Anton wanted to reassure Kendryk that they were just as bad in a lot of other places, but had a feeling that wouldn’t help. Besides, in spite of the clear air, the wine wasn’t sitting too well. It was hard to not be sick at the roadside.
He glanced at Kendryk out of the corner of his eye. Since he’d come up with this plan, he’d changed a great deal. His face was stern and grim now, rather than just sad. And if he noticed the effects of the wine, he didn’t show it. Likely he was used to it, having grown up in the area.
The vintner Anton had worked for assured him that children here went straight from their mother’s milk to a watered-down mixture of the latest vintage.
“Wouldn’t babies hate the taste?” Anton had stared at the man, prematurely stooped from decades of working the steep terraces.
“Not if they’re of good Terragand stock,” the vintner said, pride in his voice. “My children all took to it like the most natural thing in the world. And there’s nothing better to help them sleep when they don’t want to.”
Anton had almost laughed, thinking of how Susanna would react to such a suggestion. He’d been so happy then, looking forward to the baby, wondering what they’d name it and how they’d raise it.
They’d argued about whether a boy or girl would be better. Anton, remembering how he’d loved his little sister, wanted a girl, but Susanna preferred a boy.
“Men have it easier in life,” she said.
“They do not. I’m a man and I’ve had an awful time these past few years.”
“I’m not talking about you, silly. I mean in general. It’s harder to always be smaller, to be the one to have babies. And I don’t suppose you’ve ever had to worry about drunken soldiers groping you, have you?” She’d glared at Anton as if some other fellow’s bad behavior was his fault.
“No, but I have to worry about other things, like getting killed. And these days, you don’t have to worry about anyone but me groping you.” He’d grabbed her around the waist, pulling her in for a kiss, and that ended the discussion.
Anton wondered if he’d ever stop feeling sad, missing her and wondering what their baby would have been like.
“There’s Birkenfels.” Kendryk interrupted his reverie.
Anton squinted. The sun was setting, but he saw the outline of the castle in the distance. “Looks familiar.” He managed a smile for Kendryk.
“That’s right. You were there when Arryk broke the siege.”
“My first big battle.” Anton had distinguished himself then too, but didn’t need to brag to Kendryk.
“I’m so glad we’ve always hung onto it,” Kendryk said. “It’s all I have now.” Then he spurred his horse and Anton followed.
They reached the castle before nightfall. Anton enjoyed riding in at the side of a prince. Years ago, Anton had been in the courtyard when King Arryk rewarded him, but he’d been a little boy, and one of many common soldiers being recognized that day. He’d come a long way since then.
Inside the castle, grooms hurried to take their horses, and servants rushed around to make them comfortable. Anton was shown to his room—a tiny chamber high up in the tower. It wasn’t luxurious, but the view more than made up for it, and he spent an hour before supper watching the moon rise over the river.
When he went down to eat, Kendryk was arranging their departure. He introduced Anton to Baron Persyn, an old man in charge of the garrison.
“We’ll take two hundred guards,” Kendryk told Anton. “The rest of our escort will reach the castle in the next few days and can stay here until Lennart arrives.”
“Won’t he be mad?” Anton asked while shoveling in venison stew with a crust of fresh-baked bread.
“Maybe,” Kendryk said. “But I don’t much care. This is my decision and he has no say in it. I appreciate that he was trying to help us, but he doesn’t always know best.”
“Your Grace,” the old baron said. “Who will rule Terragand while you’re away?”
Kendryk’s eyebrows shot up. Clearly he hadn’t given it any thought. “You’re right. I must appoint someone.”
He paused, drumming his fingers on the heavy wood of the table. Anton couldn’t imagine who he might choose.
“Of course,” Kendryk finally said. “Edric Maximus. He can rule well enough from his seat in Heidenhof. I’ll draw up a document before I leave.”
His face darkened. “If something should happen to me, he’ll stay in charge until Gwynneth can get here. She’ll be regent until Maryna is old enough.”
