“Even if they aren’t fighting for a while?” Richard said.
Willow nodded. “Especially then.”
Chapter Seventeen
She returned to her room for her coat and gloves. Time to visit with Rafferty, then dinner, then the camps. “Felix!” she shouted, hearing Ernest’s claws ticking rapidly down the hall. “We’re going to the army camps after dinner,” she told him when he appeared. “And yes, Ernest can come.”
“That sounds fun! May I take him for a walk in the gardens now?”
“So long as your bodyguards go with you—and put on a warmer shirt!” He was already gone. Willow sighed and pulled a knit cap over her ears. Days like this, she couldn’t wait for the time when bodyguards weren’t a part of their lives.
She ran Rafferty to ground in the warm, smelly stables, full of Lord Quinn’s prized horses. The long, low buildings looked much newer than the manor, not that Willow knew enough about stable architecture to be sure how recently they’d been built. The packed earth of the floors was swept clean of straw and manure, and one of the stable hands was leading a beautiful white mare out to be bridled. It made Willow wish as she hadn’t before that she knew how to ride.
Rafferty was talking to the stable master, but cut off the conversation mid-sentence when he saw her. “Willow,” he said. “This is the last place I’d expect to see you.”
“I was looking for you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, I just…it’s been a while.”
Rafferty gave her a wry smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he told the stable master. He clapped Willow solidly on the shoulder and steered her out of the stable into the cold air, where the scent of brine warred with the scent of horses. “It has been a while.”
“I didn’t know you knew anything about horses.”
“I was a trainer of horses, once upon a time, before the unfortunate incident that led to me joining you on your travels. Paul there is interested in making use of my skills, once this is all over.”
“So you’d move here? Does Selina mind that?”
“Not at all. She’s considering taking a position with the city guard.”
“I’m sorry that can’t happen immediately. We still have a long way to go.”
Rafferty gave her a long, assessing look. “And you’re working up to asking me if I’m still committed.”
“I—no. Yes, a little. I’ve had reports that a few of your insurgents have left, and…it’s not exactly desertion, except that it is.”
“You’re not going to pursue them as traitors, are you?”
“No,” Willow rushed to reassure him, “no, I’m not. But I want to keep it from happening again. We depend on those wand wielders, Giles. I can’t have them abandoning Felix.”
“They’re committed to his cause, Willow. They’re not traitors.”
“No, but they’re also not fighters, most of them, and some of them have been away from their homes for years. I understand them wanting to return, I really do, but I can’t let it keep happening. What should I do?”
“You’re asking for my advice?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Your advice is valuable.”
Rafferty grinned and prodded her shoulder. “Bring the boy around,” he said. “Let them talk to him. He’s charming and has a way of stealing your heart. I think, if they make a personal connection to him, they’ll be more likely to stick around.”
It was what she’d intended in having him visit the military camps. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that the insurgents might need the same boost to morale? “I’ll do it,” she said. “Now, if you think that will be best.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Rafferty said, “so I have time to gather everyone. And…if you know when we’ll be marching out, we’d like to hear that, too.”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll let you know when I do.”
“So you’re still in command.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rafferty looked off into the distance. “I mean,” he said, “you’ve made Lord Quinn Regent.”
The neutral sound of his voice was as good as a rebuke, and Willow bit back a hasty reply. “You disapprove?”
“It’s not my place to approve your decisions.”
“As if that’s ever stopped you criticizing me before. This was the only way, Giles.”
“We swore oath to Felix, Willow, not some nobleman who might be as bad as an Ascendant.”
“You don’t think that.”
“All right, maybe not as bad, but it’s not as if he cares anything for us. We’re just the peasants who happen to hold powerful weapons. If we didn’t have those, he’d completely disregard us.”
“Do you think he’s a bad choice as Regent?”
Rafferty was silent for a long moment in which their feet crunching the gravel was the only sound. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t trust him, but then I don’t trust any noble. What if he decides not to give up the regency at the end of Felix’s minority? He’ll have had almost seven years to increase his power—he might even control the army. You won’t be in a position to stop him.”
“I don’t intend to let him build power freely. I’ll still have a position of authority. And I’m not going to let anything happen to Felix.” She briefly considered telling Rafferty the truth about Felix’s future. If Lord Quinn ended up wearing the Crown, Rafferty might see it as a betrayal, and she owed it to him to be honest. But the more people who knew about her secret plan, the more who might accidentally—or intentionally—give it away. She’d tell him later, when it was too late for him to reveal the truth to anyone else.
“I intend to keep a close eye on Alric Quinn,” she said instead. “Does that satisfy you?”
“I’d be more satisfied with a promise that if someone better comes along, you’ll remove Lord Quinn from his position.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. We need the Waxwold troops.”
“We can make do without them.” Rafferty laughed, a booming, merry sound. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to be thinking about the good of our country, not the short-term needs of the army.”
Willow added her laugh to his. “It’s true, we’re both more patriotic than I’d thought,” she said. “Though I guess you always directed your rebel activities toward helping your fellow Tremontanans.”
