The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 72: Right-Hand Man

Roman set the sword down on the table and ran his fingers down the center of the blade, the engraving of the metal rippling beneath his fingertips. "And I was worried you'd lost your touch."

Joshua swallowed. So Roman had doubted him. Well, he'd doubted himself too. He tried to hold onto the buzz from the courtyard, to hold that burning confidence inside him. He had returned, and anyone could see from that entrance in the courtyard that Roman was taking him back with open arms. His old position was within reach.

Focusing on that, he stepped away from the door and farther into Roman's receiving room. It had been so long. Of course, it had been five years since he'd stepped foot into any place in the Assassin's Court, but it felt like more time than usual separated him from Roman's rooms. He had barely dared to remember these rooms in all his time as Captain; they were almost sacred, only to be thought of on days when he needed to be grounded in his most potent memories of the Court.

Maybe it was just that they were so clearly an extension of Roman. The gray stone walls were barely softened by the single tapestry at the other end of the room, the coat of arms of the King of Assassins woven in red and black. Swords and rows of daggers hung from brackets on the walls, all carefully polished and honed. Light poured in from a skylight overhead, but the metal bars that formed a cage around it to catch anyone trying to sneak in through the window cut that light into strange shapes and shadows. If anything here had changed, it was only that Roman himself looked those five years older.

And Roman was watching him now, having finally taken his eyes off the sword. "How did you walk out of the castle with a national relic? Do they even know their captain's sword is missing its blade?"

Joshua savored his smile and the knowledge of the trick he'd pulled off for a moment. "No, they don't. Yet."

"Yet?"

He almost wanted to explain, but he bit his tongue to stop himself. His secret, for now. "There's a second part to the present that you'll get later."

Roman looked at him with an unreadable expression. You weren't supposed to tease the King of Assassins with half answers and later's. Joshua could have gotten away with it five years ago, but now?

"Interesting," Roman said slowly. "I suppose Laerhart helped you."

That stung. He didn't need the Thief to oversee his ideas, and he didn't want Roman to think he did. "No. Laerhart only helped steal Lijah's hilt to attach to the blade. I came up with and did the repla— everything else." He narrowed his eyes. He'd almost slipped up there.

Roman turned away slightly, his mouth twitching upwards. "Interesting," he repeated.

That sneaky bastard. He knew exactly what effect his words had— and he definitely knew Joshua was cursing at him internally. Roman was almost fully smiling now.

"Anyway," Joshua said, scrambling to get back on track. "I haven't lost my touch."

"I see that now. That was certainly an interesting return." Roman looked back to the sword. He had taken a decanter of wine from a different small table and was holding it, but was too preoccupied to do anything else. "You remembered. What Lijah said, all those years ago, about sword hilts and... everything."

"Of course." He remembered everything about Roman. He couldn't help it.

They had known each other a long time, since they had both been fifteen and stupid and ambitious. Roman had always been Queen Azura's favorite, before she stepped down, but Roman still had to prove himself at Court. Joshua— bumbling, brazen Joshua, new to Maenar from some unimportant southern town but with more than enough bravado to make up for it— had been the only one their age who could match Roman in a fight.