“I’m certain nothing will happen to you,” the old man said. “But leaving the Maximus in charge is wise.”
Anton thought so too.
Braeden
“How can we tell which way she’s gone?” Trisa asked, her voice low. They’d been on Fernanda Vastic’s trail for about an hour now, with no sign of her.
“We can’t,” Braeden said. “We’ll need some luck. But she’s been shot, and she’s on foot. We have the advantage, especially once it gets light.”
He had his doubts on that score, but it didn’t do to voice them. Somehow, he’d find this woman, and reassure himself that she was just another agent of Teodora’s, not some unholy reincarnation of Daciana Tomescu. “We’ll go slow and quiet, keep an ear out for any strange noises.”
It was pitch black here in the dense forest, but Braeden gave Kazmir his head. He’d feel his way through slowly. Braeden’s eyes had adjusted and he could distinguish the shapes of trees and bushes with ease. If he looked up, a blanket of stars twinkled down at him.
Tired as he was, he kept his ears open. There was no telling how far ahead the fugitive was. They were unlikely to see her in the darkness, but they might hear her. It was silent but for the breathing of the horses and the occasional clank of armor.
After plodding along for what felt like hours, Braeden dozed off. He awoke to a crash and shouting behind him. He shook himself and turned Kazmir around.
“Let me through,” he said, heading toward the noise. Who would attack them from the rear? Surely a wounded woman all alone wouldn’t be so foolish? Between the trees, the sky turned gray, but it was still too dark to see anything.
“Light a torch,” Braeden shouted. With all the commotion, their quarry would know they were here anyway.
“What in the name of ...” he trailed off as he reached the rear guard and saw who they had. “Vica’s tits, Your Grace. What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” Devyn Bernotas stared up at Braeden with a challenging glare. “Unhand me, you idiot,” he snapped at the man holding him, who promptly dropped his arm.
“Is something wrong?” Braeden’s mouth was suddenly dry. “The princess ... Natalya?”
“They’re fine.” Devyn shook himself, then touched a bloodied corner of his mouth and scowled. “This man struck me. How do you plan to punish him, Commander Terris?”
“Punish him?” Braeden dismounted and walked straight up to Devyn. The boy was tall for his age, but had to tilt his head back to look Braeden in the eye.
“This guard was doing his job, watching our rear. You were lucky no one shot you.” Then he remember to add, “Your Grace.”
Devyn scoffed. “I shouted out who I was long before they spotted me.”
Braeden shook his head. “Your Grace, with all respect, we’re on the trail of a very dangerous person. Silence is crucial, though it’s too late for that now.”
Devyn’s face fell. “Do you suppose she’s got away because of me?”
“Might be.” Braeden sighed. All haughtiness had dropped from the young duke’s manner and he looked ready to cry. “Though I doubt she’ll get far. Once it’s light I hope we can pick up her trail.”
“Good.” Devyn’s face brightened again. “I’ve decided to join you. It was I after all, who first injured this criminal. It seems right I should help apprehend her.”
Braeden couldn’t recall any twelve-year-old he’d ever known with such a vocabulary. He was sure even Elektra Inferrara
hadn’t been so haughty at that age. “Does your mother know you’re here?” he asked.
Devyn shrugged. “She’ll work it out soon enough. Stella figured it out right away and tried to follow me. I had to shut her into the Maxima’s coach, but knowing her, she’ll make such a fuss it’ll take them ages to figure out where I’ve gone.”
He tilted his head. “It seemed a six-year-old girl was too young for this sort of mission.”
Braeden had to laugh at that. “You’re too young for this mission. I’m sorry, Your Grace, but you’ll slow us down.”
Devyn narrowed his eyes at that. “I most certainly will not. I’m twelve now, and practically a man. I’m certain if my sister hadn’t wasted the first pistol shot I would have killed this woman.”
“I’m sure you would have.” Braeden doubted humoring the duke would help his cause, but he didn’t know what else to do. “But my orders are to take Fernanda Vastic alive.”
