“She speaks our language!” He grinned at her. “Though she sounds funny.”
“It’s because I speak proper Olvisyan.” Maryna kept smiling. There was something about this boy that made her want to laugh.
“I’m Sepp,” the boy said, “and these are ... oh, never mind about them. Won’t you come down and dance with me?”
“I’d love to,” Maryna said, meaning it, “but I can’t.”
“Your mother won’t let you?”
“It’s not that.” Maryna leaned further out the window and looked around. There were no guards in sight. Most stayed inside, but the few who patrolled beneath the window had disappeared. Perhaps they’d gone to join the party.
Natalya appeared at her shoulder, bringing a few more whistles and admiring noises from the boys. She smiled down at them with that bewitching look she had, the one that Maryna always tried and failed to imitate.
“I’m afraid we’re prisoners,” Natalya said, “so we really can’t come out.”
“Why would someone keep you prisoner?” Sepp asked. “Must be some ugly witch jealous of your beauty. And yours,” he added to Maryna with a gallant bow.
“That’s very near the truth,” Natalya said with a laugh. “The Empress Teodora is our captor.”
That brought an angry reaction from the boys, and Maryna remembered Natalya saying that the people in the mountains here hated both empire and empress.
Natalya went on, speaking quickly. “We need to get away from here before we’re taken to Atlona, but our guards belong to the Duchesa Mantini, and are quite dangerous.”
“We’re not afraid of them.” One of the other boys squared his shoulders.
“Please don’t take them on,” Natalya said, much to Maryna’s disappointment. “There’s another way you can help us, if you would.”
“Anything for you,” Sepp said, with a wink for Maryna. She flushed happily, realizing she’d missed male attention now that Count Vega didn’t like her anymore.
“Please put the word out in the Tirovor villages,” Natalya said. “Tell everyone that Natalya Maxima and the Duchess Maryna are traveling to Atlona as prisoners. I’m certain they’re taking us by the Forgia Pass. I’m also certain someone is looking for us, so the sooner they receive information, the sooner they can rescue us.”
The boys looked at each other.
“We can do that,” Sepp said. “As long as it doesn’t snow, I’m meant to take a load of timber to Calo in two days. It’s a market town bigger than this one, so folk can spread the word from there.”
“Thank you,” Natalya said, “we are most grateful.”
“Thank you,” Maryna echoed, and added, “I do wish I could dance with you.”
“So do I.” Sepp looked at her a long time, then said, “I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”
Maryna laughed and blew him one, though her laughter died at the sight of Count Vega approaching the group of boys.
“Off with you.” He shooed the boys off as if they were a flock of birds. “You are not allowed to talk to these women. They are dangerous criminals.”
“If you say so,” Sepp said with a saucy grin, even as he stepped away. He caught Maryna’s eye before turning back to the square and she smiled at him again.
Count Vega stood on the street below, scowling up at her. “You attract too much attention.” Those were the first words he’d spoken to her since they’d left the ship. “Make ready to leave in the morning.”
“I will.” Maryna held his gaze, even though it didn’t soften the way it used to.
He turned away, muttering something under his breath, and Maryna shut the window.
“He’s going to take us away,” she said to Natalya in case she hadn’t heard.
“It’s all right,” Natalya said. “There are only a few roads to Atlona. If Gauvain has sent someone to search for us, they’ll find us soon.”
Braeden
Once the snow stopped it turned freezing, but the villagers kept warm by working especially hard. Everyone went out to shovel snow in shifts, and kept at it for several days.
Braeden put his soldiers to work. They sooner they dug out, the sooner they could get back to looking for Gwynneth. He hoped she and the children were being kept in decent conditions in this appalling weather.
The long storm had been hard on the village and the surrounding area. Several farmers had lost livestock if they didn’t have adequate shelter, and commerce had come to complete halt for the duration. So Braeden’s silver was welcome, and joining in the extra work made the villagers even friendlier.
On the third day after the blizzard’s end, Braeden had been taking his turn, clearing the road leading from the village into the forest. They’d cleared the route to the main road first, but plenty of folk liked to cut through the woods on the way to another market town. Even though Braeden was a little long in the tooth, he still shoveled snow as well as fellows half his age, which made up for the pain in his knees and wounded shoulder.
He paused in his shoveling, squinting against the bright sunlight, when he noticed Gerd coming down the road. He knew from talking to others that Gerd had been gone for two days, so he hoped he had news.
Gerd didn’t have to say anything for Braeden to know he wanted to talk.
“Let’s get inside and warm up,” Braeden said, handing his shovel to a young woman who’d just appeared. He hoped she wasn’t here to see Gerd, but she set to shoveling right away without a second glance.
It was impossible to get any privacy at the burgomaster’s crowded house, so Braeden led Gerd to the tavern, which had been doing an especially brisk business since the storm. Still, in the middle of the day it was rather quiet, so Braeden found the most secluded corner and sent the serving boy to bring ale and food.
“I could eat a horse,” he said.
“Be glad you don’t have to,” Gerd said darkly.
“Are things rough for folk in the forest?” Braeden asked.
