by Mary Weber
He runs a finger from the northern waterway across the green that’s edging Faelen’s western border. “It’s the ideal spot for Draewulf to accumulate and hide his wraiths, seeing as even the bolcranes will leave them alone.”
The slightest hint of a chill enters the room. Either at the reality that we’ll be fighting the dead—or at the fact that they’re so horrific even the beasts they’re partly made from will shirk them.
King Sedric rubs his chin and nods.
“But, sire, if I may—” The councilman nearest Sedric juts a hand out over the map. “I think the bigger concern is that we simply do not have the men needed, and the people we do have are weary of war.”
“Can we impose a draft like before?” someone asks from the back. “Force the people to at least give us their slaves to bulk up the ranks?”
I nearly choke on my tongue, and, as if in unison, the servants in the room freeze.
“Are you jesting?” the count says. “Their slaves won’t fight for Faelen. If anything they’re likely to fight against us.”
“And rightly so,” I mutter.
Every gaze in the room turns. “And what do you suggest?” the councilman asks.
“They’ll follow Nym,” Eogan says quietly.
I glance at him and frown. I don’t want to be the one to send them to their deaths.
His eyes soften at the corners. A shield maiden for your people . . . “Ask her to speak to them.”
“Actually, sire, it could work,” Rolf whispers to Sedric.
I glare at Eogan before turning to nod at Rolf and Sedric. “If you set up a track of speaking places for me, I could take a few soldiers and spread the word. If they respond to it, they’ll come. If not . . .” I refuse to look at the servants in the room.
“Then we’ve lost nothing but a bit of time,” Eogan says.
One by one the men begin uttering agreement.
“They do worship her,” Rolf says.
“If she can’t convince them, then we never could,” the count adds.
“However.” I lift my voice so it’s loud and firm, not taking my eyes off Sedric as I feel my bones shore up within me. “I’ll not be convincing them to join a draft. Because let’s face it—it won’t matter. They’ll be dead. But at least they’ll be dead right alongside you.”
I peer around at every face as I swear the slightest gasp is uttered. Holding them just long enough to make them drop their gazes. “Because that will be my promise to them. That when they show up to fight this war they never asked for, you’ll be fighting right there with them—not holed up in some room making choices with their lives. You’ll be on the field too.”
I look back to Sedric. “And when I ask the poor and enslaved to join you on that field, I’ll also be promising them their freedom. Whether they choose to fight or not.”
CHAPTER 18
I SWEAR IT’S LIKE A BLASTED BREEZE JUST WAFTED through with how loud and numerous the murmurs just became.
“She can’t do that, can she?”
“Set the slaves free?”
“She’ll crash our economy!”
“Your Highness—”
The reactions grow louder, taking over the atmosphere and my voice.
I stop talking and allow my skin to tingle with the weather as their words and tones roll off my back, much the way they used to at slave auctions when old men would haggle prices. The chattering builds quickly into an argument—except this time I can’t tell who’s on which side.
Until a hard chuckle echoes off the walls, causing the men to stall and turn.
“She’s offering you a plan that will avoid a civil war and is the only chance you have of saving your nation, let alone your economy.” Eogan scoffs. “Do you think the best weapon you have is not capable of being a voice of wisdom?”
“But to free them?” a councilman yells. “We’ll have their peasant owners in an uprising and they’ll refuse to fight! Better we call a draft.”
A rush of tension ripples down my arms as the outside air crackles loud enough for them to hear it, just like I can feel it. “King Sedric,” I say quietly. “Might I remind you of your word given to Colin and me at the Keep?” I can feel the heat in my face. In my blood. Daring him.
He opens his mouth. Shuts it. And, after a moment, tips his head to say that yes, he remembers.
“I’m assuming you still plan to honor that promise.”
“Is she threatening the king?” someone whispers.
“Silence.” Sedric’s voice rings across the space, squelching the rising mutterings going on around us.
Eogan is watching me. I can feel his eyes as Sedric nods my way. “I do.” Then looks up and around at the gathering. “We will go with Nym’s suggestion. And I will hear no more about it.”
He lifts a hand before the arguments can begin. “Now.” He turns back to me, and I drop my gaze to help him save face from the gawking expressions that claim insult against the woman who just put the king in his place. “Do you have an opinion on how to bring unity among the peasants and their slaves in this plan of yours?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I’ll have one by the time I get to the first township.”
Sedric nods and taps on the map to draw attention where it’s due. “Then let us commence with discussing Draewulf’s next move.”
“It might help to know exactly how to defeat him,” Kenan suggests.
Rolf moves a pawn on the map. “I thought that’s what we’re discussing.”
“I believe he means we need to speak with Lady Isobel,” King Sedric says.
“Use the Luminescents to ask her,” I say.
