Sithe stared openly. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“Protect him,” Lady Heiler said, as fervently as the
first time. “He’s barely eleven years old. He hasn’t a hair on his chin, and
they’re making him an officer! This based purely on his skill with heat. The eventual benefit he’ll provide for the
army is enough for them to bend over backwards to give him everything he wants.
And what he wants, more than anything, is for a chance to advance. To prove
himself.”
Sithe crossed her arms over her chest. “Surely he has that.”
“Yes, and he’s drunk on it.” Lady Heiler’s eyes flared. “Junior
Sentinel Loki Heiler. Do you know how intoxicating a title like that is for a
little boy who’s spent his entire life in exile? You know about his affliction,
don’t you?”
Sithe frowned. “... Seizing sickness.”
Sithe frowned. “... Seizing sickness.”
“Yes! He can’t walk without
his magic. That’s why I taught him in the first place! I said we lived in a
fishing village. I’m sure you know the type. There’s no room for leisure. No
time for wastefulness. No tolerance for sloth. Loki was ... nothing there. Worse than nothing. He
was a drain on them. They hated him. I brought him here to get away from that,
and now all of a sudden the exact opposite problem has him dizzy and wild with
delusions of power. He won’t listen to me. I can’t protect him anymore. I’m his
mother, and I can’t ... I can’t ... !”
Sithe flinched. She said, slowly, “... The only way to help him now is
within the ranks. Civilians hold as much sway over the Guards as a family of
rats over a baker. And even if I had the
fortitude to make it through training, I wouldn’t earn a Hawk.”
Lady Heiler sneered. “I might have known. I should have
guessed. There’s nothing for it, is there?”
Sithe frowned. “Not ... nothing. I wouldn’t catch the good Sister's notice, but I think I know someone who
would.”
* * *
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