Bodies. My scouts had been shot out of the trees.
My knees went weak as I stumbled toward the nearest child. Barely thirteen, she stared up at me with lifeless, terrified eyes, her arms twisted unnaturally behind her. An arrow had been shot into her chest, and blood pooled beneath her.
"Oh Mother," I whispered, stroking her cold face.
The air left Felix's chest in a gasp as he passed me, kneeling in front of another body ahead of me.
Locke, sweet Locke.
His bruised and bloodied body had been trampled, but some kind person had seen fit to move him to the tree. Or perhaps he'd been slowing them down. Next to him was another kid, perhaps sitting next to him in the canopy. I'd thought they'd be safe in the trees. But clearly, whoever had come for the camp had known what they were doing.
Sickness rose to my throat as the fort came into view.
A mixture of soldiers and children lay in the front of the camp, some of them barely in their uniforms. The soldiers had brandished their weapons, as had some of the children. But all of them had met the same grisly fate. They had been woefully unprepared for this massacre.
And leading the charge was Jorad.
I fell to my knees in front of him, the air leaving my lungs. His brown eyes—the same as Felix's—stared over my shoulder into nothing. He'd fought valiantly—no less than three arrows stuck out of his stomach and shoulder. But the gash in the center of his chest had been the killing blow.
"No."
Felix stumbled over to kneel next to me, his hands remaining at his side, perhaps afraid if he reached out to touch his cousin's body, the vision would become real.
I turned to my right, to Nicolasa's hut. The Nestori had been dragged out of her house and slaughtered in her mint field.
A storm is brewing in the south. And I'd left a paltry twenty soldiers. Would she have told me if I hadn't left enough? Had she even known, or had the Mother merely warned her that death was impending? All we can do is pray to the Mother.
She seemed so far away right now. All these lives taken in an instant, mercilessly slain for no reason other than that they were here. These were my soldiers, my people. And I'd allowed this to happen.
Not me, Beswick.
I balled my fist. There would be one more life taken this day. One that truly deserved it.
The army had started to trickle in behind me, but I ran past them. Once I left the forest, I broke out into an all-out run toward the huddle of people surrounded by a halo of torchlight. The outline of the prison carriage was my focus, and I let my boots slide across the wet grass as I skidded to a stop in front of it.
Beswick smiled from behind the bars. "Something amiss back at camp?"
"Let him out," I snarled, pulling my knife. "I want to gut him myself."
"Brynna, what happened?" Luard said. "What's going on?"
"They're dead!" I cried, my voice growing higher as my rage boiled my mind. "All of them. Every single person. Because of him."
Silence echoed from behind, but that slimy son of a bitch just chuckled.
"I wish I could take credit for this. But if you have a problem, you'll have to take it up with Queen Ilara." He crossed his arms over his chest, as if bored. "She and I have been in contact, you see."
"I'm well aware of that, you traitor," I snarled.
"Businessman," he said. "I never close the door on an enemy, so I kept tabs on her in case there was ever a chance I could get what I want."
"I thought you wanted her off the throne," Luard said.
"I did, but I wanted my own kingdom back more," Beswick said. "Being a rebel leader is an underpaying gig, you see. And as luck would have it, a chance appeared, right after your sister left Ilara's good graces. A ransom, a rather large one, was placed on her head, as I said. So I offered my services to the queen, along with the promise that I could also deliver the princess." He laughed. "When I told her that, she said I could do whatever I wanted in her city as long as I brought you back alive."
I shook my head. "Why the hell does she want me alive?"
"Why, I have no idea. Perhaps she just wanted to kill you herself."
"But this…" I gestured at the forest behind us.
"I told my messenger to expect me back by sunup, and if I didn't arrive, to go to Ilara and tell her exactly where to find your people." He smiled. "Should've worked a bit faster, princess."
My stomach churned. "All this…for money?"
