We rode fast, galloping at a precarious pace to the bend Terin had picked to make an initial stand. I remembered the spot from the ride up, the huge boulders, the narrow opening.
Hugh and Ursula were ascending with a point formation, well shielded with spears and swords. They’d been taking out the Tala along the way with poisoned arrows—man and animal alike. I tried not to picture their broken bodies littering the pretty forested path. Instead, riding at Rayfe’s left side, I concentrated on seeing him live through the day.
The snow grew deeper as we descended, making the way treacherous and slick. The cold ate its way into my bones, my blood already thinned by Annfwn’s gentle warmth. The sight of the snow piling ever higher into drifts ate into my hopefulness. I wished I hadn’t so carelessly referred to tragic endings.
I couldn’t bear to think of what would become of me. I knew one thing: I would not spend the rest of my life sitting next to an empty chair.
When we passed through the barrier, in my mind, the crabs scuttled, using my blood magic to reinforce the shield. I wanted it to be as strong as possible, keeping the world out. For now. It crackled like a live thing against my skin, and I fancied I smelled emerald and heard sugared berries.
We heard them coming. The clatter of metal, the hoarse cries of pain and death, harsh sounds in the snow-muffled woods. Rayfe spread the troops around us, many shifting to take positions in the high rocks and tall trees. He positioned himself in the center of the trail, just this side of the densest guard, and tucked me behind him.
We waited.
Snow fell on Rayfe’s hair, turning the black to ash. I held his long dagger in my hand, my fingers growing numb, my heart icing over with resolve.
The crashing approach grew louder, a cacophony that shredded my nerves, until I wanted to shriek at them to stop.
They did.
At this spot, they would have to come nearly single file around the corner. A narrow passage bristling with the spears and swords of the Tala holding it.
Silence fell, more deafening than the noise.
Rayfe rode forward. I followed. No one stopped me.
“Turn back,” Rayfe commanded in a shout. I couldn’t see past his wide cloaked shoulders. “Though I count you as family now, you trespass uninvited here.”
“I demand the return of my sister, Princess Andi.” Ursula’s voice sliced through the cold air like the taste of metal. “Or I seek revenge, if you cannot show me she is well.”
“Queen Andromeda is more than well. She flourishes. More than she did in that mossback tomb you call Ordnung.” Rayfe bit out the retort with surprising venom.
“Brave words from a kidnapper, blackmailer, and demon.” Hugh’s voice carried over the angry mutters of the men.
Oh, for Moranu’s sake. Squeezing Fiona with my knees, I urged her past Rayfe’s stallion, shouldering him aside. She’s a strong and wily little mare.
There, on the other side of the weapon-lined gauntlet, was Ursula. I caught my breath at the sight of her. The weeks had worn the last of any girlishness from her cheeks. Her steely eyes, full of worry, looked luminous in her carved face, her auburn hair pulled ruthlessly back—or cut short—under her helmet. She looked like the statue of Danu come to life. Like a goddess of vengeance.
“Here I am, Ursula. Prince Hugh. As you can see—I’m fine.”
Relief flooded Ursula’s face, and my heart cramped to see how she’d suffered. She’d truly feared for me.
“I do flourish here.” I tried to let her see my sincerity through the lacing of weapons separating us. “I’m happy.” I laid a hand over Rayfe’s, fisted on his thigh. “I love him.”
Ursula’s gaze flicked to Rayfe, scorn whittling the softer emotions from her face. “You’re not in love, Andi. You’ve been brainwashed. Not even Amelia would say something so foolish.”
Hugh stiffened at that, and I wondered at Ursula’s carelessness. Seething tension made her shoulders into high, sharp lines—I could see it from this distance—and her horse shifted restively beneath her.
“Believe me or not. It’s nevertheless true. And you have no business attacking my home and my people.”
Both of their faces blanked at that, she and Hugh seemingly unable to understand what I’d said to them. Rayfe loosened his fist slightly, just enough to squeeze the tips of my fingers.
