“Otho was found?”
At Nero’s quiet question, Cassius dropped his hand and looked to the Nadirii warrior, Peg.
“The bodies were preserved as best we could, boxed, and entered into the earth,” Peg answered. “We did this because we did not have the warriors to spare to transport them here. And I am sorry, Your Grace,” she aimed this at Cassius, “we do not know much of your gods, but we asked our goddess to bless them until this sacrament could be made by your own.”
“We’ll get them and return them to their families,” Cassius muttered. “And thank you for your care of them.”
She dipped her chin to him before she continued, her gaze moving to Elena, “Our trackers picked up a trail, it was hard to miss. Apparently, Zees enjoy leaving breadcrumbs. It was heading north. I know no more, my princess. I just know that Queen Ophelia led them that way.”
“Do you find it odd we have received no raven since?” Cassius asked Elena’s profile, for she was regarding Peg wearing a pensive expression.
She shook her head and looked down at him. “I find it hopeful.”
Cassius nearly smiled.
Of course she did.
“She would send word if there was word to be sent,” Elena finished.
“What did you do with the other bodies?” Ian asked Peg.
“We did not have time to make crates for all of them. There were too many,” Peg answered, and Cassius winced. “But we shrouded them securely and buried them.” She looked to Cass. “This is your way, is it not?”
Cassius nodded.
“Cass?” Rus prompted.
He expelled a heavy breath.
And then he decreed, “We cannot have Fern’s army slaughtering citizens before a war has even officially broken out.”
“Guess we’re outvoted,” Jasmine muttered to Mac.
Mac flung an arm around her shoulders.
She leaned into his frame.
“And we cannot have Silvanus and his Zees running amuck across Airen thinking he’s helping, when he’s not.”
“I did not know you formed that deep of a bond with him, Cass,” Elena remarked.
“I didn’t either,” Cassius replied, before he voiced his decision. “I need to make a proclamation, as soon as possible, that any unsanctioned aggression in this realm will be treated as the criminal act it is.”
“Until it’s sanctioned,” Jasmine put in.
“If it is,” Cassius retorted. He again looked to Ellie. “Your mother has my permission to proceed as she will to liberate Fern. That is all.”
“Then we must get to parchment and gather the heralds,” Elena said quietly.
He had hoped for a different end to this day.
Wine. Food. Their friends around.
And if they could, retiring early, if just so he could lie abed with Elena and hold her.
This being after he divested her of that fetching gown.
But this would clearly not be happening.
“I’ll order dinner sent to your stu—” Ellie started to say.
She did not finish, for a soldier entered the room.
His rank was high, a marshal, and if Cass remembered his name correctly, it was Angus.
“Sire,” he said on a smart bow. “A communication from the Nadirii squadron.”
He lifted his hand and in it was a message from a raven.
“Shite,” Cass muttered, pushing up.
He and the man met in between, Cassius walking with Elena close to his side.
The message was passed off, the marshal bowed, turned smartly and left the room.
Cassius unwound the missive and instantly made the decision any communications from anyone would be delivered to him in private.
For the message said,
Night Heights. Southeast Range. Bring Elena immediately. The queen is dying.
“No,” Elena whispered.
He shoved the ribbon of parchment to the person nearest, this being Rus, and turned to take her in his arms before he took her from the room.
But she moved first, taking a step away.
“My darling,” he said gently. “Come with me.”
He heard a gasp, he knew not from who, but he knew it meant the news was traveling the chamber.
“Ellie, please, come with me.”
“No,” she whispered again.
“Ellie—”
“No!” she shrieked, the pain in that one word clawing at his heart.
And with that, Cassius went to her.
Cassius met his men in the Great Hall next to the table now sporting spikes of deep purple and shocking blue gladiolus.
“Report,” he ordered when he stopped at their huddle.
“Scouts sent,” Mac told him. “Those to find the location of the Nadirii squadron, those to assess our path is clear in getting to her.” He paused and then said, “Cass, after the siege was defeated, we know they’re holding back, waiting for any excuse to start the war. But you’ve just sentenced their king to twenty-five years in prison. And with your attention divided, this would be the perfect excuse.”
“Yes, it would,” Cassius replied. “And until this news from the Nadirii, I would relish it starting so it could be over. But we need to hold off their hostility for the now as my priority is to get my woman to her mother.”
Mac nodded.
“Birds and riders sent,” Ian entered the conversation. “To True so he knows and can tell Serena. To Mars and Aramus, not to the Go’Doan.”
Cassius inclined his head.
“A battalion is readying,” Tone put in. “As are the Nadirii who traveled with Elena. We will be ready to ride out in no more than half an hour.”
Cassius tipped his head to Antonius and looked back to Ian. “I will need you to stay. The proclamation must be made, and the Bay kept secure. Also, send reinforcements to the Bailey. King Gallienus does not breathe a free breath until he serves his twenty-five years.”
