We had to rely on surprise, training, and magic.
Life at the hunting lodge took on a frantic energy as we poured every waking hour into preparing for a battle that none of us were ready for. With only twenty days left, every spare minute seemed a waste.
Of those who had joined my cause from along the coast, only forty-seven were fit enough and of the right age to participate in the fight. Lord Gabrin had a standoff with his twin daughters, both aged thirteen, when they insisted that they would fight alongside their queen. We could hear their raised voices throughout the lodge.
At last he caved, partly because he knew one Flamespinner would help our cause more than ten ordinary soldiers.
The eight guards from Baylore would prove invaluable if I decided I could trust them. I asked Quendon to keep a close eye on them, and until I was convinced of their loyalty, they camped in the forest beyond the manor.
Leoth was allocated a small room in the attic with a sloping ceiling, where he was kept under constant guard. Several times I begged him to help train our fighters—he was more skilled with a sword than any of my other recruits—but he did not want the questions or the stares.
I brought him his meals each day, and lingered as long as I dared, unable to resist the pull of his presence. His arrival had thrown my thoughts into turmoil; I spent many hours trying to untangle the complex knot of affection and bitterness he still roused in me. He knew he was my greatest weakness. And he had used that against me before now. His injuries were real, but could he have come by them some other way? Even now, I did not trust him. He was hiding something, and it rankled.
When we spoke, we danced around the serious topics, avoiding most discussion of Baylore.
“Have you been to Larkhaven before?” I asked one day after setting a bowl of stew on Leoth’s table.
“Once, when I was young. My mother was about to travel to the Kinship Thrones to visit a cousin, and my father and I traveled with her to the coast. I remember a seal nearly killing me when I got too close, but that’s all.”
We grinned at each other before looking hurriedly away. I could feel the way he held back, afraid of something, perhaps, or anticipating future pain he would bring me. But his smile tugged at me, erasing the spans that had passed since our time together. I yearned for him even as I feared the grip he still held over me.
Another time I asked, “How did you get past the soldiers at the start of the forest road?”
Leoth grimaced. “We tried to pass ourselves off as messengers for the king, but they recognized me. They must have received word of my escape—they were waiting for us. Thankfully we managed to fight them off, but we lost two of our guards in the process.”
“How did Cal fare? He hasn’t had much practice with the sword, has he?”
“No. He tried, but—he’s never killed anyone before.”
“And you have?”
Leoth said nothing.
Apprehension rose in my stomach, but I pushed it back. I had no right to judge Leoth when my own hands were stained with more than one man’s blood.
“So you traveled through the forest unhindered?” I asked, my voice falsely light.
“Yes. Don’t most people?”
I shrugged. “We ran into a bit of trouble, but only when we stepped off the road.”
Leoth did not press me for more details, so I left it at that.
Another day, I dared to ask, “So, what does Lady Eshaline think about your disappearance?” I kept my voice light and unconcerned.
Leoth set aside his plate. “Oh. She’s—that was nothing.”
“Like our time together was nothing?” I said airily. I should not be dragging this up, but the unanswered questions gnawed at me.
“No. That’s not—” Leoth rubbed his forehead. “Lady Eshaline was a prop. I felt nothing for her.”
“Wasn’t it the same with me? I can hardly believe you cared for me, given what you did.”
“Let’s not go down this path, Kalleah. I’m wrong for you in so many ways. It’s hard enough as it is.”
The way he spoke made my heart beat faster. Did he still care for me, despite his betrayal? And if he did, how had reconciled his feelings with what he had done? I loved the deep, smooth tone of his voice, the vulnerability when he said he was wrong for me. I could not resist digging deeper.
“What’s hard enough as it is?” I asked. “Being in my presence? Telling lies to my face? Dealing with the pain of looking ugly for the first time in your life?” In truth, he was still handsome beneath the scarring and bruises, which were beginning to fade—but the way he cringed was satisfying.
“Why are you even here?” he asked. “Why not let someone else deliver my meals?”
“You know why I’m here.” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. It was as good as a confession that I still craved his company. “Anyway,” I added hurriedly, “I’d rather have you out there, helping train my soldiers. I keep hoping I’ll be able to persuade you to show your face again.”
“That’s not likely, after you’ve just reminded me how ugly it is.”
“Well, it seems a waste of rations feeding a perfectly capable man who refuses to fight.”
Leoth’s expression suddenly closed on me. I knew I had gone too far. I grabbed the tray and hastened from his attic room, heart still beating too fast.
Outside, I leaned against the wall to collect my thoughts before I ventured downstairs. What had that been? It felt like we were both prodding and taunting one another, each trying to get the other to admit what we would not. Or perhaps I was seeing only what I wanted to see. Half of our conversation had been in the subtext, and I might have interpreted Leoth’s words the wrong way.
Still. It seemed I was not alone in fending off lingering affection.