"I thought you would've learned your lesson the first time. You don't ever take your eyes off your main enemy. You—"
I slammed my fists against the iron. "Shut up!" He jumped back, fear finally appearing on his smug face as I clawed at the bars. "You shut your Mother-forsaken mouth. I'm guilty of a lot of things, but this—this is your fault. I gave you the chance to be my ally. And you walked away just so you could keep your little kingdom. You have the blood of every person in there on your hands. And I will make sure that you pay for it." I thumbed my knife. "Open the gate, Luard."
"Take a breath," Luard said, pulling me away. "You aren't going to mutilate him."
"Watch me," I growled. "He deserves it—"
"He deserves justice, and that's what we'll provide in Niemen," Luard said. "Trust me. We can dig into the archives of old Niemenian lore to find the most fitting end for him."
"Luard, they're all dead," I whispered, pressing my face to his chest. "Everyone is dead. They're all dead." I could say nothing else, repeating it as my brain finally broke from the exhaustion and grief.
And just when I thought it couldn't hurt any more, I heard a soft question.
"Where's Bea?"
I froze, my eyes opening wide as grief and pain came anew. I lifted my head to look into Katarine's bright blue eyes and was rendered speechless.
She backed up three steps then took off.
Chapter 54
Katarine
Mother, please. Don't take her away from me.
I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed in my life. The Mother wouldn't be so cruel as to give me only a moment of happiness. Had I not been a faithful servant? Had I not tried to do the best I could as princess and steward of my adopted homeland?
But as I came down the path, perhaps the Mother had forsaken us all.
The sight of children's bodies lining the forest floor drew sickness to my lips, but I kept walking. They were a silent witness to the numb understanding enveloping me, as I prepared myself for what I might find through those open gates.
In the center of camp, Felix sat hunched over the body of his cousin, holding him as if he were a child. He took no notice of me, whispering soft words to the young man who he'd taken such pride in training.
"He's gone, Kat," Felix said as I walked by. "Who did this?"
I couldn't find the words, not until I knew where my wife was. My brain couldn't reconcile the happy place I'd known a few hours ago with the gruesome picture before me. Children lay strewn about, their blood staining the dirt where they'd played. Our small wedding altar was now covered in arrows.
My feet moved beneath me, forcing me to explore every inch of this massacre. Everywhere I looked, more bodies, more death. More innocent lives cut short by unyielding cruelty.
A loud gasp drew my attention to the front. Jax, Brynna's surly friend who'd never shown any emotion other than annoyance, paled as he took in the sight. Tears spilled down his face as he ran to the Nestori healer.
"Nicolasa," he whispered as he cradled her. He pressed her eyelids closed and bowed his head in prayer. "Be with the Mother."
I had no words of comfort to share with him. All that I felt was numbness. And fear of what other terrors I might find in this place.
Slowly, I turned to the mess hall, knowing I needed to look, but not wanting to. Perhaps if I stayed in this spot forever, I might never have to know. But a stronger voice pushed me to walk toward the hall, to face the reality as bravely as Beata had. So I let go of Felix's hand, and steeled myself.
I push
ed open the door to the mess hall, finding it blessedly devoid of death. All the tiny soldiers had scrambled to protect the camp, no cowards among them. Still, the tables were overturned, and even Beata's large vat was on its side. The decorations from our wedding had been left alone—perhaps a small miracle.
I slowly walked toward the back, my heart thudding in my ears as tears spilled down my face. If she was gone, I prayed it had been quick. That she hadn't suffered long. My lip trembled as I pushed aside the small curtain separating the main hall from the kitchen area.
Light spilled in. All the food had been thrown on the ground and smashed, the bags of flour ripped and spilled everywhere. In one fell swoop, they had destroyed what had taken Beata a few weeks to assemble.
My love, however, was nowhere to be found—and a new fear blossomed. What if they'd taken her back to Forcadel?
I turned and ran from the mess hall. I threw open every door and cabinet, calling Beata's name. Panic rose in my chest as I thought of her in the dungeons. She was strong, but against the whips and chains, how soon would she break?