“Of course,” Ian replied.
His gaze went through them all. “Rus stays with Ian. The rest of you ride with me and my princess.”
He received gestures of assent.
“This does not seem important now, but who knows what is important in times like these with all manner of things happening,” Rus spoke up. “The unicorns are restless.”
“It is my understanding they are bonded with Elena and I, and thus, probably sense her agitation,” Cassius told him.
“Do you wish for them to ride with you?” Rus asked.
“I wish for them to be free to make that decision,” Cass answered.
Rus nodded. “I’ll see to it that that their paddock is opened.”
Cassius held a moment in case there was more to report.
When no one spoke, he commanded, “Those of you going, get ready to ride. Ian, Rus, stay strong.”
He then turned and moved swiftly to the stairs, and once on them, took them two at a time.
In the upper hall, he made haste to his and Elena’s bedchamber, and upon entering it, saw her weapons littered the coverlet of their bed with her at the sofa, shoving things in her saddle bags.
Her gown was a pool of tulle on the floor.
Her body was now covered in her Nadirii gear.
Her face was harsh.
“All is ready, we ride out in half an hour,” he shared.
She did naught but grunt, flipping over the flap on her bag and tying the fastenings tighter than necessary.
He got close and called softly, “My lamb.”
“I suppose, soon, I will be joining you and Dora and Aelia and True and Farah’s family,” she stated.
He was surprised she said these words, for he did not know she knew of his conversation with Theodora.
Perhaps Dora told her.
“Ellie, cease a moment and come let me hold you,” he urged.
She ceased, only to turn woodenly him and look up in his eyes.
And then, even in her dread, preparing for the onslaught of grief, she spok
e words that completed her self-appointed task of coloring his world.
“I was certain my love for True was genuine. I longed for nothing but a life with him. But at one look at you, I did not think of it again. But now, Cass, in this time since that message was received, it is all I can think about.”
His words sounded choked when he asked, “The life you would have had with True?”
“No. The life I could have with you if we had been naught but us. Not prince. Or princess. A Dellish maiden and shepherd. A Firenz nomad and the girl who caught his eye. A Mar-el pirate and a bar wench. I do not care what we were, except, no offense, but I have not considered a life in Airen.”
“No offense taken,” he murmured.
“What would it be if that was us?” she asked. “What would be our lives if we were just man and woman who could meet and marry and make children? We could grumble about the decisions of kings and queens at night in our bed by a fire under a thatched roof, but their machinations had very little to do with the next day’s toil or the love shared when it was done.”
“Ellie,” he whispered.
“If we were that, when my mother got sick, she would be down the lane, resting in bed, cared for by her daughters, with those who loved her close at hand when—”
Her voice cracked, the harshness dissolved from her face, and it was then Cass took the step separating them and drew her tight in his arms.
Her body bucked once with a muted sob.
After that, she settled into heartbreaking shakes.
He put his lips to the top of her hair.
“We will get to her.”
“Serena—”
“A raven and rider have been sent.”
She held onto him, and his clever future wife, she allowed herself the time to feel what she was feeling and express it, before he heard her sniff and give his waist a squeeze.
He took his cue, let her go but lifted both hands to her jaws and swept his thumbs over her wet cheeks, dipping his face so it was in hers.
Her violet eyes shone with love and anguish.
I love you, he thought.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
Cass kissed her forehead.
Then he looked again in her eyes and said, “Let us go.”
110
The Distraction
Princess Serena
The Shanty, Notting Thicket
WODELL
Serena careened down the alley unsteadily, the only sure thing about her was her hold on the jug of grog.
She approached the spent bottles of whiskey farthest from the troll and did not waste much time assessing if they had a taste left (none) or if they were entirely empty (all).
Things had, of late, hit a critical stage.
The cases of liquor stacked in the doorframe of the building the troll guarded had run low.
And she had noted the troll not once, but several times, eyeing and even sometimes moving to the lock on the door and tugging on it or flicking it in frustration.
She also had noted that he seemed to be on the lookout for something.
This, she suspected, being his benefactor, who he did not know would never be returning.
The troll was growing restless.
Fortunately, True had sent word that it was time for her crew to move.
She could only assume the arrests had been made, that blow delivered to The Goddess-Damned Bloody Rising.
Now, she hoped she and Gal and Brix would deliver another.
There were ten of True’s men as well as Tor in their little room through the maze of alleyways, waiting for Serena, Gal and Brix to get into the building. They could have overcome the troll, but if the coin wasn’t behind that locked door, they didn’t want a big hullabaloo to indicate they were in search of it and had homed in on the Shanty.
However, if what they thought was inside was indeed inside, the soldiers and Tor would secure it until troops could be sent in to reclaim what was in it.
The time was nigh.
And this was it.
Serena moved closer to the troll, already noting she had his attention.