* * *
Outside the confines of Leoth’s attic, my recruits rose each morning at dawn for three hours of training in the yard. First we divided into groups supervised by Quendon, Mellicante, and each of the newly arrived palace guards, practicing with the sword and bow. Then we ran through the forest and climbed trees and lifted stones in an endless round of strength training, until most of us were near collapse. I put myself through the same regimen as everyone—I could not afford weakness. And here, for the first time in my life, I began to understand how useful my power could be. While my friends began to stagger from exhaustion, I felt more alert than ever, buoyed by the energy of dozens of bodies around me. In close quarters—on a battlefield, for instance—it could be that I never tired.
The rest of our morning was spent poring over maps of Larkhaven while Lord Gabrin and his family pointed out every building that could be used as a base, every approach into the city that would not be seen from the main road, and each house belonging to a family with magic blood, making them likely to lend us their support. His family was very well connected, even more so than the governor had been.
At lunch, Magreeda served up a huge pot of stew that usually contained potatoes and some unidentifiable game from the woods. A farmer across the road had joined our cause as well, and she donated a dozen sheep for our meals. We ate ravenously; the stew was never enough.
Afternoon was then spent practicing battle formations, carving rough shields from a felled tree, and learning the best way to use the shields in a fight.
We were not free until just before dinner, when we dispersed to bathe as best we could in buckets drawn from the stream threading through the forest. Whenever this time came, I dragged my aching feet through the woods to the ocean cliffs, where I joined the Rider and his dolphin.
“Any sign of sails?” I asked each time.
“Not today, Your Majesty.”
After dinner, while most of my fighters rested and moaned about their bruises, I gathered the magicians in Lord Gabrin’s study to discuss strategies for using magic to our advantage. There were eleven of us now. Cal and one of Lord Gabrin’s twin daughters were Flamespinners, of course, but we also had two Minstrels, a
Cloudmage, a Dark Potioneer who was far too young to fight, a Metalsmith, and even a Weaver.
Our first decision had been to use the Rider and his dolphin to keep watch for Whitish ships. Together they would be able to warn us of attack long before anyone on shore could.
Cal thought he could use his power to roast the Whitish soldiers one by one; I worried he would burn down the city along the way, but he promised to be careful. After dinner, he took Lord Gabrin’s daughter into the now-vacant yard and began teaching her to use her talent in a more controlled way. She was unpredictable, prone to turning small flames into uncontrollable fireballs, and unless she could channel her power effectively, she would be more of a liability than a help.
The Minstrels were trickier. Their power lay in drawing named listeners into a story, to the extent that the listeners felt they lived within the story world; Kamarri and I discussed whether this would be useful for inspiring the Itrean resistance or distracting the Whitish soldiers, but we could not agree. Kamarri gave them several stories to practice—one that illustrated the chaos that would descend if Larkhaven fell; one that sought to inspire resistance fighters with a scene of triumphant battle; and one meant to terrify any Whitish soldiers who came under its spell. I was not sure any of it would help, but it was good to distract Kamarri with tasks that kept her from griping at me and provoking my followers. As far as I knew, she had not spoken to Viko since his return.
The Cloudmage was a no-nonsense mother who had taken her children south when she found her husband brutally butchered at the docks one morning; she had enough power to redirect clouds, and offered to summon up any nearby rainclouds if that would help distract the Whitish.
The Metalsmith thought he could enhance weapons, but had not received enough training to work his properly; on the other hand, the Weaver began working at once to imbue the clothing of my supporters with magic powers. He strengthened coats until they could serve as armor, turned lengths of fabric into flying cloaks that would enable us to jump from rooftops and surprise the enemy, and created boots that would boost the wearer’s pain resistance, allowing us to escape even if we were badly injured.
It was not much, but I hoped it would be enough to give us an edge.
Ten days after Leoth’s arrival, I stood gazing out to sea, the Rider nearby, when I heard footsteps in the grass behind me.
It was Leoth. He wore a hood drawn low over his face, but he tugged it off when he drew near.
“You’re avoiding me.” He stopped beside me, hands in his pockets, and the Rider paced away from us.
He was right. I hadn’t been up to the attic since I had goaded him about coming out to help train my soldiers.
“I’ve been busy,” I said. “As you would be, if you were willing to help us. How did you escape your guards?”
He jerked his head back the way he had come, and indeed, the two soldiers currently assigned to watch over him were there, lurking just within the trees.
I studied Leoth—his bruises were fading, though they had gone a sickly yellow color that looked worse than ever. The gash down his cheek had finally scabbed over, though the skin around it still puckered.
Leoth turned abruptly away, eyes on the sinking sun. He ran a hand through his hair so it fell across his face, shielding the worst of his injuries from view.
“Is it just your face they went for, or—”
“I don’t need your pity,” Leoth snapped.
“Then why are you here?”
He sighed, and his shoulders rounded. “I’ve been thinking a lot, since…” He paused. “I wanted to apologize. And explain. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you should know—I told the truth when I said I loved you.”
His words came back to me then, the night that hurt so much I had tried to excise it from my memories. Whatever happens, remember this night. This is the truth. I love you, and everything else is a lie.
He must have known, even then, that he would betray me.
I swallowed, my throat tight.