“Or we could torture her,” one of the councilman growls.
“She’s used to pain. It would take too long.” Eogan’s tone is matter-of-fact, but for whatever reason something in it snags at me. At the space in me that resents her and loathes her capabilities.
She’s used to pain? The thought gives me pause—what sort of life has she been through that she could be familiar with such a thing?
Eogan catches me staring at him. I look away, but even so, the hint of compassion seeps up through my bones into my chest. Perhaps there’s a reason Eogan used to love her beyond the fact it was the only emotion allowed him.
Sedric turns to his Captain of the Guard. “Have your men finished debriefing Lord Myles and the rest?”
“They have. The Lord Protectorate and others are now in the upper Northern Wing under guard, sire.”
“Good. Bring us the Cashlins.” Sedric looks at me.
I nod. “May I also request Rolf bring in Kenan’s son, Kel, Your Highness? He’s one of the airship captains and familiar with most of the passengers who came with us.”
Kenan looks over at me as Sedric nods to Rolf. “Agreed.”
When the War Chamber door shuts behind Rolf and his men, the room explodes in conversation. I listen and attempt to keep my suddenly drooping eyelids propped up.
Minutes later the chamber door opens again, and Rolf and his guard unit are ushering in the Cashlin guard and the two Luminescents along with Kel—all with hands tied beneath their backs.
“Kel.” I reach out a hand and the guards release him to me.
“Ah, the young captain, I presume,” Sedric says, and it’s a credit to his years at High Court that his face shows not even a hint of shock at Kel’s size or obvious age.
“One of them.” Kel peers over at his father and Eogan. His hand tightens around mine.
“Welcome, then. An
d would you mind sticking around here a bit to share what you know with us? I think you’d be most valuable.”
The little boy’s face fills with pride and seriousness. “Would be my honor, sire.”
“Very good.” Sedric looks toward the Cashlin guard and two Luminescents.
“I am Mia and this is Mel.” The shorter of the two women steps forward. They point to the guard, Sir Doesn’t Matter. “This is Gilford. We were sent on behalf of our people to be deeper eyes and ears for you. My only regret is we could not send more.”
“I’m grateful for whatever you can give us.”
Mel nods.
I smirk at the Cashlin. Gilford, huh?
Eogan looks to the king, then to the other council members. “Your Highness, I believe if we can give Nym enough time and distract the rest of his army, she will be able to provide another advantage.”
I will? “How?” I want to ask, but this is clearly not the time to instill doubt. Instead, I swallow and my hands curled against my sides begin to shake. I clench them until there’s the slightest rumble of thunder in the distance that gives me away. The entire table turns toward me, but I just force a weak smile and say nothing as Kel nuzzles his shoulder against me. His eyelids are heavy too. Poor boy.
“She can bring forth the Uathúils—if there are any others hiding in Faelen,” Eogan says.
“Are there more?” Sedric runs a hand over his boyish chin, only half-hiding his look of alarm.
I wither Eogan a look. “Supposedly.”
“I see.” Sedric follows my gaze. “I assume you know where they’re hiding out, Your Highness?”
“Your Majesty,” a councilman in the back says. “I must protest allowing this man to run around Faelen searching for Uathúils.”
“Allow me to ease your mind, then, that I have no intention of going to find them. They’ve supposedly already been called forth.” Eogan nods toward me. “They will come when it’s time. As for me, once we are through here tonight, my attentions need to be placed upon Bron.”
“You think Draewulf’s forces in Bron will attack us from the southern border in airships?”
“Doubtful. However—”
“And what of your forces under siege in Bron?”
“I’ll be honest.” Eogan peers at Sedric. “My commitment is to help Faelen win this war, because if it doesn’t, the rest of the world will fall. However, I need to return home long enough to set events in motion that will assure the survival of my people as well.”
I veer my gaze to him. He’s returning home?
“Of course, I will need Your Highness’s permission to do such a thing.”
“Given,” Sedric says. “Although the quicker you return, the better. For all our sakes.”
“Agreed. I will leave as soon as we’ve finalized a plan.”
I don’t even realize I’m shaking my head until Kel pokes me in the side. My chest is suddenly sinking, as if there’s not enough blood and tissue and sinew to hold the bones in place. Like a birdcage breaking because we did not just go through every impossible thing the past few days to have Eogan head straight back to the heart of the plague and army and death.
“Then it’s decided,” Sedric says. “Rolf, please take our Luminescent friends to begin their interview with Lady Isobel. The war generals and I will stay here. Tannin, when you’ve seen to the lady Nym’s needs, please begin preparations for an Assembly here this evening—considering it’s already morning—where we will make an announcement regarding what’s been decided here.”
