“I’ll be right back,” he said saying he was taking him to the physician’s barracks to bunk, and to check on the soldier Eben had slashed.
“Be sure to post a guard on the urchin,” Sven reminded him as he walked out.
Rafe’s footsteps faded, and the room was heavy with silence, then a few mumbled words erupted among the officers. Unimportant words. Nothing like the ones that pounded in my head.
The Komizar rules Venda.
It was the truth I had known all along.
The truth Rafe had tried to deny.
The truth even the Komizar knew as he lay bleeding: It’s not over.
Even Dihara whispered to me, jei zinterr. Be brave.
She knew it was only beginning.
He wants us all dead.
The vision I’d had of Civica when I was back in the Sanctum seeped into the air before me again, like fingers of curling smoke that had been waiting just outside my field of vision. The citadelle was destroyed, the ruins only broken fangs on the horizon, and piles upon piles of bodies lined the roads like stacked stones in a wall. The cries of a shackled few, to be taken back to Venda as prisoners, hung in the smoky air.
Their moans wove through other voices, Rafe’s, the Komizar’s, the priest’s, Venda’s, and Dihara’s too.
We’ll send word. I promise.
It’s my turn now to sit on a golden throne in Morrighan.
The bridge is destroyed. They can’t even get across.
The Dragon knows only hunger.
Trust your gifts, Arabella, whatever they might be.
We call them our Death Steeds.
Sometimes a gift requires great sacrifice.
You’ll know what you need to do.
Don’t tarry, Miz.
Or they will all die. This last a knowing within me as certain as a sunrise. They will die.
The smoky haze before my eyes vanished, and I met the stares of everyone seated around the table.
“Your Highness?” Jeb asked cautiously, his pupils, pinpoints. Everyone else’s gaze looked much the same. What had they seen in my face?
I stood. “Colonel Bodeen, I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning, along with Kaden.” I turned to Griz, “Once you’re completely healed, you and Eben can catch up with us somewhere in Morrighan, but you can’t ride yet. I need you fit and healthy—not as an added worry.” I spoke quickly and firmly, not giving Griz or anyone else a chance to protest. “Colonel, we’ll need our horses readied and additional supplies, including weapons if you can spare them. I promise that I’ll repay—”
“What are you talking about?”
Everyone’s attention turned toward the doorway of the dining room. Rafe stood there, tall and formidable, his eyes blazing. By his strained tone, it was obvious he had heard me, but I said it again anyway.
“I was just telling Colonel Bodeen that I’m returning to Morrighan in the morning. Any doubt about the Komizar and his intentions are gone now, and I—”
“Lia, you and I will discuss this later. For now—”
“No,” I said. “We’ve already talked, Rafe, and I can’t put it off any longer. I’m leaving.”
He walked across the room and took hold of my elbow. “May I speak with you in private, please?”
“Talking is not going to change—”
“Excuse us, please,” he said to everyone as he led me out of the dining room, his grip tight on my arm. He shut the doors behind us and turned on the veranda to face me. “Just what do you think you were doing in there? You can’t go around giving my officers orders behind my back!”
I blinked, taken aback by his immediate anger. “It was hardly behind your back, Rafe. You were only gone for a few minutes.”
“It doesn’t matter how long I was gone! I return and you’re shouting orders for horses?”
I struggled to keep my voice even. “I was not shouting—as you are now.”
“If I’m shouting, it’s because we’ve gone over this already, and you don’t seem to be listening! I told you I need time.”
“And time is a luxury I don’t have. I will remind you it is my kingdom they are descending upon—not yours. I have a duty to—”
“Now?” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Now you suddenly decide that duty matters? You didn’t seem to give a devil’s hell about duty when you left me at the altar!”
I stared at him, a hive of bees swarming in my chest, and I desperately tried to swallow my growing irritation. “I’m regrouping and moving forward with new information—just as some fool told me to do.”
He walked across the wooden veranda and then back again, his boots punctuating his growing anger. He stopped in front of me.