“Andi.” Hugh gave me his best, most charming smile, as if to coax a child forward with a sweet. “Your home is here, on this side of the pass. Come home with us and we shall sort this all out.”
“If I do, will Uorsin withdraw his armies? Leave the Wild Lands and Annfwn in peace forever?”
Rayfe’s fingers crushed mine at that, but I didn’t wince. I spoke to Ursula and her alone. She met my gaze with a steady, steely glare, one I’d seen many times in the practice yard. This time, I wouldn’t back down from it. A subtle flick of her eyes, a bit down, a hint of shame. Oh, she knew what Uorsin wanted. What he’d always wanted.
Everything.
“We will establish a military presence on the pass.” She said it steadily, as if this wasn’t a declaration of war, speaking only to Rayfe. She’d dismissed me from the conversation. “I will accompany you into Annfwn to see for myself how my sister fares.”
“Impossible,” Rayfe returned. “Outsiders are not permitted. Andromeda speaks highly of you, Princess Ursula. But I wonder what kind of fool believes I’d allow you to hold this pass.”
Her fine lips twitched at that—amusement or irritation, I wasn’t sure.
“You and the Tala have no choice, Rayfe. We are family now. Your father-in-law expects concessions—and his due as your High King. In return you’ll receive the full protection of the Twelve Kingdoms.”
“Ursula! You cannot expect—” The words burst out of me, and she cut me off with a slashing gesture.
“You stay out of this, Andi. Your loyalty is already suspect, and since when do you care about politics? Either you come home with us or we come into Annfwn. Clearly you cannot take care of yourself, so I intend to do it for you.”
My cheeks blazed hot in the freezing air. The snow falling harder now, the chill moving from my bones to my blood. I never imagined she thought so little of me.
Hugh nudged his horse forward, holding up his hands, palm out, in peaceful nobility even as all the weapons pricked toward him, like an enraged porcupine.
“Amelia sends her love, Andi. Your rooms await at Windroven. She bids me tell you she’s with child and begs you to attend her at this time.”
The news thudded into my heart like a second arrow. Amelia having a baby. A child who would carry Tala blood. Salena’s blood. I risked a glance at Rayfe to find him watching me. With a barely perceptible nod, he told me we would have to address that. Yet another reason to survive this day.
“You must give Amelia my regrets. I cannot come to her at this time.” I watched Hugh’s face crease with incredulity. “I have responsibilities here—especially during this time of unrest.”
“After all we did for you?” Hugh’s face flushed to a dangerous red. “After I sacrificed my people for you, to protect you from this . . . demon?” He drew his sword, and it was like a harp string plucked hard and discordant. The tension ratcheted up, and time began to slip through my fingers like so much seawater.
“Stand down, Hugh!” Ursula ordered, a steel-edged shout that didn’t make the least impact on him.
“I won’t return to my beloved Amelia to tell her that not only is her sister wed to an oath breaker, but she has turned her back on Glorianna, her family, and her homeland! I’ll die first!”
Every moment is etched like shards of ice in my mind. The wild glint in Hugh’s noble blue eyes, the way his golden hair caught even the dim light. The bloodred flash of the rubies on his mirror-bright armor as he lunged forward, sword aimed at Rayfe’s unprotected breast.
Just as I had seen.
Only you can save me.
Fiona, smooth as silk beneath me, like an extension
of myself, responded to my thought. She lunged forward, placing me between the point of Hugh’s sword and Rayfe. I heard him scream, part raptor cry, part wolf howl, a man pushed to the farthest edge of reason.
I’ll never forget the sound.
Or Ursula, with her perfect skill and speed, pivoting like a dancer on horseback and slicing Hugh’s throat from ear to ear.
Her blade stopped his forward momentum as it bit into his spine, yanking him back off the horse and into the snow. His astonished blue eyes, as blue as the summer sky he’d never see again, stared sightlessly upwards, while the snow stained crimson in an ever-widening circle.
26
Ursula and I fell off our horses and onto our knees into the deep snow. Between us, we bracketed Hugh. She plunged her bare hands into his rent throat, as if to hold his lifeblood in by sheer force of will. Tears ran down her face, unheeded.