“It wasn’t true at first,” he said quietly. “I started pursuing you because the Truthbringers gave me the task of learning more about you, and charming women was one of the things I did best.” His eyes flicked to mine, his smile grim. “But when we both got poisoned, I started falling for you. I’d never cared for a woman before—I enjoyed the chase, the flirting, but it was all empty words. Until you.”
I stared at him, searching his eyes for any trace of guile. I could see only the truth reflected back at me.
These were the words I had craved. Why did they hurt so much?
Because he’s still hiding things, a small part of me said. He’s still lying.
“I know you don’t trust me, and we can’t be together, because of—” He tore his eyes away from mine and cleared his throat. “Kalleah, I still care for you. More than you know. I want to serve you in whatever way I can.”
This time when I met his gaze, he did not turn away. His eyes were dark and earnest.
Why did he keep insisting we could never be together? Was it because of my power? If it was, he should have the courage to say it outright.
Or had he planned some deeper betrayal?
“Leoth—” Even saying his name tore at me. “What I want is of no consequence right now. I need your help training my recruits. Stand before them, looking as you do, and let them judge you as I have been judged all my life.”
Leoth’s jaw tightened.
“You have more fighting experience than anyone here. We need you.”
After a pause, Leoth nodded stiffly. “I’ll do it.”
21
Leoth’s Secret
T hough he caused a minor uproar when he appeared in the lodge that night, Leoth endured the stares and whispering without complaint.
The very next morning, he strode out onto the lawn to lead every one of my fifty-three fighters in a series of drills. I joined them, curious to see how he would fare. Besides, I needed the practice.
“People of Itrea!” Leoth called out. “You have done so well. Less than two spans ago, most of you had never touched a sword. Now you are becoming soldiers fit for the queen’s army. But we must do better than that. We are not facing an untrained rabble. We intend to go to war against Whitland, the most powerful nation in the world. What you have learned thus far is a foundation. It will serve you well enough, but it won’t grant you victory against the Whitish. That’s what I am here to teach you.”
With his proud posture, his commanding bearing, Leoth created the illusion that his injuries had faded away. He was as regal as I had ever seen him.
“The sixteen basic sword strokes and parries are enough to start you out. But you need more than that. You need to learn how to twist the fight to your advantage, and you need to practice working as one unit. You can be sure the Whitish soldiers have spent a lifetime training at this.”
He bent to collect his sword, which was wrapped in strips of linen to dull the blade. “Quendon. Will you help me demonstrate?”
Leoth proffered a second sword with a wrapped blade, and Quendon took the hilt, falling into a defensive stance opposite Leoth.
“Watch,” Leoth said. “This is your first common stroke, and see how Quendon parries it?” He demonstrated the blow, moving slowly, and Quendon caught his blade with equal languor. “Every Whitish soldier knows this basic parry, and will move swiftly to a second attack. But you can turn the parry to your advantage. See?” Sword still locked with Quendon’s, he stepped backward. Then he tilted his blade forward and thrust it forward at Quendon’s neck.
“There. Do you see the difference? If I were a highly-trained Whitish soldier and Quendon a new recruit, I could take every common blow and turn it against him.
“This is what you need to learn. It will be tedious and difficult, but every variation you practice will give you an advantage. More than that, learning different ways to respond to each blow will allow you to react faster. The eventual goal is to move by reflex, not by thoug
ht.”
Leoth asked us to divide into pairs to practice, while he and the other palace guards made the rounds correcting our work. Mellicante paired with Baridya, Cal with Lord Gabrin’s Flamespinner daughter, Nyla; I retreated to the edge of the field, trying to pretend it had been my intention to observe, not that I had been neglected.
Just inside the pines, I caught sight of a shadow moving. Had Whitish spies found us? Hand on the hilt of my sword, I stepped beneath the trees.
There—the figure moved again.
But it was no spy. It was Viko, watching my army with hunger in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
He jumped. “Your Majesty?”
“Why are you lurking in the shadows? You should join in the lessons.”
“A few of your people made it pretty obvious they don’t want me there.”
“They don’t get to decide that. I’m their queen, so I make the rules around here. And I want you in my army.”
Viko sighed and kicked a root. “Why haven’t you given up on me yet? I’ve tried to fix things before. It never works. I’m only going to disappoint you.”
“This isn’t the same. Whether you fight with us or not, your life won’t go back to how it was before. Larkhaven is about to become a battleground. Your wretched tavern may not exist a year from now. Do you want to join us, or do you want to wait for the Whitish army to arrive and kick you about as they please? That’s your choice.” I fixed Viko with a stern look. “I want you to come with us, because I can see that you are still a decent man with an entire life ahead of you, but I won’t force you to follow us. You must stay with us until we reclaim Larkhaven, but after that, you can travel with us to Baylore or remain here. Just consider your options carefully. You may not have the chance to change your mind.”
Viko walked closer to the forest edge, gazing out at my army. “What happened to me—it’s not Mellicante’s fault. I know she thinks it is. Sure, we were both stupid, but she never tried to drag me into all of that. My parents were putting too much pressure on me, and I was feeling reckless. I might’ve ended up there even without her.”
Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3) Page 19