would know better. Living with the wild wolves for over a year must have eroded whatever civilized manners he’d once had.
Unless he was behaving like an ass on purpose.
“Even though this General Rufus is all the way across the frontier near the mountains, I am still gravely concerned,” Lord Vikhrov said. Fortunately, he spoke to Magnus, which meant I could eat instead of having to talk. “How big of a threat to the frontier do you think the man is? How big of a threat is King Julius?”
“I would like to tell you that they’re no threat at all,” Magnus said, letting go of Peter’s hand—Peter seemed to have recovered once Dmitri returned to the far end of the table. “I would like to tell you that my brother has no interest in reclaiming the frontier and that the only concerns we all have are building up our homes and cities and making certain everyone thrives in peace.”
“But you cannot guarantee that,” Lord Vikhrov said, disappointment and worry in his voice and expression.
“I cannot,” Magnus said with regret. “But I can assure you, if everything that we are building is threatened, we will fight to preserve and defend ourselves and our friends.”
I smiled a bit at the strength and determination of Magnus’s words. Magnus, more than anyone I’d ever known, was dedicated to peace and prosperity for everyone. That was why I was proud to serve him as my king.
A few more minutes passed, and I tuned out the conversation around me in favor of eating. On Lefric’s recommendation, I took some of the lamb from one platter and a bit of fish from another. Both proved to be as delicious as anything I’d eaten for years. Architecture and gardening weren’t the only strengths of Good Port. It was brilliant when it came to food as well.
“How much of a leash does Dmitri have you on?” Lefric asked as the servants brought around plates of vegetables done in every way imaginable.
“I don’t know,” I said, noticing that Jace and Sebald were paying attention to what Lefric was asking. Peter and Neil too, though they were too far away to be in the center of the conversation. “He kept me close to him on the boat, but he doesn’t seem to care where I am now.”
I twisted to look at Dmitri again. He’d somehow gotten hold of a huge glass of wine and was guzzling that down.
“I’m taking the Sons on a tour of the city tomorrow,” Lefric went on. “Assuming the business with Eneko is done by then and Vikhrov will allow people to leave the estate.”
“He’ll let us leave regardless, won’t he?” Sebald asked. “He knows we’re not spies.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Jace corrected him, “he just has to take Magnus’s word for it.”
“But we’re not spies,” I said, cutting into my lamb.
“I know that,” Lefric said, rolling his eyes a bit, “but for all Vikhrov knows, we’re a pack of wicked spies.”
“You’re no such thing,” Olympus said from the other side of the table, proving that he was listening to us, even though he was looking at Magnus and his father and taking part in that conversation.
“You don’t know that,” Lefric said, speaking up a bit. “Maybe I’ve been sent from the Old Realm to seduce you into spilling Good Port’s secrets in bed.”
“The only thing I’m spilling in bed—” Olympus began with a cheeky grin.
Lord Vikhrov cleared his throat loudly. “Your children are present,” he reminded Olympus.