“I didn’t run across a whole continent and risk good officers’ lives just to let you traipse back to a kingdom where you’ll be killed.”
“You’re assuming the worst,” I said between gritted teeth.
“You’re damn right I am! You think one little lesson in swordplay and you’re ready to take on a kingdom of traitorous cutthroats?”
Swordplay? I trembled with fury at his dismissal of my abilities. “I will remind you, King Jaxon, that all of your fingers are intact now thanks to me. You think you’d be giving anyone sword lessons without them? I endured weeks of the Komizar pawing me, beating me, and sticking his tongue down my throat to save your miserable life. And I will also remind you I felled four men in our escape. You are not letting me go anywhere. Where I go and what I do is still my choice to make!”
He didn’t back down, and his eyes became molten steel burning me with their heat. “No.”
I looked at him uncertainly. “What do you mean, no?”
“You can’t go.”
An incredulous puff of air escaped from my lips. “You can’t stop me.”
“You think not?” He stepped closer, his chest as imposing as a wall. His eyes glowed like a beast’s. “Have you forgotten? I am the king of Dalbreck,” he growled. “And I decide who comes and goes here.”
“You’re a damn fool is what you are, and I’m leaving!”
He turned toward the end of the veranda. “Guards!”
The sentries standing at the railing immediately stepped forward. “Escort Princess Arabella back to her quarters,” he ordered. “And post four guards to see that she stays put!”
I stood there, stunned with disbelief, trying to find my voice. “Are you saying I’ve gone from being the prisoner of one kingdom to being the prisoner of another?”
“You can twist it into whatever warped thing you choose, which I’m sure you will, but you’re going to your tent and staying there until you come to your senses!”
I looked back at the guards. They stared at me anxiously, not sure how to proceed until Rafe told them, “If she doesn’t follow willingly, you have my permission to drag her.”
I glared at him and spun, stomping down the steps with the guards hot on my heels.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
KADEN
We heard every word.
When the shouting began, Sven stood halfway up as if to leave. “Maybe we should give them some privacy—” Then he seemed to realize that the only exit led right into their argument. He sat back down. The only other option would have been to sneak out single file through the cook’s entrance, which would be even more awkward, an admission that we were hearing their raging argument.
So we sat there listening, wondering how it could get worse.
Words like devil’s hell, damn fool, and I decide raised eyebrows, but prisoner was a word that sucked in breaths. Tavish groaned, and Jeb mumbled a curse. Sven leaned forward, his face in his hands like he wished he could counsel his charge in the rules of a proper argument. I heard him mumble drag her? beneath his breath.
Griz was surprisingly silent, and I realized he was enjoying listening to the king dig his grave. Griz believed in Lia in a strange, fierce way that I was only just grasping. It didn’t matter that she planned to leave him behind. T
he king was showing his true royal colors, and Griz was savoring every word.
I tried to savor the warm kernel of satisfaction growing in my gut too, but I also knew the rage I heard in Lia’s voice came from a place of deep hurt. My satisfaction turned cold. After my promise of honesty, I had dispensed only portions of the truth to Rafe about my kiss with Lia, knowing it would enrage him, but she was the one who had shouldered the brunt of the pain it had caused. I didn’t want to hurt her any more.
It was quiet outside on the veranda, and Sven finally broke our silence. “What else could he do? It’s not safe for her to go back to Morrighan.”
“She asked me once about going home,” Jeb said. “I always assumed she meant Dalbreck.”
“Dalbreck is not her home,” I told him.
“It’s going to be,” Tavish said, shooting me a dark glare.
“Nothing to worry about.” Orrin poured himself more ale. “She’ll come to her senses.”
Tavish snorted. “Sure she will.”
“Her worry is valid,” I said. “The Komizar is going to march against Morrighan and the other kingdoms.”
“Which kingdom first?” Sven asked.
“Morrighan.”
“And you know that with certainty, probably because he told you.”
