“If the governor would be so kind,” Gaz said, “we’ve got a patrol to maintain.”
Wren searched one last time for something. Anything. And came up empty. He nodded his head and even though he tried hard not to, he ended up dropping his gaze to the ground.
“Morning, then,” Gaz said. Wren watched the two pairs of feet swivel and walk away. And just a few moments later he heard Janner mutter, “Little brat.”
It shouldn’t have seemed like such a big deal, but in that moment Wren felt like he’d lost something important. He was supposed to be the Governor. Supposed to be in charge. But even his own guard didn’t respect him. And why should they? He was just a stupid little boy, playing at being king. Tears rose up, and he hated himself all the more for crying.
Wren dug his palms into his eyes for a few moments, tried to push the tears away. It didn’t matter, really. It didn’t matter whether people respected him or even liked him. There was still work to do, and it was his job – his duty – to do it. At least until someone else came along.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, and his nose on his sleeve, and made his way to the main gate. Up ahead he could hear raised voices, not quite loud enough to make out the words but enough to get the gist of the tone. Painter and Luck were already there, taking abuse from one of the guardsmen.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I told you already, nobody’s coming in or out today,” the guard snapped. “And if you don’t quit buzzing around here, I’ll have to juice you both.” He waved his stunrod back and forth for emphasis.
“It’s OK,” Wren called. “I asked them to come.”
The guard turned and saw Wren. It was Lane, one of the guards who’d been on duty when the attack happened, and one of the nicer people in the guard. If he was still posted, that must’ve meant they’d called everyone in. It also explained why Lane wasn’t his usual cheerful self.
“Governor,” Lane said. “No one told me anything about these two.”
“I know, Lane. But it’s alright.”
“Does your mother–” Lane caught himself. “Did you clear it?”
“Yeah, it’s OK,” Wren replied. “You’re not going to get in trouble.”
“Well, do me a favor and tell that to Connor, huh?”
Wren smiled. “I will.”
“Alright,” Lane said. He authorized the gate unlock, opened it, and nodded to Luck and Painter as they entered. “Sorry for giving you boys a hard time, but orders are orders. And it’s been a long night.”
“Hey, it’s your job,” Luck said with a shrug and his quick smile. “We won’t break anything while we’re here, promise.”
Lane said, “Yeah, see to it you don’t. Best to keep a low profile today.” Lane closed the gate behind them and relocked it.
“Thanks, Lane,” Wren said.
“Yep.”
Wren led the two away from the gate. “You guys want to go back over to the side yard?”
“Actually,” Luck said. “You mind if we go in? Sun’s starting to get to me.”
“Um, I guess so. We should probably go around the side though.”
“Yeah, what’s going on with all that? People seem pretty buttoned up today.”
Wren shrugged.
“Old people stuff?” Luck asked.
“Yeah,” Wren answered. He adjusted course and took his companions away from the main entrance, around the eastern edge of the building. They passed the two guards on patrol again, who gave them a quick once-over. Wren kept his head down. He asked, “How’re you guys doing?”
“Can’t complain,” Luck said.
“You can al-al-always complain,” Painter said.
“Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve gotta hang out with you, so that’s like the worst,” Luck replied. He swatted Painter on the arm. “And for some reason I’m having trouble with the ladies lately.”
“Not just l-l-l,” Painter said, the “L” sticking in his mouth. He shook his head once, quickly. “Lately.”
The three walked to a short set of stairs leading down to one of the main building’s lesser used entrances, and Wren tried the door. Locked.
“See what I mean?” Luck said. “Buttoned up.”
“Just a sec,” Wren said. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he really didn’t feel like going back around to the front. And these days, it hardly took him a second. He stretched out through the digital, and in the next moment the lock chirped and he pulled the door open. “Don’t tell my mom.”
They entered a hallway, one level below the main floor of the building. It was cool, and quiet, and minimally lit. It always seemed to Wren that the place had been built to hold far more people than were allowed in it now.