It was not the first time she had assessed his spent bottles. In fact, it was not the first time she had assessed the spent bottles she was now assessing.
This did not matter.
All the troll knew was that she was a drunkard. As such, she would not remember what she had done five minutes ago, much less the day before.
She got closer but stopped and looked at him with blinking eyes, squatting but still swaying.
She shuffled ever closer, but he did not move, just kept watching her.
She picked up some bottles, held them to the sun, set them down. More, she held up, sniffed at their mouths, set them aside, shuffled closer, all the while dragging her jug.
She came ever closer, and he pushed away from his lounge against the wall.
He did not arise, but he wanted her to know he was alert.
She scuttled back and eyed the lone crate behind him that had been at least five stacked when she had discovered him and the building he guarded.
Cautiously, she waddled closer.
“Fanshy a shag?” she slurred.
His deep-set black eyes at the sides of his pronounced nose looked around the matted locks falling in his face, this look aimed at her body.
“Mm?” she asked, shuffling closer. “Wanna have shum fun?”
His fangs moved against his upper lip.
Serena came ever closer, securing her grip on the jug.
“C’mon, big boy, les ’af shum fun.”
He sniffed her way, slightly recoiled.
And she moved.
Fast.
Coming up and swinging around, she brained him with the heavy, earthenware jug.
He fell sideways, and she threw the crock at him with all her might.
It hit him in the jaw, and he slammed down to his side.
With that, she dashed around him, took hold of his last crate, dragged it from its alcove and gripped it.
She then lifted it, turned and ran.
The troll snorted his fury, she sensed him shifting, and she prayed to the goddess he would leave his post and give chase.
She did not go fast, she did not go slow, and she did not move with coordination.
She was a drunken wench in the Shanty stealing whiskey from a troll, struggling against her inebriation and the weight of the crate.
She needed to be this, take him elsewhere and find ways to keep him occupied, for Gal told her if the lock on the door of that building was easy, it would take less than a minute to open. If it was difficult, it would take more akin to five.
And at what was found inside, it would take another five for Brix to swing rooftop to rooftop to get whatever the word was to Tor.
But they would not be able to get to it if she could not distract the troll.
She nearly cried out her relief when she heard him lumbering behind her.
As she had never dealt with trolls, she did not, regrettably, know how fast they moved.
So, when he caught her with his claws in the back of her tattered gown and took her off her feet, she was surprised.
She tossed the crate up and out, and it crashed to the cobbles.
Glass could be heard breaking.
Then she was tossed, and she grunted in pain when she landed hard against a wall right before the troll roared his fury so loud, if there was any glass in the panes of the dwellings around her, it would have shaken.
She landed in a crouch on her feet, got herself in hand, and watched the troll tear off the top of the crate.
Apparently, what was inside was not salvageable for his head turned her way, and his large mouth opened to emit another roar.
Oh, shite.
He was enraged.
How long had they been gone?
Two minutes?
Three?
She surged up to make a getaway a
t the same time lead him away from where Gal and Brix were doing their work.
But she got not a step in before she was grabbed again by her gown at the back. She heard a rending of fabric but ignored it, endeavoring to twist her body out of his hold to gain her feet.
She could fight on her feet.
She could run on her feet.
She could not do either dangling in the air.
Alas, she was not that way for long for she again was thrown with some power against a wall.
She felt the impact throughout her body.
However, she was prepared this time. Thus, she landed light, head up, aware, and was able to duck a swipe of the troll’s large hand. A swipe, that if it had landed, would likely have sent her staggering several feet and who knew what damage it would have done to her body.
Serena ducked again when he swiped the other way, this time scuttling out from between him and the wall.
She did not have time to get a hand on the dagger in her boot. She only had time to dodge two more blows before, when his torso was twisted, she raced beyond him at his other side, doing this away from the building he had guarded for so long.
He gave chase, and in the now, Serena did not bother to appear inebriated and ungainly.
She could not go so fast she would escape, and he would give up and return.
She absolutely did not go slow.
She shunted into an alleyway she knew was a wynd.
But he surprised her again by catching up with her, nearly grabbing hold on her, so she was forced to make a quick turn.
Sadly, doing this took her down a close.
And at the dead end of it, she knew she’d have to turn, stand and fight.
This she did.
Doing a whirl with her arm and fist in position, she caught him in his starkly protruding jaw.
She did not know if he felt pain, though his head snapped around.
She did know she felt pain, as his jaw felt like it was made of iron.
She ignored that and landed another blow to his jaw, but he was ready for it this time and shook it off instantly.
Serena then switched tactics, pivoted to her side, putting her weight in her left leg, and kicking out with her right, into his stomach.
He did not even expel air at her strike, and when she adjusted her aim to kick him in the groin, he caught her ankle and twisted it viciously.
The Dawn of the End (The Rising Book 3) Page 37