He raises his voice. “At that time, I will ask everyone to join up with our efforts, especially those from the High Court, so Nym may use such as encouragement for the lower castes. We will reconvene later.”
A few of the councilmen begin shuffling out. Others remain. They begin talking, but I’m not listening. Because all I can see are Eogan’s eyes swerving onto mine with a firm expression that says he needs me to understand.
I give a slight shake of my head, swallow, and look back to King Sedric so my gaze won’t burn a chasm in his head.
Because I understand only all too well.
I understand that he’s signing his own death sentence if the wraiths there figure out who he is before the final attack has even begun.
CHAPTER 19
TAKE ME TO SEE HIM.”
“Miss, I don’t—”
“Is he in the same room as last week?” I continue walking as Tannin hurries to keep up.
“Miss, I know you’ve spent time with Bron’s king, but considering he’s here in a rather different capacity than your trainer now, taking you to his chambers lies outside protocol and I can assure you King Sedric will not approve. Not to mention that area is under tight security.”
“Do I appear to care? Because I’m quite certain I don’t. I need to speak with Eogan before he makes further plans, so you will please take me there now.”
He begins to steer off toward a set of stairs. “Perhaps a hot bath would be better at this time, and while you do so, I’d be happy to inquire for—”
I flip around and allow a spark of friction to fill the hallway’s air. He swallows.
“You may stay to ensure I return with you,” I say, recalling last week when I promised something similar only to slip onto the ship and leave for Bron. “But I will speak to him immediately.”
His face goes tight, but after a moment he nods. “I will stand directly outside the door.”
“And I’ll be grateful for it.” My tone softens. “Thank you, Tannin.”
He sniffs and shakes his head, then proceeds to turn us down two different corridors until we reach the same hallway I stood in last week that leads to Eogan’s room. I falter a second as the air drains from my chest at the recollection of what he was in that room. At what he almost became.
The past ten days have been a bleeding nightmare.
I bite back the bile itching up my throat and stare stiff-like at Eogan’s guards. “I’d like to speak with the king.”
“He’s not seeing anyone—”
A crash of thunder explodes so loud above the Castle even I jump. I lean in. “I don’t care what he’s not doing—let me in there.”
“She’s obtained a special request,” Tannin says, not looking at me.
I file away a reminder that I owe him and his family something grand for such a smooth lie. Perhaps a bucket-case of dolls.
The larger guard hesitates. “We were not informed of such a request.”
“Where is Kenan?” I demand, looking around. “Perhaps we should rouse him from—”
The guard knocks on the door, murmuring something about this being a wholly inappropriate time. I don’t wait for a reply from within. I merely lean forward and pound on the door myself, then push it open and enter. “Eogan, I . . .”
Oh.
He’s standing beside a water basin, pulling a drying cloth around himself.
His eyes widen a second before sparking with amused interest as he ties the cloth around his waist and legs. “May I help you?”
Behind me the door slowly swings shut. Did I push it or did one of the guards pull it? I don’t know. I—
He lifts a brow and runs a hand over the back of his neck while his chest stares back at me. “I’m waiting to hear about the fire.”
I frown.
“I assume that is why you’ve interrupted my bath, yes? The Castle’s burning down? Although”—he waves a hand toward me—“you don’t look much in a hurry.”
I clear my throat and try to gather toge
ther the collapsing air in my lungs and force it into a coherent sentence. Or even a thought. Yes, think a thought, Nym. And for bleeding’s sake look away.
“My face is up here.”
I flick my gaze up to find a hint of entertainment in his. I scowl as his brow goes up and a funny look emerges in his eyes even as his jaw clenches.
I peel my gaze away and drop it to the floor, firming it once I remember why I’m standing in a half-naked man’s room. “I came to ask why in bracken you’re so willing to toss your life to hulls.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re going back to Bron.”
“If I don’t, my people will die either from plague or by the magic creating those wraiths. I have to give them the truth and a chance.”
“And that justifies you going back? If you do you’re as good as dead, either from your own people or from the wraiths when they discover you’re no longer Draewulf.”
“So you’d ask me to sacrifice my own people?” His voice has a touch of exasperation. Enough so that I glance up at his face.
“On the roof Myles and I heard Draewulf and Isobel say they are the ones whose magic can turn people to wraiths. I don’t believe it can be done without them. Besides, he’s coming for us now, not your people.”
His expression flashes disgust. “I’m quite aware he created more last week in Bron—while using my body, thank you. But if anything, him not being there gives my people a fighting chance right now. And whether they’re directly in harm’s way at this moment or not, my people still need to be given the truth and courage to fight back against the beasts that have surrounded them.”
“Blast it all, Eogan, can’t you simply wait? At least until this war is fought? Because for all you know we won’t win—and then it won’t matter what in hulls you fix in Bron!”