Sven’s point was clear. The Komizar wasn’t the best source for any truths, and I knew how he could hold back information, pitting one governor against another for his own purposes. The Komizar wanted Morrighan, but he wanted Dalbreck too. He wanted them all.
“Yes,” I answered. “Certain.” But now I wasn’t.
Bodeen grinned. “March with his supposed army of a hundred thousand?”
Griz cleared his throat. “Not exactly,” he said, finally speaking up. “I’m afraid the princess didn’t get the numbers quite right.”
No, she didn’t. I remembered when I returned to the Sanctum and asked the Komizar how the plans were going. Better than I hoped. His army had grown significantly in the last few months.
Sven’s eyes were sharp beads on Griz, as if he knew there was more coming.
“There you go!” Hague said waving his hand in the air. “Confirmation right out of the big barbarian’s mouth. Maybe he’s the one who should speak to the princess.”
Griz swilled back a shot of red-eye and set the glass down with a loud thud. “The numbers are actually closer to a hundred and twenty thousand. All well armed. He motioned to Sven to pass the bottle to refill his empty glass. “That’s about twice the size of your forces, isn’t it, Captain?”
Jeb sighed. “Three times.”
Hague said nothing. His mouth gaped like a fish dangling from a hook. Griz tried to restrain a smile.
Orrin and Tavish shook their heads, and Sven passed the bottle to Griz, scrutinizing him for signs of a lie.
It was the truth. That was what the Komizar was so heavily pressuring the governors for—more supplies to sustain his expanding army.
“They’re only wild barbarians! Not a trained marching army. The numbers mean nothing!” Hague finally sputtered, dismissing the matter.
Bodeen sat back in his chair. “While the size and abilities of a Vendan army remain in question,” he interjected, “the king’s concerns do not. His worry is valid too. I understand there’s a bounty for the princess’s capture, and thanks to the Komizar and his rumors, probably something much worse awaits her by now. I think I heard King Jaxon describe her as ‘the most wanted criminal in Morrighan’? That’s a perilous position to be in.”
Stalemate. That was true too, and I knew in their view it made Griz and me look callous and unconcerned for Lia’s well-being.
Bodeen quirked his head to the side, listening, and then stood, finally judging it safe to leave. “What was that last thing she growled as she went down the steps? Jabavé?”
“It’s a Vendan word for—”
Sven coughed, cutting me off. “It’s not a term of endearment,” he offered. “The king knows what it means. That’s all that matters.”
My kernel of satisfaction warmed again, in spite of myself.
It is in the sorrows.
In the fear.
In the need.
That is when the knowing gains wings.
The black wings of knowing fluttered beneath my breast.
He was gone, and he would not come back.
—The Lost Words of Morrighan
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I paced in my tent, trying to control my rage. My blood raced faster than a whipped horse. I was certain that at any moment he would come, his head bowed in shame, begging forgiveness for his appalling behavior.
My head throbbed, and I rubbed my temples as I wore a path on the carpet. Come to my senses? Did he even hear himself? Dear gods, had the entire camp heard us? The dining room veranda was far from the soldiers’ barracks, but the officers’ quarters were within earshot. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining all the ears pressed to windows. I knew Rafe was under strain and the additional news today of dissent back home only piled on more stress, but I was under pressure too. I hissed a frustrated breath between clenched teeth. Maybe in some small way I had gone behind his back, but it was only because I wanted to get my intentions out before he returned, making them clear and public and certain so he couldn’t discount them the way he had before. Maybe he could construe it as usurping his authority, especially at a time when he was trying to gain the confidence of those around him, but acting like an ass was no way to gain respect.
I decide. I was not a subject of Dalbreck. He would decide nothing.
Minutes passed and then an hour with still no sign of him. Was he sulking? Too ashamed to come and apologize? Maybe he was commiserating with his men over his ill-spoken words. Or contemplating what Eben had shared. Rafe wasn’t stupid. With the Komizar alive and moving forward with his plans, he had to know we were all at risk. Keeping me alive for now meant nothing if in the end we were all dead or imprisoned. Just because Morrighan was the Komizar’s first target didn’t mean that Dalbreck wouldn’t be next.