When I came running out of the sleeping hall, I nearly ran into Felix. His wordless stare conveyed his fear, and undid me completely. With a heaving sob, I collapsed into his arms, allowing him to catch me.
"She's not here," I said. "She's gone."
"We'll find her."
"Felix, they're going to hurt her. I don't know if she can handle that."
"We'll get her out. Brynna won't stand for this." He took my face in his hands. "Are you sure she's not…"
"I've looked everywhere," I whispered.
"Kat?"
My shoulders dropped along with my stomach. Beata's soft voice echoed from behind me. Against my will, my body turned, ready to see the final moments of my love's life.
Instead, I found her sitting atop a wagon pulled by an old mare. Beata's face was streaked with dirt and tears and there were leaves sticking out of her hair. But she didn't seem to have a scratch on her.
"B-Bea?" I whispered, walking toward her. "Are you…"
"Oh, Kat," she said, jumping off the wagon and rushing toward me.
I fell to my knees as we connected, pressing my face into her neck and sobbing in relief. It was selfish, but I thanked the Mother that I had been spared in this massacre.
"How?" I whispered. "Oh, Beata…"
"Celia," she said, looking over my shoulder to where the forest pirate had her last stand. She was beautiful, even in death, her black hair fanned around her head. Four arrows had felled her, including one to the heart. In her hand was a bejeweled knife.
"She came back," I whispered.
"She wasn't far," Jax said, walking past me to her. He knelt beside her and gently tugged the arrows from her flesh, throwing them away. Wiping tears from his cheeks, he bowed his head in prayer as he took her hand.
"I don't understand," I said, turning back to Beata.
"She heard the troops coming up from the south…" Beata wiped her eyes. "She told the camp to clear out, but…but they wouldn't. They vowed to stay and protect it."
"Oh, my love." I wiped her tears. "Tell me you didn't stay."
"I did, at first," she said. "But when the soldiers arrived and…" She swallowed. "Celia told me I had to go. Take the babies and go, is what she said." She sniffed hard. "I didn't want to but I could see it in her eyes. I could see…this in her eyes."
"The babies?" Jax croaked behind me.
Beata nodded and pointed to the wagon she'd come in on. "It's all right, children. You can come out."
A child's head appeared, wide-eyed and terrified. Followed by another. Then another. Six children in all. And…
"Elisha," Jax cried. He ran to the wagon to pull the girl from it, crushing her small frame to his body. The girl seemed surprised at first, but eventually closed her eyes and leaned into him. "Thank the Mother you're all right."
She made a sound, looking at the devastation around her.
"She didn't want to go," Beata said, nodding to the young girl. "But Nicolasa told her to."
"I don't know why," Elisha whispered, tears leaking down her face. "I shoulda died here."
"Holy Mother."
Luard had his hand over his mouth, looking green, and still others behind him filtered into the camp. Some couldn't take the sight, turning and running from the devastation. Others merely fell to their knees in front of the thieves and soldiers they'd called friends. I held Beata closer.
"All of you, on your feet."
Brynna was back, too. Although her cheeks were stained with tears and dirt, she seemed more in control of herself. Her fury, it seemed, had focused her. Or perhaps she'd realized that, as queen, she didn't have the luxury of anger right now.
"We will not let this defeat us," she said, walking to the center of camp. "We will bury and mourn the dead this week." Her gaze landed on Celia and widened with shock. "But we can't linger here." She turned to Joella behind her. "Order a camp to be set up in Kulka, north of here. Once we have that, I want volunteers to help with burials." She narrowed her eyes. "Make sure Ignacio's front and center to all of it."
Joella nodded and began barking orders to those behind her. Some in the camp got up, but others remained on their knees. Those that did, Brynna helped up and led them from the carnage.
"We should go, too," Luard said, holding the hands of two of the littles. "It's not right for them to see this."
With difficulty, I nodded and took two small hands myself. Together with Beata, we left the devastation behind and continued into the dark forest.