I held his hand as the last bit of brilliance left his face.
Dimly I became aware that fighting had begun and abruptly ended. I couldn’t think about that. It seemed all I could do to track the slowing thud of my heart, to gaze on Hugh’s lifeless face and grasp that he was dead.
Hugh was dead and Rayfe lived.
And I was frozen inside.
Ursula finally pulled her hands from Hugh’s cooling flesh and wrung them together, the blood sticky and covering her to the wrists, like dull red gloves. Her gray eyes lacked all steel; instead they were haunted, ghostlike, the shadows of her skull ringing them in a wide circle of dread.
“What do I do?” she whispered. “Andi—I don’t know what to do.”
Rayfe dropped down beside me on one knee, his arm around my shoulders. “He was a good man. This is a dark day for us all.”
“Not the least of which is that it means all-out war.” I kept my voice as low as hers. Images of the days ahead flicked through my mind. Battles and the ravages of internal strife. Avonlidgh turning on Mohraya. Erich gutted at Uorsin’s feet and Windroven dismantled. Amelia, weeping over a stillborn child.
No. This could not come to pass.
“You’ll tell her I did it,” I told Ursula. Yes. That felt right.
She gaped at me, her lips moving without sound. Rayfe squeezed my shoulder, one fierce spasm, but said nothing.
“I can’t tell her that. This is my fault.”
“You did it to protect me, Ursula.” I took her hands in mine, Hugh’s blood sticky and cold, as cold as the despair in her eyes. “This was my fault, too. We need you. The Twelve Kingdoms need you. We cannot afford civil war.”
“Erich—he will want revenge.”
“A revenge he cannot seek. He won’t be able to reach me in Annfwn.”
“And Amelia. She will believe you killed her one true love.”
The thought stabbed through me, the twin arrows of my sisters shredding my heart. “She already believes I betrayed her.”
In truth, this seemed fair punishment to me, that Amelia would know I’d deliberately hurt her, even though she’d blame me for the wrong thing. The penance fit my crime.
“How can you be sure it will work?” Ursula turned the thought over. “Passes can be taken. You are not safe just because you’re over a meaningless border.”
“Not meaningless, Ursula. Come see.” I glanced back at her over my shoulder. “Bring a witness or two.”
Rayfe raised a black, winged eyebrow at me but followed my wishes. My heart warmed at that, more than if he’d offered me a bouquet of hothouse flowers.
Ursula followed me with the same perfect trust, three of her key troop leaders following. I stepped past the veil, hoping I could, speaking to the crabs.
Pray Moranu this worked.
“Cross this meaningless border, Ursula.”
With a wry twist of her lips, clearly humoring me, she stepped forward. And was stopped.
Wonder and shock twisted the faces of Ursula and her Hawks. Rayfe’s hand landed on my shoulder in a fierce grip that shouted of his feelings more than any words could.
“You cannot, unless I allow it,” I told my older sister. Hopefully I’d get that much control over it, to let in who we wanted to.
She looked at me then, as if seeing me for the first time.
I pushed my advantage. “Ursula—to protect me, you cannot let Uorsin pursue his plans. You must say that you were defeated. You could not take the pass. No one can.”
She studied me, the lost look transforming slowly back into her usual keen stare.
“Without magic involved, I could have taken the pass. And held it.” Her pride stiffened her slumped shoulders.
“No, you couldn’t,” Rayfe and I said on the same breath. A little laugh escaped me, and I looked up at him, at the half smile lifting his lips for me.
Ursula looked back and forth between us. “Perhaps you two are suited.”
She stood, scrubbing the blood off on her thighs, looking back down the trail at Hugh’s corpse, regret and grief lining her face.
“I suppose my penance shall be taking him back to her. Giving her the news myself.”
“Help her, Ursula. Don’t let her lose the baby.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That was a lie, Andi. Hugh thought it might persuade you if you were too deeply”—she glanced at Rayfe—“enthralled.”
