Gerta stopped braiding her hair. “If this is an audition to prove yourself a worthy leader, you can stop. We’re not looking to be ruled.”
“Hardly,” Beau laughed. “Despite my father’s wishes, I have never once in my life wanted to rule and that will never change. The Land belongs to those who live in it.”
“Then what’s your plan, exactly? Who will rule?”
“No one,” Beau replied. “Everyone.”
Gerta grimaced. “That sounds like pure pandemonium.”
“I mean that the different parts of the Land should choose for themselves. Even The Histories say that’s how it was before the Manor rose. We should go back to that.”
“There’s no such thing as going back, only forward.”
“Or, in your case, standing still.” Beau waited for her to reply or throw something at him, but Gerta simply gathered the rest of her hair and began plaiting it into a second braid.
Only once she’d finished did she speak again. “We’ll escort you north to the Manor. Don’t expect us to fight for you.”
“I’m not looking for a battle,” Beau replied. “That’s not how we’ll defeat Doone. And I won’t take up arms against my father. We’d never win anyway. Have you seen his elite guard? They’re the strongest in the Land, even with half of them sick with fever. But we do need a show of unity, proof that there’s another way forward. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Doone was right. There are better ways to defeat your opponents than combat.”
Gerta let out a heavy sigh. “At least he remembered something of value from his youth.”
“What?” Beau was certain he’d misheard her. “Were you his teacher?”
“How old do you think I am?” Gerta growled.
Nothing could tempt Beau to answer that.
“We were raised together, he, Fledge, Anka, and me,” Gerta continued. “I thought Fledge told you everything.”
“So did I.”
“He likes to forget the part about Doone. They were inseparable when they were young, until the rift.” Gerta sounded as if she’d just as soon forget it too.
“So will you help me then?” Beau pressed.
“Just as you won’t fight your father, I won’t fight my own people either.” Gerta rose from her chair and pulled on her mossy-green jerkin. “I’ve already sent out a delegation to convince Doone to abandon his plans, to respect our treaty and you as one of our own.”
Her certainty would have once been enough to convince Beau, but he’d since learned to question everything. “And you think your ties with him are strong enough that he’ll listen?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?”
A short while later, Gerta had her entire camp assembled around the firepit. There must have been at least fifty people—not including the twenty children—and each and every one stood ready to do their part to help get Beau back to the Manor safely. As Gerta laid out her plans, never once did she try to incite fear, condescend, or belittle. To Beau’s mind, she was the model of true leadership—a commander who appreciates each member of her company for the talents and abilities they bring to the fight. But as she finished up, Beau realized something was missing in her planning.
“What about finding Cressi and Nate?” Beau pressed. “I won’t go without them.”
“You entrusted me with a job. Let me do it,” Gerta replied as she and her second-in-command, Hugo, led the way out through the veil.
With no other choice, Beau took hold of Puzzle’s reins and followed them out. He expected to feel touched by something magical as he passed through the veil, but it felt more like a shiver or a whisper than anything mystical.
Everyday magic.
As they traveled through the forest, Beau led Puzzle rather than riding her, knowing that dangerous terrain lay ahead. And yet somehow the Bottom no longer felt quite as perilous. All those sharp edges and pitfalls took on an almost protective feel now, as if the Bottom were an ally one only needed to make peace with. Even the sight of Gerta’s scouts appearing as if out of nowhere from among the trees, brush, and rocks was no longer startling. He quickly got used to scouts emerging from behind veils to deliver news and information. Her responses were always the same, a calm nod, a quiet reply, or a thoughtful “Hmmm.”
Until the last one came in.
Beau watched as the lines that drew the corners of Gerta’s mouth downward deepened, the furrow in her brow widened. A sinking feeling told him to prepare for the worst as she stopped to address the group.
Please, don’t let it be Cressi and Nate.
“We have a change of plans,” Gerta announced. “Lula, head back and take whoever you need with you to prepare for the arrival of two wounded.”
Lula sprang to action, taking two others with her back to the settlement. Among the rest of the party there was no murmuring, no panic, just focused attention waiting for Gerta to continue.
“Hugo, take a team of eight and try to get ahead of Doone. Word is he’s riding north to the Manor with Trout and a full load of those infernal grenades in tow. But don’t engage him yet. Wait for us.”
With just a nod, Hugo peeled off with eight other scouts, disappearing into the forest.
“I don’t understand,” Beau said. “I thought you had an agreement with him.”
“We did,” Gerta replied. “But he claims we broke it when we aided your escape from him.”
“But you didn’t,” Beau insisted.
“It doesn’t matter. He learned we were harboring you, and that was enough for him to justify attacking my messengers, leaving them for dead along with any peace we’ve enjoyed.”
“How did he find out?”
“We all have our spies, Beau. Some are willing, others are coerced. Either way, information is better than gold down here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”
“Keep your apologies and focus on what we need to do next.”
“You’re right.” Beau pushed aside the rising tide of guilt. “The only thing I need to think about now is getting to Cressi and Nate.”
He moved to scramble into his saddle, but Gerta stopped him with a firm hand. “That won’t be necessary.”