“I understand.” Devyn raised his chin. “And I will be at your side when you do so.”
Braeden shook his head. Even at the slow pace they’d traveled, they had to have gone at least five leagues. It would take hours for someone to return the boy, and Braeden couldn’t spare anyone. “I don’t have a horse for you.”
“We must buy one as soon as possible.” Devyn looked past Braeden’s shoulder. “In the meantime, that girl can ride behind me. The two of us won’t be too heavy for that horse.”
Braeden suppressed a grin at Trisa’s snort, then said sternly, “That girl is Lieutenant Torresia, and she is senior to you. If you’re to come along, you’ll ride behind her and do exactly as she says. Is that understood?”
Devyn stared at him with narrowed eyes, then turned them on Trisa. “If she’s an officer then of course I’ll observe military protocol, but I demand a promotion at the first opportunity.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Braeden said it without a hint of laughter in his voice.
Elektra
“What’s happened, sir?” Elektra couldn’t bring herself to call Edric “Your Holiness,” but felt he was still deserving of respect. It was clear he’d received a disturbing message while they sat at breakfast.
Edric frowned and put the note aside. “It seems Prince Kendryk has decided to go to Galladium and I’m left in charge of Terragand in the meantime.”
“As ruler? Oh dear, I’m sure that’s a lot of extra work for you.” Elektra knew her mother often left Livilla in charge of affairs of state, so it made sense Kendryk would trust his own Maximus to the same degree.
“It’s not the work that bothers me.” Edric drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s that Kendryk is venturing into possibly hostile territory without an army. Terragand is safe but he must cross Brandana, and there’s no telling what Brynhild Mattila is up to.”
“I expect she’ll be looking for a way to join up with Lennart.” Elektra picked up a slice of bread, then tore out the soft center to eat first. She’d never liked the crusts, even though her old nurse had always forced her to eat them anyway.
“Perhaps. But I would also expect your mother to make her an offer she can’t refuse.”
Elektra scoffed. “They hate each other.”
“Your mother is desperate.” Edric’s eyes were grave. “Who else can she turn to?”
“My mother can be stubborn to the point of stupidity.”
“But those around her are not.” Edric pushed his plate away.
Elektra didn’t want to talk about Teodora anymore. “Why is Prince Kendryk going to Galladium? I don’t understand why he’s leaving now.”
“He hasn’t heard from his family in some time and received an unpleasant letter from your mother, intimating she’s had them all murdered.”
Elektra stared. “How would she manage such a thing?”
“She claimed it was Daciana Tomescu who killed Princess Gwynneth and all five little children.”
“But Daciana Tomescu is dead.” Icy fingers crept up Elektra’s spine.
“That’s why Kendryk thinks it’s likely a lie, an attempt of your mother’s to upset him. Still, he wants to be certain they’re safe.”
“Why doesn’t he send a trusted servant? He needn’t go himself.”
“He’s already sent someone—your friend Braeden.” Edric’s mouth quirked upward as Elektra shuddered. “But Braeden left here months ago, and Kendryk has heard nothing from him either.”
While Elektra felt bad, thinking her mother might have murdered five children, she couldn’t help but allow for a bit of hope that Braeden had come to harm.
“So the prince has gone anyway, and left you in charge. You needn’t worry about Mattila right now. She won’t do anything to make Mother happy, and knows she’d love to get her hands on Prince Kendryk. Mattila would let him go just to spite her.”
Edric smiled at that. “I hope you’re right. And it’s true, the prince has taken a large armed escort. Unless war breaks out in the next few weeks, he ought to be safe enough.”
“You like him very much, don’t you?” Elektra wanted to meet Prince Kendryk sometime. It was rare that anyone challenged her mother the way he had and lived to tell about it.
“He’s like a son to me.” Edric gulped down the rest of his tea, then stood. “And there’s more. Come with me to the library and I’ll explain it to you.”
Elektra had her own desk in the large library, but now she followed Edric to his, and took a seat across from him.
His desk was piled high with books and papers, but he seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.