I thought of the vision. There were two now. Amelia holding a golden-haired child, overlaying the shadowed bed where she wept for Hugh as the child died. And another, over a dead child. I swayed on my feet and Rayfe steadied me.
“No. There’s a child. And she’ll carry our mother’s blood—the mark of the Tala—as I do. Make sure Amelia and her daughter survive this, Ursula. I’m trusting you to do that.”
She tipped her head a bit, as if seeing me from a different angle would help her understand who I’d become. “Why do I think there’s something more?”
“There is. The child should be with me, so I can teach her as we should have been taught. Send her to me.”
Ursula barked out a laugh, and she shook her head. “I can’t see that ever happening, Andi.”
“I can.”
Something in my certainty stopped her.
“And me?” Her face turned as grave as stone. “Do you still see me as a wise monarch, the murderer of my sister’s husband?”
I stepped out from Rayfe’s sheltering arm and took her hands again. I looked deep into her haunted gaze, past that.
“Yes.” Maybe. “Find the doll our mother gave you. Help Amelia. And don’t trust Uorsin.”
She started to sneer. Stopped. Searched my face.
“What do you know, Andi?”
I opened my mouth to tell her and realized she would never believe me. Not until she learned for herself.
“Take Hugh to Amelia and remember what I’ve told you.”
I squeezed her hands and started to let go. She grabbed me, embracing me in a fierce hug.
“Find the doll. Tell Amelia to find her doll.”
“Dolls, Andi—really?”
“Yes. It’s important.”
“I wondered why you wanted to take that thing with you,” she mused, a vertical line between her brows as she thought. “There won’t be one for Amelia. Salena never had time to make one, the way she died in childbirth.”
I shook my head, slow and measured, so the truth would sink in. “She didn’t. Ask Zevondeth.”
She nodded, slowly, not understanding. Not yet. She would, eventually, and a little piece of my shredded heart broke off for her, knowing that I’d consigned her to sorrowful discoveries.
“Done, then.” Ursula gave it the force of a vow. Hesitated.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered. “I won’t be able to bear it if we never see each other again.”
“Come back. I’ll let you in. Only you. Annfwn could be yours, too. It’s your birthright also.”
She shook her head, duty replacing all else. “If you are our mother’s daughter, I am our father’s. My place is at his side.”
“If you
ever change your mind, Ursula, you know where to find me.”
And with that, the Hawks shouldered Hugh’s corpse, carrying him shoulder high in a mark of honor. Hawks were loyal only to Ursula and so would serve as witnesses to carry her version of this day into the greater world.
They escorted Ursula down the pass and away from me. Until, between the falling snow and deepening shadows, I could no longer see her.
“Shall we go home?” Rayfe finally asked.
I turned to find them all ringing me, watching with solemn concern.
As one, the men, led by Terin, sank to their knees in the snow and saluted me.
“My queen.” Terin lifted his bowed head. “I know you loved him. Your sacrifice for us is great.”
“Loved him? Hugh?”
I looked up at Rayfe, searching his gaze. He nodded at me. “It’s all right. I understand. I never minded that you wished to be with him. It’s my bed you slept in.”
“No. You don’t understand.” I looked from Rayfe to Terin. “I never loved Hugh.”
“I saw you kiss him, my queen”—Terin spoke the words without accusation, only grief—“at Windroven.”
“Ah.” I remembered the moment now. How I’d kissed Hugh’s cheek for all I’d put him through, even as anticipation for Rayfe warmed my blood. “No. That wasn’t love. That was good-bye, to everything I thought I was. That I thought I wanted.”
I took Rayfe’s hand. “I’m where I belong. There’s nothing I wish for more.”
I smiled at him, feeling my lips crack with the movement. The grief would never leave me, but perhaps I could yet find joy in Annfwn. I could enjoy my life. And find ways to make reparations to my sisters.
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “Yes. Please. Take me home.”
Keep reading for a special sneak peek of
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The Tears of the Rose
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1
When they brought Hugh’s empty body home to me, I didn’t weep.
A princess never lets her people see her cry.
The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala Page 31