Beau’s stomach turned in on itself. “Why not?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Gerta replied as she stepped away to speak with yet another scout.
“No!” Beau insisted, following her. “Enough secrets, enough lies! Tell me right now! Where are they?”
Gerta surrendered a small smile. But rather than dripping with judgment, there was something almost kind as she nodded toward the pathway. “Why don’t you ask that pair of wanderers there.”
Long before he could see their faces, Beau knew them. It was the way they carried themselves, the cock of his head, the regal thrust of her chin. These weren’t just any two wanderers; they were the very wanderers he’d been searching for.
Never before had Beau been happier to see two people who despised him as much as Cressi and Nate did.
Chapter Thirty-Five
United Front
Beau thought he’d know how to handle this moment. That he’d say the exact right thing. He’d tell both Cressi and Nate how sorry he was, how he’d done them both so wrong. But seeing Cressi running toward him now and Nate hanging back, his expression fixed in a glower, Beau was too overwhelmed to do anything but stand there.
Then Cressi hugged him.
In that brief moment when her arms were thrown around his neck, Beau understood what he was feeling was bigger than relief, wider than guilt or regret. It was deeper than sadness, anger, or unbounded joy. It was as if a part of himself had been restored.
Cressi fell back and punched him playfully on the arm.
“You’re an idiot,” she said. “I hope you know that.”
“It’s the only thing I do know,” Beau said, rubbing his shoulder. “And I definitely didn’t know you could land such a blow.”
Cressi raised a brow then opened her
palm, revealing the power behind her punch.
“My pawn!” Beau exclaimed as she pressed it into his hand.
“It’s happy to be back with you. It’s almost like it’s purring. You feel that?”
He did. It was warm and comforting, but it was also a reminder of all he’d almost lost.
“I’m so sorry, Cressi, I—” Beau began when she stopped him.
“We’re not doing that now. There are too many other things to talk about.” Cressi cast a glance behind her where Nate had stopped on the pathway.
With his eyes downcast and a scowl planted on his face, Nate looked no more approachable than a pacing panther.
“I’m not apologizing,” Beau whispered. “He hit me.”
“And you hit him back.”
“He deserved it!”
“He wouldn’t be Nate otherwise.”
Beau looked over at Nate just as he was sneaking a look up at Beau. They were sizing each other up like a couple of predators, each waiting for the other to pounce. Or to yield.
How is it possible to both despise and miss someone at the same time?
“You don’t have to like each other,” Cressi announced, “but you do have to make your peace.”
Judging by the look on Nate’s face, there was no peace to be had.
“You lied to me,” he snarled.
“I did,” Beau agreed. “I thought if you knew who I was you’d run me through with your blade.”
Nate shrugged. “I probably would’ve.”
“Nate!” Cressi scolded.
“No, it’s fine,” Beau said. “It’s honest. Which is more than I was. I hid the truth from him, just as it’s been hidden from me my whole life. It wasn’t right.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t trust anyone, can you?” Nate clearly wasn’t ready to let it go yet, and Beau wasn’t about to push him. He was here and that was enough.
“Can we move this reunion along?” Gerta called. Her usual gruff impatience had returned, although there might have been a tiny hitch of relief hiding in the back of her throat.
The three walked on in silence, Beau and Cressi side by side, Nate still maintaining his distance. And even though she’d told him not to, Beau couldn’t hold back all the things he wanted to say to her.
“I need to tell you, you were right about me, about everything,” Beau began. “I should have listened to you, but I didn’t know how to, I didn’t understand any of it. I don’t even understand it now, but I do know I have to go stand up to my father, demand he put an end to Mastery House, return the children to their families. Ensure everyone in the Land has food to eat and homes to live in. Lives of meaning. But I already put you through way too much. You both should go back to Gerta’s settlement. Between my father and Doone and Torin, you won’t be safe anywhere else.”
Cressi gave Beau a knowing look, the same one she’d hit him with when they first met. “I didn’t come to find you only to make sure you were safe. I came to help you do what you need to do. We’re going with you. You need us.”
“No, it’s—” Beau began.
“Not really your choice.” Cressi took the pawn from Beau and placed it in Nate’s hand, watching with satisfaction as he jumped with recognition.
“I guess none of us have a choice, do we?” Nate muttered.
As the party traveled north, Cressi told Beau how she and Nate managed to escape Doone’s and how they met two of Gerta’s scouts in the woods who were on the way to rescue them.
“They didn’t seem pleased to be spared the heroics,” Cressi laughed. “So we let them think we needed them to lead us back to you. But really, it was the pawn. The closer we got, the more it jumped. It was almost making me woozy with the heat.”
Even though Fledge and Gerta had already told Beau most of what Cressi had gone through since leaving the Manor, he asked her to tell him herself. Hearing her voice, her story, calmed him and energized him too.
When she’d finished, Beau couldn’t help but laugh. “I wonder how Barger would feel knowing he and Doone both hatched the same plot against me?”
“I’m sure they’d both be flattered,” Cressi said. “Thinking like the enemy and all that.”