“You read the Ancient Tongue well enough,” he said, pulling a dusty old book toward him. It fell open to a page he’d clearly studied often. He turned it around and shoved it toward Elektra.
“I’ve read your translation of this,” she said, recognizing the passage. “It was one of the most exciting parts.”
“Yes, and one of the most important. Now, read it again, slowly. You can stop before the last paragraph on the page.”
Elektra read, moving her lips, her finger sliding along each line. She hadn’t seriously studied the Ancient Tongue until she came here. Since she’d shown no aptitude in the temple school, Livilla hadn’t forced it, allowing her to study politics, history and ciphers instead. After a few moments she looked up.
“I understand. You believe Kendryk is the ruler leading the forces of light to victory.”
Edric nodded. “I do.”
Elektra leaned back in her chair. “Isn’t Lennart more likely the one?”
Edric smiled. “Lennart is sure of it, and has much to commend him. But the Scrolls say this ruler comes from within the empire, and mosts likely from Kronland. You see what it says there, about the inheritance of the Blessed Teodora’s children.”
“Yes. Kassandra and Demetrios were the youngest but they had no birthright in Forli. So they came north and settled in Atlona. The Kronland rulers are all descended from them, so that makes sense.” Elektra frowned. “So why did Kendryk leave, if he has this important destiny?”
Edric sighed. “He doesn’t really believe in it.”
Elektra shook her head. “He doesn’t want it?” If she had such a glorious future, laid out in the Scrolls themselves, she would embrace it. She’d never cared that the Inferraras weren’t descended from Kassandra and Demetrios, but now she wished she had at least a chance at being so important.
“He never has. He’s rather humble in this respect, which makes him all the more worthy.”
Elektra smiled. “You shouldn’t worry. If this is Kendryk’s fate, he’ll find it wherever he is, don’t you agree?”
“I hope so.” Edric’s answering smile was thin. “But I wish he were here instead, with Lennart’s armies behind him.”
Teodora
Teodora dreamed, but her dreams were dull, colorless and sluggish. It was like wading in mud up to her knees, hardly able to move, though she had nowhere to go.
She needed to wake up, but wasn’t able to for
ce her eyes open. She heard voices, and sometimes saw light against her eyelids, but they felt weighed down.
At last she pushed sound through her throat, though her mouth wouldn’t open. A shadow moved in front of the light and Teodora realized her eyes had been open all along.
She blinked, and the figure became clearer.
“Livilla?” She thought it, wanted to say it, but only a strangled sound pushed into her throat.
“Thank the gods, Your Highness. I’ll send for the Maxima. She’ll be so happy you’re awake.”
Teodora nearly cried with relief when she recognized her doctor Sibyla’s voice, but her eyes seemed unable to produce tears. She strained for a moment, trying to remember what had happened, but recalled nothing except an eternity of sluggish dreams. She kept her eyes wide open, and shapes became clearer.
So she wasn’t blind then; at least not completely. And she knew who she was. “Teodora Inferrara, Empress of Olvisya.” She said it to herself, though it was only a humming in her throat. She smiled.
“Thank Vica.” That was Livilla’s voice, and pressure on one hand. Livilla must be holding it.
Teodora smiled some more, though she doubted her face showed it.
“Can you speak?” Livilla asked.
“No.” That strangled sound again. She wanted to ask what had happened, but waited for Livilla to tell her.
The mattress sagged next to Teodora as Livilla sat down beside her.
“You’ve been in a strange state for days,” she said. “You had an attack of some sort, then drifted in and out of consciousness. I couldn’t determine how bad the damage was. At first we feared you’d died, but praise Vica, we were wrong.”
So it had been bad. And now she couldn’t speak or move. But she could see, better and better with each passing moment. Her head wouldn’t turn, but she blinked rapidly, hoping Livilla would notice.
Livilla turned away, speaking to Sibyla. “She can blink. Surely we can communicate with her.”
She turned back to Teodora. “One blink means yes; two means no. Do you understand?”
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 2