“You have no idea,” Josephine was saying, when her fairy ruined the mood.
The Lynx was…well, about as courteous as Mace remembered, which was almost a relief. Altair didn’t seem like a soldier interacting with a target. But then again, maybe this was how they’d been instructed to approach? Play the old-friends card, cultivate a false sense of security? He wanted to believe Altair had principles underneath the layers of attitude, but Mace wasn’t about to gamble his King’s safety away on misguided hopes. People could change; people could be bought. And Mordred had an abundance of buying power these days.
Guy emerged from the shadows with a smile and a sword; Mace regarded him with obvious suspicion. He looked as familiar as one would expect – it had been years, some of them hard, yet he still had that easy charm that Mace had once guessed would make him a good leader. But both of them were harder, now. Guy might have been demonstrating better humor, but Mace did not miss the edge to him, the steel that had helped him survive whatever had given him those scars. He had that sharpness, too. Maybe that was why the once-lieutenant seemed familiar in a new way…like there was something Mace should recognize, but couldn’t.
“Exactly,” he confirmed. “Didn’t your DS tell you about the illusion of choice?” The words were light, but his voice was still tense, and he did not put away his weapon when Guy did. Not yet. Not even when Josephine gave him a sidelong look, so full of judgment it practically sizzled. Don’t you think it’s within the realm of possibility that he’s here to help? You’re here, after all…
It’s also possible that a dragon will come flying out of his ass, Jo, but it aint likely.
“Then let’s not have a misunderstanding,” he said aloud. An eyebrow quirked when Guy told him to stand down, but Mace barely moved otherwise – neither to tense up or let down his guard. His sword hung loosely, his stance was easy, but it was obvious he didn’t feel ready to relax. Josephine tried to do it for him – “Tsk, a few scars give a man character,” she flirted with a wink – while her fairy remained stoic and unreachable. Defensive. It did not help when Guy inevitably asked for an explanation.
“That’s a very sensitive question,” he evaded, studying him intensely. He didn’t miss the younger man’s sigh, the way he looked off into the woods with a look that was almost…wistful. “Let’s just say that doing the right thing out here sometimes requires breaking rank.” Mace seemed to consider him, Altair, the situation, and finally opted to sheath his sword with a resigned shake of his head. If Guy was trying to play him, he was doing a good job. Nothing about his demeanor suggested he was on an op. Nothing about him suggested he even knew what was going on, out here – the kid was commenting on the local fauna, for Christ’s sake.
But Mace wasn’t in the mood for an ecology lesson. “What are you doing here, Guy?” he asked instead, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not here on Alliance business – if you were, you’d’ve been briefed on what I’m ‘up to.’ You know you’ve walked right into a brewing civil war? Hell of a time and place for a vacation.” Josephine cocked her head, watching their reactions just as closely as her fairy did. His tone had softened, but his demeanor was still guarded.
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