“Well, too bad for them,” Beau said. “No one is going to use me.”
“As it should be.” Cressi hooked one arm through Beau’s and the other through Nate’s. “Now, I don’t care how you do it, but you two are going to have to forgive each other before we get back to the Manor. We’ll never make it if you don’t.”
Nate scoffed and kicked at the ground. Clearly it was up to Beau to break the deadlock.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you,” he said. “It’s just that the way you talked about Doone I thought it had to be him. I should’ve known it was you. What a pillock, right?”
“I don’t know.” Nate gave a begrudging shrug. “I would’ve thought it was Doone too.”
“Then you’re both pillocks,” Cressi said. “All right, so now that’s out of the way, we can get on to the barracks.”
That feeling of warm comfort abandoned Beau, leaving him chilled to the bone. “Why would we go there?”
“There’s an entire battalion of guards at the barracks in the Lower Middlelands,” Cressi explained. “I left a brew to heal them, but if they’ve kept covering themselves over with Doone’s blankets, they won’t have healed.”
“Wait, your grand plan is to heal a bunch of guards?” Nate interrupted. “They’ll escort us back to the Manor all right—in shackles!”
“I’ve thought well past that,” Cressi said. “I also left a loyalty brew. If Keb and Boz are any indication, it works like a . . . well, like a charm. They’ll help us.”
“Ooh.” Nate lit up with a wide grin. “I know exactly how to use them to our best advantage too.”
“Hold up.” Beau stopped, loosening his hold on Puzzle’s reins, leaving her room to feed on some nearby moss. “We’re not going to use other people like Doone and Barger do. We’re not looking to inflict harm, not even on those who would rather see us dead. We’ll fix this ourselves and without starting a war.”
“We’re already in a war,” Nate said.
“And we can’t simply walk into the Manor and expect Himself to greet you with open arms,” Cressi added. “The loyalty brew will do them no harm. Once it wears off, they’ll be free to choose for themselves. Although I warrant they’ll not want to return to the days of Manor rule. In the meantime we have to be prepared, ready for anything.”
Cressi had been right all along, but Beau really hoped this might be the one time she’d be wrong.
Soon after they’d reached the border between the Bottom and the Lower Middlelands, one of Gerta’s scouts arrived with the news that the two messengers Doone had attacked were doing well under Lula’s care. They would both make a full recovery.
“She’s a charmer, you know,” Cressi said. “Lula’s got the gift.”
“If she’s a charmer and you’re a charmer, how many more are there?” Nate asked.
Cressi shrugged. “There’s no knowing until it’s safe to be one again. But the art is not nearly as dead as the Manor would like people to think.”
A short while later, Gerta brought the small company to a halt at the mouth of the tunnel leading into the barracks.
“My scouts tell me it’s safe to go in,” she announced. “But I think it best if you three proceed alone. No sense in overwhelming Anka.”
After assuring Gerta they’d be safe, swift, and above all, successful, Cressi led the boys to the barracks’ kitchen where Anka was awaiting their arrival.
Anka hugged each of them as if they were her own long-lost children before sending Cressi and Nate off with a large cauldron of soup to begin healing and making loyal champions out of the guards.
“But Beau,” she added, “if you’d stay with me for a moment, I have something for you.”
The thought of being separated from Cressi and Nate, even by a few rooms, raised a sweat on Beau�
�s brow. He didn’t want to do it; it felt wrong in every possible way. Only after Cressi assured him that she and Nate would be more than safe did Beau agree.
Anka locked the door, then pulled a small salt box down from a high shelf. It was a plain, dusty old thing, but she set it down on the table before Beau like it was cast out of gold.
“Open it.”
Before the lid was even all the way off, Beau smelled it. Her. That heady mix of apples and lily that permeated everything in his mother’s apartments. He’d once taken a small hand linen from her rooms that carried the scent and tucked it under his pillow. The sweet, earthy smell became a calming balm, lulling him to sleep. But one night after Beau had crawled into bed, he found it gone. The next day her apartments were shuttered, leaving the Fist set he’d found in her wardrobe the only tangible reminder of her.
Whatever else the box contained, Beau was sure it couldn’t be as precious as the chance to breathe in her perfume once again.
But he was wrong, for the box revealed two small canvases wrapped in scraps of dark green velvet. One canvas was a portrait of a young man, handsome with an open smile. Beau recognized parts of the face in his own, but otherwise the subject was a stranger. The man appeared in the second painting as well. There he stood at ease, his hand lovingly draped on the shoulder of a woman cradling a tiny infant. Beau had never seen the woman before either, but he knew her. He knew that look in her eye. He’d seen it every time the woman in the Bottom looked at her daughter.
“Are these my . . . parents?” Beau looked up to ask Anka, but she was gone, the back door hanging open in her wake.
Beau stared at the paintings, torn between tears and fury. They looked so happy. Himself was a different man. There was nothing in the images to foreshadow all the pain and anger to come.
Why would anyone want Beau to have this? So he knew all he was missing in life? Beau dropped the paintings on the table like a pair of red-hot coals just as Cressi appeared at the back door.
The Verdigris Pawn Page 22