Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4)

by Christina Ochs

  “I was lucky to escape, but as far as I can tell, Princess Viviane killed or captured all of Kendryk’s escort. We ran for three days, but finally lost them in the woods. I don’t want to stay here, Your Grace,” she whispered, “but I don’t know what else to do. Still, if there’s a chance of freeing Braeden, I’ll come along.”

  “I haven’t figured out what to do yet,” Gwynneth admitted. She didn’t wish to be discouraging, but perhaps Trisa might help her come up with a plan. “I’m not sure I can rely on these troops to fight Princess Viviane.”

  “You might surprise her,” Trisa said. “Everyone is sure you’re dead.”

  Now that was useful information.

  Gwynneth pondered for a moment, then said, “I must go shopping,” looking down at her dirty riding clothes. Princess Edda had sent along a few of her altered dresses, but they wouldn’t do for what Gwynneth had in mind. In spite of her ravaged looks, she’d have to make an impression.

  Trisa looked puzzled. “I suppose there are dressmakers in Lerania.”

  “Can we spare a day? I need to get clothes for Devyn too, since as far as everyone else is concerned, he’s the new Prince of Terragand.”

  Devyn, who’d fallen silent after greeting Trisa, had been looking both pleased and embarrassed. Gwynneth wondered fleetingly if he’d been overtaken in a crush. Trisa wasn’t a pretty girl, but she was lively, intelligent, and a woman of action, something Devyn admired.

  “Maryna is the real ruler,” he protested, turning red.

  “Yes,” Gwynneth said. “But she’s not here right now and we have no idea where she is. I need to present the current ruler of Terragand in the flesh. You can do that, at least for a while, can’t you?”

  “It might help Braeden a lot,” Trisa added, and Gwynneth was grateful that she hadn’t chosen that moment to tease Devyn about fancy clothes.

  That clinched it, and after ordering her army to make camp, Gwynneth, the children and Trisa’s little band rode back into the city to find a dressmaker.

  Elektra

  Elektra was happy to see Countess Biaram alone, but wasn’t sure how far she could trust her. So she hedged for the time being.

  When the countess asked why she had such a large Estenorian escort, Elektra said, “They’re taking me to King Lennart. He’s in negotiations with my mother.” That was at least part of the truth, and it wouldn’t hurt if the countess assumed she was a prisoner for now.

  The countess shook her head, puzzled. “But why are you here? Lennart is in Tirilis.”

  “I’ve been trying to stall.” Elektra led the countess to a window-bench and patted the spot next to her. “I have no wish to return to my mother, so even if Lennart manages a deal with her, it’s best if I’m not there.”

  “That’s wise.” The countess dropped her already low voice to a whisper. “But how in the world did you convince your captors to bring you here?”

  “Major Silberg, that sour old fellow standing at the door, was fond of Prince Kendryk. So when we heard Braeden Terris was accused of his murder, I told him of my experiences with ... with that man.”

  Elektra pulled a face, as if trying to banish awful memories, which she was, in a way. “So he insisted I come here to testify against him.”

  The countess was all smiles. “What a marvelous idea. We’re nearly certain of having the judges convinced, but an archduchess will no doubt clinch the deal.”

  “I hope it does. That man is a menace to everyone.”

  “Even to his friends, it appears.”

  “Especially to his friends. These Estenorians are so shocked he would betray Prince Kendryk, but they seem to forget he betrayed his oaths to the empire, along with the Sanova Hussars, when he undertook that rescue.”

  “True.” The countess nodded. “You must not neglect to mention that during the trial. Even without this crime, he’s guilty of many others.” She hesitated a moment. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course.” Elektra thought of the favor she owed, and hoped it wasn’t anything too awful.

  “The truth is Your Grace, I’m here under your mother’s orders. Prince Kendryk is dead because of me.”

  In that moment, the countess looked especially rat-like, her little pointed noise twitching nervously.

  “I don’t understand.” Why was she being trusted with this information?