Gerd nodded. “They are. Many are still digging out, and a few houses have collapsed roofs or branches fallen on them, although no one was hurt.”
Gerd licked his lips as the boy brought a trencher of pork and pickled cabbage for each of them. “Though I worry things will be worse later in the winter. Enough food stores were damaged and livestock lost that many will be short on food before spring.”
“When I get back to Kronfels, I’ll do what I can to help,” Braeden said. “I’m sure we can organize some kind of relief.”
Gerd raised his eyebrows at that. “That would be a new thing. Some of the nobility help when their people fall on hard times, but Princess Viviane never cared.”
“Well, she’s out of the way now,” Braeden said, though he wished she were dead.
“Thank the gods for that.” Gerd took a long swallow of ale.
Braeden tried not to die of impatience. “Any word on Princess Gwynneth?” he finally asked.
“Wondered when you’d get to that.” Gerd grinned. “And yes, I have word. First of all, the princess and her children are well and safe, being kept in a warm, comfortable place.”
“Have you seen them?” Braeden frowned, wondering exactly what Gerd’s involvement was.
Gerd shook his head. “No, but my source is reliable. I passed along what you said the other day, and the uprising’s leader wants to meet with you. Everyone calls him Florian.”
“Is he the one holding the princess?”
“Yes.” Gerd took a long swig of ale.
“I’ll want to see her,” Braeden said.
“Good.” Gerd grinned. “She wants to see you too.”
“Of course she does.”
“I think it might be more than that.” Gerd hesitated, then went on. “Florian was specific in saying she wanted to talk to you about something.”
“All right,” Braeden said. “Tell Florian to bring her here and we’ll talk.”
Gerd shifted in his chair. “I’m afraid that’s not how it’ll work. Florian want
s you to come see him and the princess. He also wants you to come alone.”
“Not happening,” Braeden said. “No way am I following you into the woods by myself. I might not be the smartest man, but I’m not that dumb.”
Gerd replied only with a shrug, so Braeden carried on. “I won’t bring everyone, but I’m definitely bringing a few guards. If I can’t do that, I won’t meet with anyone.”
“All right,” Gerd said, “Florian won’t like it, but I know he wants to meet with you, so I’ll take you.”
“Good man. When can we go?”
“In the morning. That way you can be back here by sundown.”
The next morning, Braeden had Kazmir made ready for him, and another mount for Gerd, who claimed he knew how to ride. He also picked twenty of his coolest-headed troops to accompany him.
Braeden told Destler what he was doing and asked him to stay behind with the bulk of the force. “Have your best scout follow me,” he said in a low voice. “And if I’m not back by sundown, you can attack the place and kill everyone in sight.”
He said louder so Gerd heard it, and noticed that he shuddered. Good.
Then he swung into the saddle and grinned at Gerd, “After you,” he said.
Elektra
Once the servants had done the hard work of clearing the snow, life around the palace went back to normal. Elektra was more sure of herself, and even dared to schedule two days per week to receive petitioners. To her relief, the problems brought before her during the first few sessions were relatively petty, and she was able to resolve them herself.
Even though Isenwald had a functioning judiciary system, people had to right to appeal to the ruler if they didn’t like the magistrate’s decision. Once Elektra got over being intimidated by those who thought they might pressure her into seeing things their way, she could think more clearly about each case.
She learned that with few exceptions, the decisions made by the magistrates were the correct ones, and she routinely upheld those. There were only two who might have been corrupt or incompetent, and Elektra resolved to ask Braeden to see to their removal when he returned. She didn’t know when that would be. He’d sent her a brief message after the storm, telling her he was hot on Princess Gwynneth’s trail and would return as soon as he had her.
Elektra would welcome his return, but she was managing better than ever before. It was so annoying, but she looked forward to Braeden seeing her progress, secretly hoping he’d be proud of the confidence she’d gained.
Now she immersed herself in more real work, she was less plagued by courtiers, most of whom served no function she knew of, except for lounging about the palace all day. That was another thing Braeden might help her with. Anyone who didn’t have a real job helpful to the ruler could go.
She wondered who else might help her make that decision, then considered Major Silberg. He didn’t interact with anyone at the palace, but never missed a thing. He could offer good advice as to personalities and who was likely to be a troublemaker.
Elektra rose from her desk and sent for him. It was mid-afternoon and the warmest time of the day, which wasn’t saying much. Still, if she bundled up, Elektra liked to walk in the garden. The paths had been cleared of snow, though the rest still looked like a white fairyland, sparkling under a bright sun for at least a few hours each day.
Major Silberg was used to her routine, and arrived in the library with his cloak already over his arm.
Elektra smiled at him. “I have a few questions for you about the people here. I wondered if you might tell me things you’ve noticed during a little walk. I doubt it’ll be long, since it’s so cold.”
“All right.” Silberg helped her into her cloak, and fetched a fur hat and muffler, lying on a nearby bench.
Once they went out through the tall glass doors and walked on the path, frozen stones crunching under their feet, Elektra said, “I wish to clean house here in the palace when Count Terris returns. It seems far too many people have nothing to do but cause me trouble.”
“Very true. I’ve noticed a shocking amount of idleness in this court.”