“And now that we have the means to fight Ascendants directly, my friends and I can be even more effective.”
The memory of dead Lady Godfrey flashed across Willow’s mind. Was there any way to call him on it? Or warn him that killing prisoners, even Ascendant prisoners, went beyond effective into evil? There was no point. He’d deny having murdered those Ascendants, would accuse her of weakness toward their enemies, and they’d part with bad blood between them. She needed Rafferty too much to let that happen. Instead, she said, “So, you’ll talk to them about not deserting?”
“And you’ll bring his Majesty to meet with them. I think that will make them happy.”
They’d wandered while they were speaking, and Willow found their meanderings had brought them to the great front door and the two blue and scarlet sentries. “Is there anything—” she began.
The door opened, and a message runner in colors whose house Willow didn’t know came trotting out, pushing between them, then dashed down the drive toward the gates. “Is there anything I can do for you? For the insurgents, I mean?”
“Ask them, once you see them,” Rafferty said, “though as far as I know, the only thing they really want is to win this war.” He saluted Willow with a breezy version of the Tremontanan military salute and strolled away after the message runner. Willow watched him until he reached the gate, then went inside. She needed to find Kerish and let him know what they were doing that afternoon.
When she reached her bedroom, she discovered someone had left a scroll case on the table. It was sealed with a sign and shield too distorted to be recognizable. She broke the
seal and tipped the parchment inside into her hand. It occurred to her that the message might be intended not for her, but for Kerish, and she hesitated before unrolling the parchment. She’d look at the address at the top, and give it to Kerish if that was who it was meant for.
But no, her name and titles were at the top—all her titles, including chief political adviser to Felix. She unrolled it further. From Anastasia Harcourt, Countess of Cullinan—
Willow let the bottom of the parchment go, and it snapped back into its roll. None of her other letters had ever been answered. Had the Countess finally tired of Willow’s importunities, or had she changed her mind? You can’t know unless you read it, idiot. She unrolled it again and started from the beginning. The handwriting was clear and legible, the hand of a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
Lady North, three days ago Ascendants razed a town in County Cullinan for its supposed disloyalty to Terence Valant. That was a good sign, not referring to him as King. When I appealed to him, he refused to punish those Ascendants, saying they were entitled to enact justice on those who would not support him as King. That town’s supposed disloyalty was a matter of two men, very drunk, making mock of the pretender (pretender!) King. Foolishness, rudeness, but not deserving of utter destruction.
I have supported Lord Valant because I believed him to be a better King than Alric Quinn would be. I can no longer continue to do so. I pledge fealty to the true King, Felix Valant, and swear to support him against the pretender.
County Cullinan is rife with Ascendants, and I fear I cannot immediately give the King the military support he needs. However, if the rumors I hear are true, and you have a way of destroying Ascendants, I will do whatever you instruct to change that. Take care how you respond to this message, as the Ascendants are watching me closely. I have not formally broken with Lord Valant, and will not until I can be assured the Ascendants are no longer in a position to destroy my people, but I hope you will assure his Majesty of where my true loyalties lie. I await your response with great anticipation.
The signature was, by contrast with the handwriting, a great swooping illegible swirl. It was enough for Willow. She read the letter again, then lowered it to her lap. Now, she thought, Terence is ours.
***
Willow wasn’t prepared for the great sprawling mess that was the insurgent camp. Accustomed to the tidy regularity of the Eskandelic military, she couldn’t help seeing the varied tents settled haphazardly across the fields north of Kingsport as sloppy and undisciplined. But the insurgents were cheerful and eager to see Felix, and Willow had to admit their performance on the battlefield was as skilled as anyone could expect.
“They seem ready to move out,” she said to Rafferty as she watched the insurgents crowd around Felix. The boy was running Ernest through his repertoire of tricks, much to everyone’s delight.
“They like the idea of seeing action,” Rafferty said. “We’ve had enough successes they feel confident in our chances.”
“Not overconfident, I hope.”
Rafferty shrugged. “I suppose that depends on who and what we face. So long as we keep taking the Ascendants by surprise…of course, we can’t guarantee that.”
“No, but our spies can certainly make it likely.”
“Speaking of spies, did you send word back to the Countess of Cullinan?”
“Yes, and I pray the messenger gets through safely. We can’t move in complete secrecy, so we have to assume Terence knows where we are, but with luck, he won’t know we’ve made common cause with Lady Harcourt.”
“I didn’t think you liked depending on luck.”
“I don’t. But sometimes it’s all you have.”
Rafferty nodded. “I think Felix is running out of tricks. Time for you to address them.”
Willow took a few steps to stand beside Felix. “His Majesty thanks you for your service to the Crown,” she said, pitching her voice to reach the back of the crowd. “You all know we couldn’t defeat the Ascendants without you. I promise you’ll be rewarded when King Felix regains the Crown.” Guilt touched her heart, but only for a moment. She’d have to make sure that promise was kept before disappearing with Felix, since it was unlikely Lord Quinn would think the insurgents worthy of being rewarded, no matter what they did.