  The countess bent her head close to Elektra’s. “I hope you don’t think me too dreadful, but this was necessary to preserve the empire. It’s only a matter of time before Lennart stands at the gates of Atlona and we can’t trust Brynhild Mattila to stop him. Our only hope is to destroy Terragand once and for all.

  “You might already know that all Prince Kendryk’s family are dead, and your mother was also behind that. Without a ruler, Terragand will fall into complete chaos. But this can be averted by carving it up and giving pieces of it to other, more cooperative Kronland rulers.”

  Elektra understood. “Rulers like Princess Viviane?”

  “Yes.”

  “How wicked.” This all sounded very much like her mother’s typical behavior, but Elektra didn’t see why the countess was going along with it.

  “It’s dreadful.” The countess’s eyes were sad. “But sometimes terrible sacrifices must be made in pursuit of a greater good. Just imagine how many lives this awful war has taken already. Half of Kronland is destroyed and the other half will be if Lennart prevails.”

  Nearly forgetting herself, Elektra opened her mouth to protest, but the countess put up a hand. “Oh, the Kronlanders like him well enough now, while he takes on your mother. But once he’s defeated her, they’ll turn on him, especially if he tries to crown himself emperor.”

  “But ...” Elektra wasn’t sure how much she could say. “I’ve heard he may wish to install his own candidate on the throne.”

  “What difference does that make? Whoever it is will be seen as Lennart’s puppet, and rightfully so. Even a cooperative Inferrara relative.”

  She stared at Elektra for a moment, but looked away before she became too uncomfortable. “No, Lennart’s victory will only mean endless war, and the destruction of Kronland and the empire. It cannot be allowed.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Elektra said, her voice shaky. In her hatred for her mother, she hadn’t thought too hard about further implications if Lennart prevailed. And of course, he would present her with an optimistic view of the situation.

  Then she remembered. “What about the Quadrene religion? Surely it won’t accept the breakup of Terragand?”

  “Oh my dear.” The countess looked at Elektra as if she were hopelessly naive, which she probably was. “The Quadrene religion is doomed to failure. You and I know the truth, and it shall prevail, especially once it becomes clear that Lennart is not interested in supporting the false religion, but only in building up his own power.”

  Elektra wasn’t at all sure this was true, though she kept that to herself. She had much to ponder. But she had become distracted, and the implication of what the countess had said earlier finally sank in.

  “So you’re saying that Braeden Terris didn’t kill Prince Kendryk?”

  “He did not. But he appeared by accident, and we had to come up with a way to keep him from thwarting the plan. I was in favor of having him killed along with the prince, but Princess Viviane didn’t agree. She hit upon the scheme of implicating him, to make it look like your mother had nothing to do with it, and by extension herself. And you must know this, since I can see you disapprove.”

  The countess paused and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t involved in the murder myself. I merely provided the princess with certain guarantees on your mother’s behalf in exchange for her help in destabilizing Terragand. She planned and carried it all out herself.”

  “She killed Prince Kendryk?” Elektra couldn’t picture the elegant princess getting the least bit dirty, let alone wielding a weapon of any kind.

  “No, though she helped get him into place and had her peop
le carry it out. And now she’ll cover her tracks with this trial. That you’re here to help works out marvelously. And though I understand why you’re still angry with your mother, once she knows what you’ve done, she’ll be very proud of you.”

  “But I would be lying,” Elektra said, feeling shaky and sick. “I would be taking an oath on the gods and breaking it.” She’d sworn to never do that again.

  “Oh, not at all,” the countess said. “You can’t possibly speak to the murder itself since you weren’t here. No, you will offer a character reference only. I’m sure the truth will be damning enough.”

  “I suppose so.” Elektra tried smiling at the countess reassuringly, even as she wondered how she might get out of this mess. If she had known this was part of her mother’s intrigue, she would never have come here.

  Teodora

  “I won’t have it.” Teodora stormed around her study. She walked much better now, and had resumed her usual pacing, striding the length of her room, though she wasn’t able to go for hours as before. “I won’t sit here while Lennart invades my borders and threatens me.”