Elektra had already learned that Estenorians—at least ones like Silberg—valued industry above all. She doubted Lennart tolerated any wastrels in his court.
“I hoped you might tell me who ought to go. We can discuss it all with Count Terris when he returns.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” Silberg seemed more eager than usual to talk. “Let’s start with your ladies. The Baroness Kerstin is the worst. If you get rid of her, it’s possible the others will fall in line.”
“But the baroness is the friendliest of all of them,” Elektra protested. In fact, in recent weeks Elektra hoped there might be a friendship developing between them.
“Of course she is.” Silberg shook his head, no doubt deploring Elektra’s naivete. “She’s friendly enough to your face, but the moment your back is turned, she stirs up trouble. I can’t always understand what she says, but when I do it isn’t good. She assumes I can’t speak Olvisyan, so she’s let her guard down a few times.”
“What sorts of things does she say?” Elektra asked, her mouth dry. She wondered if she’d ever be good at judging character, or if she’d have to assume everyone was untrustworthy for the rest of her life. It was a bleak prospect.
“Nothing to trouble you with.” Silberg looked uncomfortable. “She tries to make sure none of the others try to get close to you.”
“Perhaps she’s jealous,” Elektra ventured.
“I doubt that.” Silberg shook his head. “I’ll give you details if you insist, but it might help if you heard it for yourself.”
“How can I do that?” They had reached the end of the walk and turned back toward the palace in unison. It was too cold to take another turn.
“There are a few listening posts in the palace.” Silberg’s tone was dry. “As your head of security, I’ve investigated them all. I’m sure we can find a good one for you to eavesdrop on your ladies one of these days.”
“I hate to do that.” Elektra feared what she might hear. Perhaps she should just get rid of all of them.
“It’s up to you,” the major said, then stopped in his tracks. “What in the name of the Father—” he broke off, staring at the palace. Someone was coming down the stairs from the back entrance facing the garden. A great many someones.
“Perhaps Count Terris is back?” Elektra began.
“No,” Silberg said. “It’s not him. Come, Your Grace, let’s go back toward the summer house.”
“But why?” Elektra asked, looking over her shoulder as Silberg dragged her down the path. They reached the summer house, but the gate was locked.
“We should just see who it is,” Elektra said. How bad could it be?
By the time she turned back, the people had drawn much closer. In front was a tall woman with white hair, wearing a red cloak, followed by at least a hundred soldiers.
Elektra froze when she recognized her mother.
Gwynneth
Light flooded the tiny bedroom, and Gwynneth sat up, squinting against it. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Florian stood in the doorway, holding a lamp. “Get dressed and come quickly. We’re meeting with your friend Count Terris today.”
“What?” Gwynneth jumped out of bed, although she wasn’t dressed. “Where?”
“I’ll tell you on the way. We’ll meet him at the cabin you already know, just to talk.”
Gwynneth stood in the middle of the room shivering in her nightdress, but grabbed a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. “He won’t leave without me.”
“He must. I’ll explain on the way.”
Sometimes she hated Florian’s noble status because it made him arrogant and difficult to intimidate.
“I’ll wake the children,” she said.
“No. They’ll stay here. I don’t want Terris attempting a rescue.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t y
ou?”
“I’m trying. Now get dressed and meet me in front. I’ll get the horses hitched to the sledge.”
Gwynneth scrambled quietly into her clothes. If Devyn woke up, he’d put up a fuss at being left behind. It was pitch black in here with the lamp gone, but she had flung her dress over the foot of the bed, so it was easy enough to get back into it. She was also glad of the woolen stockings Princess Edda had insisted upon her taking. They weren’t pretty, but a great deal warmer than silk. She’d left her cloak in the front room, so grabbed it on the way.
Once she stepped outside, it was a little lighter. The moon was only a thin crescent, but the snow spread its light around and stars blanketed the sky overhead.
It had to be hours before dawn, but Gwynneth’s eyes quickly grew accustomed to the dark. Florian tucked her into the sledge, putting a few hot bricks at her feet.
“Magda insisted,” he said with a smile.
Then he jumped onto the driver’s seat and they were off. They traveled in silence for a while, Gwynneth leaning her head back to look at the stars. She felt strangely calm, in spite of the uncertain situation.
Maybe because she knew Braeden was nearby and that together they’d figure out a way to free her and the children. And maybe because she knew by now that Florian was no crazed fanatic. In spite of his odd political ideas, he could be reasoned with.
Sighing, because she hated to break the silence, Gwynneth finally spoke up. “How is it you will meet with Count Terris?”
“He and a large party, most of them your former guards, stayed in a nearby village through the storm, throwing around money for information. Unsurprisingly, they got it. One of the village boys with friends in the revolt got in touch, saying that Count Terris was looking for you, and offering amnesty to any rebels who helped free you. It seemed smart to talk with him before things got out of hand.”
“Very smart.” Gwynneth leaned back with a satisfied smile. She should have known she could rely on Braeden to waste no time in looking for her, and to be clever in his approach. But she still wanted Princess Viviane dead, and hoped she might convince Braeden to help.
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 46