“What kind of reward?” yelled someone from the middle of the crowd.
“Amnesty, for a start,” Willow said. She’d hashed this out with Kerish the previous night, unwilling to let, say, murderers go unpunished simply for doing what they’d have done anyway, given wands of their own. In the end, they’d agreed it wasn’t worth the effort of investigating the seriousness of each individual’s crimes, even if that meant justice wasn’t strictly served. “Amnesty, and reparations where that’s possible.”
“You mean money?” someone else said.
“I can’t promise specifics until we know what’s possible, which means actually possessing the Crown. But the King wants you to have something that will compensate you for your losses, at least to some extent. He can’t give you back the years you were separated from your families, or the time you would have spent on your professions. He can only hope to ease your burdens—something any good ruler wants for his people.”
To her surprise, a cheer rang out. Willow looked at Felix, who was petting Ernest and smiling at the dog. She nudged him, and he startled, then waved cheerfully. She waited until the cheering had mostly died away, then continued, “I know it’s hard, being separated from your families a while longer. The army marches in three days, and that’s another hardship, with the weather growing colder. King Felix knows how much he asks of you. But remember that you’re not only fighting for the Crown, you’re fighting to make your country what it ought to be. To restore your rights as citizens of Tremontane and to protect this country from people who see it, and you, as their personal property.”
She surveyed the crowd. All eyes were intent on her. “In less than three weeks, we could be at the gates of Aurilien. But that can only happen with the perseverance of all of us—soldiers, insurgents, everyone—in facing down the pretender’s forces. Every one of you matters. If you fall, a little bit of all of us falls with you. And if you stand strong…if we fight together, Terence doesn’t stand a chance.”
This time, the cheering was louder and went on for longer. Willow saluted the insurgents, wishing she knew a graceful way to exit. She could barely remember what she’d said and hoped the cheering meant it had been effective. Guilt struck her again, this time a feeling that she’d just encouraged these people to go to their deaths behind her. There was no way all of them would survive to receive their promised rewards. But she’d sworn to see this through, and if that meant pushing them into battle, she’d just have to live with herself afterward.
“Thank you for your welcome,” she said when the noise abated. “Is there anything we can do for you? Is everyone equipped for the journey?”
A tall, bony woman with a nose red-tipped from the cold stepped forward. She’d been one of those most interested in Ernest and his tricks. “We don’t all have the warmest coats,” she said. “And some of us don’t have the right shoes.”
“We’ll have to fix that.” Willow extended her hand to the woman to shake. “What’s your name?”
“Marnie Thatcher.”
“Mistress Thatcher—”
“Miss.”
“Miss Thatcher, excuse me. I’m putting you in charge of finding out who needs what gear. Bring your list to me and I’ll make sure it’s filled before we leave. But there’s not much time, so best to be quick about it.”
Thatcher smiled and reached inside her coat. “I was hopin’ you’d say that,” she said, holding out a folded sheet of paper. “Here it is.”
Willow laughed. “You missed your calling as quartermaster. Keep that. I want you to come with me and I’ll provide you with the money to equip your troops.”
Rafferty accompanied them back to the manor. “Well sp
oken,” he said.
“Thanks. I hope it was effective.”
“It was. They’ll follow you to the gates of Aurilien and beyond.”
“You mean they’ll follow Felix.”
Rafferty gave her a sidelong look. “Of course.”
“Giles, everything I do is in Felix’s name.”
“I know. But everything you do is in your own words. They’ll follow Felix because you convinced them. Not such a big surprise if some of them follow you instead.”
Willow reddened. “I don’t know what to do about that.” She indicated Felix, who was walking ahead of them, talking to Thatcher, apparently about Ernest. “He’s just a boy. He can’t speak for himself the way I can.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it means nothing. Forget I said anything.”
They fell into silence, but Willow couldn’t stop thinking about Rafferty’s words. Ultimately, it didn’t matter whether the insurgents, or the troops, followed Felix or were swayed by her dubious rhetorical skills. She and Felix would both be gone in a few months. But it made her uncomfortable that any of them might look to her for leadership. She was a thief, not a noble, no matter what anyone else thought, and she looked forward to the day when she no longer had to convince people to do as she said. Taking care of her little family was more than enough for her.
Chapter Eighteen
Willow cupped her gloved hands in front of her face and huffed into them, warming her nose. Her breath smelled of the meat they’d had for supper: fresh venison, courtesy of the Silverfield archers. They were eating remarkably well for an army on the move, though she was getting tired of drop biscuits and beer.
She scooted her camp stool closer to the fire. It lit the white tents surrounding it, turning them tawny in its orange light and making the lantern unnecessary. Across the way, one of the tent flaps shifted, revealing Kerish. “He seemed unusually tired tonight,” he said.
“He did walk some of the way. I didn’t like to tell him ‘no’ when he was so restless. And this cold is enough to sap anyone’s strength.”
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