  “We’re doing what we can to mobilize the militias.” Count Solteszy looked unusually anxious. “And I’ve contacted recruiters in Moralta and Cesiano for mercenary troops, though I don’t know how we’ll pay for them.”

  “We’ll find a way, even if I have to dig for gold myself.” Teodora would sell her jewelry, and all of the art and furnishings of her palace if that’s what it took to repel the foreign invader.

  She stared at Solteszy, who sat hunched in his chair, looking rather gray and tired. Teodora worried about his health. She didn’t want him faltering now, while Countess Biaram was away, and with no one besides Livilla she could trust.

  Teodora walked to the far wall, then turned and made her way back. By then she was weary enough to drop into her chair. “Hire what armies you can and tell them money is on the way. If you like, give the impression that Maladena will provide, and is delayed by war.”

  “What about the hostages Maladena is sending? Won’t you receive a large sum from Galladium for them?”

  “I expect to, but I don’t have them yet, and getting them here will take months. I doubt Beatryz has even received my message yet. Best not to say anything until that’s more certain. Besides, the fewer people who know important prisoners are traveling through the wilderness, the better.”

  “All right then; I’ll mention Maladena but refrain from specifics.” Solteszy scribbled away. “I hope that will be enough to persuade them. There’s a lot of competition for mercenary armies right now with the war in Galladium.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Teodora snapped. “Just get them.” She drummed her fingers on the table, feeling she’d had more than enough of inaction and waiting for messages that never came.

  After hearing of Kendryk’s death, she’d received nothing further from Countess Biaram, and assumed she was on her way to another kingdom to subvert yet another ruler.

  The autumn weather had been bad everywhere, but it wasn’t bad enough for mail not to make its way to her. In fact, the passes remained open and Teodora received letters from everyone she didn’t care about. Annoying.

  When Solteszy left her—staggering under a pile of paper he’d keep working on while he sat in bed, a little desk on his knees—Teodora sent for Sibyla. She hadn’t yet had her supper and they could share.

  Once the servants had brought a simple meal of cold roast pheasant, hot onion soup slathered in cheese, and fine white bread sliced thin, Teodora turned to her doctor. “Be honest with me. How is my condition?”

  Sibyla smiled. “Your condition is excellent,” she said, spreading butter onto a slice of bread. “Better than I ever hoped for. You have a remarkable constitution and tremendous willpower. Your recovery is as close to complete as I’ve ever seen.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Teodora sipped at her still too-hot soup. “Because I’ve decided it’s time for me to go back into the field. I will not sit here while Lennart marches over the mountains and invades my country. I won’t have it.” She dropped her spoon with a clatter and stared at Sibyla, as if challenging her to prevent it.

  But Sibyla laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised you want to go, and there’s no point in trying to stop you. But surely you don’t plan to leave right now?”

  “I do. I plan to march to the nearest pass and pick off enemy troops as they come over. I keep hoping it’ll snow, but can’t rely on that. And even if it does, it’s only a temporary stay. Lennart will be back in the spring.”

  She’d hoped the upheaval in Terragand would distract him, but he might easily handle the business up north during the winter, then return to menace her when the weather cleared.

  “I believe that’s something you can do in your condition, as long as you travel by carriage.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Teodora had been riding again, but she tired too easily to do it more than an hour at a time. “I don’t see why I can’t take a carriage. Some great generals do that when they become too old or infirm to sit a horse, and there’s no shame in it. You’ll come with me.”

  Sibyla looked surprised, but said, “I would insist in any case.”

  A few months ago, Teodora had had words with her doctor about her inappropriately overbearing manner. Sibyla had been suitably meek for at least three days before reverting to her usual bossiness. Perhaps both she and Teodora were too old to change.

  “Good,” Teodora smiled at her, happier already. “I’ll make the arrangements, and we’ll get ready to march toward the mountains soon.”

  Gwynneth

  Getting clothes for everyone took longer than Gwynneth had hoped, and they arrived in Kronfels only a day before the trial.