I grabbed a pillow from my bed and punched it, then threw it against the headboard.
Swordplay! I could still hear his sarcastic emphasis on play. Maybe that was what hurt most of all. His lack of belief in me, only valuing his kind of strength and not the kind I possessed. The kind that had helped save both of our necks. Kaden had earned a healthy knot on his shin when he had done the same. It wasn’t too late for me to give Rafe a knot too. Maybe he needed one on his head.
The sides of the tent shivered with the wind, and a low, distant rumble sounded as if the skies had been drawn into our tempest. I added wood chips to the stove. Where was he?
I threw aside the curtain of the tent entrance. Two guards stepped forward to block my path, crossing their halberds in front of me.
“Please, Your Highness, step back inside,” one of them asked. A wrinkle curled across his brow. He looked genuinely frightened. “I really don’t want to—” He was unwilling to finish his thought.
“Drag me back to my quarters as the king ordered?”
He nodded. The other guard fretted with the shaft of his halberd, refusing to meet my gaze. Surely they’d never had to guard a prisoner like me before, one who had been a guest of the king only hours before. For their sakes alone, I stepped back and snatched the curtain closed, growling as I did.
I snuffed the chandelier lights, and the room glowed dimly with the embers from the stove. I seethed that he hadn’t already come in here begging on bended knee. I flopped onto my bed taking off one boot, then another, then threw them across the room. Both smacked the tent wall, each small thud pathetically unsatisfying.
Anger stabbed in my throat like a painful bone I couldn’t swallow. I didn’t want to go to sleep this way. I brushed at my wet lashes, blinking away tears. Maybe I should have explained it to him in private. Could I have made him understand? But I thought of all our miles traveling from the Sanctum to here, all the times he had skillfully t
urned the conversation away from Morrighan. We just have to reach the outpost for now. He had done it time and time again, so smoothly I hadn’t even noticed.
Tonight he hadn’t bothered to be smooth. All I got from him was a curt, arrogant dismissal. No. No chance for discussion—
“Lia?”
I jumped up from my bed, sucking in a startled breath.
It was his voice. Just on the other side of the curtain. Low and quiet. Contrite. I knew he’d come to work this out.
I walked to the end of the bed, quickly wiping my face with my palms. I pressed my back against the wide bedpost column and took a deep cleansing breath. “Come in,” I said softly.
The curtain parted, and he stepped inside.
My stomach twisted. Only two hours had separated us, but it had felt as long as my trek across the entire Cam Lanteux. The dark crystal pools of his eyes warmed my blood in a way that made me feel lost to everything else in the world but him. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been out for a brisk ride to work off his pent-up frustrations. His face was calm now, his eyes soft, and I was sure a well-practiced apology waited on his lips.
He searched my face, his gaze tender. “I just wanted to check on you,” he said quietly. “Make sure you had everything you needed.”
“Now that I’m a prisoner.”
Hurt flashed in his expression. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re free to move about the camp.”
“As long as I don’t leave.”
He stepped closer, stopping only inches away. The heat of his body surrounded me, filled the tent, filled my head.
“I don’t want it to be this way between us,” he whispered. He reached out and touched my hand. His fingers slowly slid up my arm to my shoulder, and his thumb traced a slow, lazy circle over my collarbone. Hot embers burned in my chest. He knew I wanted him, that I wanted nothing more than to reach out and close the hurtful space between us.
Almost nothing more. “Are you here to apologize?” I asked.
His hand slipped behind my back, drawing me closer, his hips meeting mine, and his lips brushed my earlobe. “I have to do what I think is best. I can’t let you go, Lia, not in good conscience. Not when I know the danger you’d be heading into.” He loosened the laces of my dress. My breaths skipped through my chest, uneven, singeing my thoughts.
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