Chapter 55
We began the burials immediately, starting with the twenty brave soldiers who had stayed behind and laid down their lives and ending with the children who'd been the last line of defense. Between Joella's soldiers from Skorsa and Beswick's former charges, we managed it in half a day. Those of Beswick's people who'd been reticent to join us seemed to have a change of heart at the sight of little bodies littering the forest floor. Some of them sobbed as they helped carry the smallest bodies to their final resting place—even the ones who'd been reticent earlier in the day. Even Ignacio helped, ducking his head and refusing to look anyone in the eye.
I had no more tears. All I had was rage. But my people needed a leader, so I swallowed my fury and got to work.
Joella oversaw the construction of temporary tents, helped build bonfires, and relocated the stores of food. Ten soldiers from Skorsa stepped up to cook for the camp, and even more offered to serve. As I looked out amongst those seated on the grassy plains, it was hard to tell a difference in my forces.
Once the soldiers were settled with rotations and sleeping arrangements, I finally allowed myself to return to the graveyard. The moon was high overhead, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept. But even half-delirious, I wanted to pay my final respects.
I passed through the silent forest, along the road where we'd accosted Luard and his carriage. I paused briefly at the fork—one path leading into the camp, the other continuing to Forcadel. I'd been asked several times what I wanted to do with the camp, but I had no response yet. Burning it seemed like a fitting end, but…I'd said so many goodbyes lately, I couldn't stand another one.
As I left the forest, I crested a small hill and came upon the newly dug graves. Under the full moon, they were well-lit. Seventy plots, each of them facing north-south, in the Forcadelian military tradition. Someday, I would return and place the crest of the Mother and of Forcadel on each of them, honoring their service to my kingdom.
But they hadn't stayed because they believed in the cause. They'd stayed because this was their home. And they'd protected it at all costs.
Below, a figure stood in front of a grave. I hadn't seen Jax in a few hours; he hadn't been through the food line. I'd wanted to grieve in private, but his pain was palpable. He, like me, had lived at the camp, had known the kids there. And today, he'd buried his family.
I came up beside him, saying nothing. Jax held his hands b
ehind him in reverent silence. I didn't have to guess which three graves lay before us.
Celia, Locke, Nicolasa.
"I can't believe she came back," I said.
"I can," Jax said. "This was her home. We were her family."
A family she'd held hostage. I'd never quite understood Celia. Not when I'd first arrived at her camp at thirteen. And not at fifteen, when she'd said she wanted me to take over for her. Certainly not now.
"Take the babies and go."
Perhaps I didn't need to understand her. For now, I would just be grateful to her for getting Beata and the others to safety.
Locke had been laid to the right of her, his knife resting atop the overturned dirt. He'd been one of the handful of Celia's best who'd stayed—all because I'd shown him kindness. He'd thrown himself into training my soldiers, teaching them everything he knew about being a good thief. That training had been worth its weight in gold in Neveri, and in Galdon.
And on the other side, with a sprig of lavender, was Nicolasa. She was innocent—had never raised her hand in battle or anger. And the way she'd been killed… I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
"Think she knew this was coming?" Jax asked, his voice low and gravelly.
"I think she had an inkling," I replied. "But as with most things, feelings aren't… Well…"
A storm is coming from the south. Twenty soldiers. Surely, she would've told me if she knew they'd need more.
"Perhaps this is just as the Mother wanted it," Jax said, wiping his nose with a quick movement. "For what reason, I have no damn idea."
"I guess you're free now, hm?" I said softly. "You don't have to work for me or Celia anymore."
"I bought my freedom from Celia five years ago," he said.
I turned to him, surprised. "Then why did you stay?"
"Because I believed you could win," he said. "And maybe I wanted to do something right for a change."
"And now?"
"That desert-dwelling bitch destroyed my home and killed my family," he said, balling his fists. "She's going to pay for that. As is that son of a bitch Beswick."
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