  The city buzzed with excitement, but Gwynneth didn’t bother stopping, riding straight through to Princess Viviane’s palace on the other side. Being in this place again, where she and Kendryk had helped make history, nearly undid her. She had to force herself to look straight ahead, unblinking, as they passed the house where they’d stayed, and the temple where Edric had been tried.

  Trisa had been about Devyn’s age at the time of Edric’s trial, and remembered Kronfels well. “My father and Braeden were Teodora’s bodyguards, if you can picture that,” she said with an indignant sniff. “We all thought it a great honor, though even then you could see the empress wasn’t popular at all.”

  “Of course she wasn’t,” Devyn said. “No one has ever been more hated. I’m surprised you allowed your father to work for her,” he added with a challenging smirk.

  After spending a few days with Trisa, their relationship resumed what Gwynneth guessed had been its former shape, with Trisa playing the part of bossy older sister, and Devyn in a constant state of playful rebellion. Gwynneth was grateful for that, since she knew how he missed Maryna.

  “In fact,” Devyn added with a scowl, “I’m sure the empress was behind my father’s death.”

  Gwynneth was convinced of that, though she’d said nothing about it yet. But believing wasn’t enough. She needed proof that Teodora was behind it.

  She turned to Devyn, riding just behind her. “I’m certain you’re right, but please say nothing about that to anyone. If it’s true, Teodora may well have agents here and we will have to tread cautiously while we figure it out.”

  Nothing good had happened to Kendryk’s troops camped within the palace grounds, so Gwynneth ordered hers to make camp in a meadow a league away. She took an escort of two hundred with her hoping to make an impressive show anyway.

  Before approaching the palace, she changed into her new dress and made Devyn wear his princely clothes. He scowled and squirmed, but looked the part anyway. Very tall for his age, he resembled his Uncle Arryk a great deal, and Gwynneth felt a sudden surge of pride.

  If the worst happened, and Maryna never turned up again, Devyn would make a good ruler for Terragand. He was still young, and much too proud and stubborn, but he w
as also brave and intelligent.

  “Surprisingly handsome,” Trisa said upon seeing him in his suit of royal blue velvet, putting a hand on her cuirass. “My poor girlish heart.”

  “Oh shut up,” Devyn snapped, even as he blushed.

  Gwynneth tried and failed to get color into her own cheeks, but decided looking grief-stricken and pale might be more effective.

  Her new dress was of a purple so dark as to be nearly black, a color she always avoided before, because it made her look washed-out. She left her hair loose and straight, which she hoped added to the tragic effect.

  “Oh, Your Grace.” Trisa turned away from teasing Devyn. “You look so beautiful and very sad.”

  “I am sad,” Gwynneth said.

  Gwynneth had asked Trisa to stay behind in camp. She could still use her, but preferably as a surprise for later. Trisa could also keep an eye on Stella, who worshiped her, and didn’t need to be there for the first audience with Princess Viviane. With any luck, Gwynneth’s and Devyn’s presence would be surprise enough.

  In Lerania, Gwynneth had also had the dressmaker stitch together a Terragand standard. It wasn’t of the size and quality the prince would normally use, but it was better than nothing.

  So when they approached the palace, Gwynneth and Devyn rode at the head of a large company, the blue and silver banner rippling over Devyn’s head.

  The guards at the gate made way without question, though the shock on their leader’s face was visible. Gwynneth nearly smiled as she watched a messenger tearing off toward the palace. She’d also been careful to mention that her entire regiment was camped nearby.

  The princess waited for her by the time they approached the main entrance, and had even organized a small welcoming party of court lords and ladies.

  “What a charming surprise, Your Grace.” Princess Viviane’s face was blank, though a little strained. “We thought you were dead.”

  “I know.” Gwynneth dismounted, and came toward her. It didn’t escape her notice that Princess Viviane took a tiny step back before recovering. “But it was a false report. I heard what had happened and came as quickly as I could. This is Prince Devyn, the ruler of Terragand.”