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Lachlan’s breath caught when a man finally stopped Johesha’s progress—much too long he been walking through a Jast encampment. They spoke. Lachlan could only imagine what about, but a few seconds later, the men started moving and Lachlan resumed breathing.
“What do you think he said,” Jessamine asked.
Lachlan tracked the captain’s progress. He was free to maneuver without restraints and still had his weapons, which suggested whatever he’d told the other man had been the right thing. Lachlan could take a guess and knew it probably would paint the captain as a traitor to Jast.
“Spy stuff,” Mattias answered, not far off base. “That’s… wow.”
“Mother would kill you first,” Jessamine said, as if to stop any ideas Mattias might be getting.
“I’m a grown man,” he groused.
“She’d argue with you.”
“She’d argue about everything.”
“Don’t worry,” Brendsen whispered from somewhere unseen. “The captain is the best.”
Lachlan knew that was true, but Captain Johesha’s abilities didn’t stop the way Lachlan’s gut churned even more when the captain disappeared into the tent. After a minute—which felt like ten—Lachlan started twitching. After another, he knew he couldn’t stay in his skin.
“Your Highness,” Jude said from his hiding place. “Stop moving.”
“I can’t. I can’t.” Lachlan lurched to his hands and knees, ready to bolt, when all the air was knocked from his chest.
“Forgive me,” Jude said, his gruff voice near Lachlan’s ear, his heavy body draped across Lachlan’s back.
“Me too, sir,” Brendsen said, his wiry frame locking down Lachlan’s legs. “We have orders.”
Lachlan pressed his forehead into the loam, angry with himself. He knew better and still hadn’t reined himself in. They were right, and he’d failed the test. He hadn’t considered running into the camp for the good of Jast, but for himself. “Fine,” he grunted in acquiescence. “I’m good. Let me up. On my honor.”
Those three words were enough for the two guards holding him down. They released Lachlan but watched him warily.
Lachlan held up his hands. “Just keep my mind engaged.” He turned to Mattias and Jessamine. “Keyanna told me Kaloma doesn’t have a standing army, but this looks–”
“They don’t,” Jessamine answered. “This isn’t a Kaloma army. But each community does oversee a group of militia volunteers. Sevens has three or four if there was a call to arms.”
“Father said the coffers were decimated after the war with Jast,” Mattias said.
“Which led to the Law of Means,” Jessamine added.
“But not for an army.”
They both shook their head.
“Mattias, you’ve been out in the woods a lot?” Lachlan asked.
The young man nodded.
“This look like a typical hunting party to you? Tarley and I met a hunter before she brought me back. He didn’t look like these men. He’d been filthy and hungry.”
Mattias skimmed the glade before looking back at Lachlan. “Not really. Father and I have come across a few. I’ve never thought of them as organized.”
“Makes me wonder where this group’s money came from. Know where the Law of Means collection goes? Doesn’t the government get it?” Lachlan asked.
“Supposed to, but like everything, the Rayoran—the church—receive their portion off the top,” Jessamine said.
“How much?”
“I’m not sure, but the normal tithe is big. At least half.”
