The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Linette was happy to agree. When they reached the path leading to the pavilion, Gwynneth paused at a stone bench in a small grove of aspen. The leaves shivered at the slightest breeze. “Can you stay here? I’d like to be undisturbed for a while.”

  Linette arranged herself on the bench. She would be happy if someone came by, just so they could appreciate how much she enhanced the scene.

  Gwynneth sank into the cushions and closed her eyes. The rushing of the brook was the best music, and the air smelled cool and fresh. She thought she might doze off when she heard footsteps and someone sat down next to her. Her eyes flew open.

  “I told you no one—” She stopped when she realized it was Arian again. “Linette wasn’t supposed to let anyone in here,” she said weakly.

  “I told her you meant anyone except me. Why else would you want to remain undisturbed?”

  “Because I’d like time alone? Is that so hard to understand?”

  “Why would you want to be alone when you are lonely? It makes no sense.”

  “It makes more sense than the alternative.” Gwynneth tried to move away, but the fabric of the cushions clung to her dress.

  “I can make you forget all that.”

  “I doubt it. You don’t know how guilty I’d feel.”

  “Is that what’s stopping you? Guilt?”

  “What’s stopping me is that I love my husband and don’t want to betray him.”

  “He can’t feel betrayed if he never knows.” Arian moved closer, and she froze. “There’s no reason he should ever know.”

  “Linette is not my most discreet lady-in-waiting.”

  “She won’t say a word since she’s busy having an adventure of her own right now. I’m sure she’ll see the sense in keeping quiet.”

  “Oh,” Gwynneth said in a small voice. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

  “I like to be prepared.” He grinned. “Also, I like your husband and don’t wish to see him hurt. It’s unfortunate I would fall in love with his wife, but I have no control over that.”

  “How convenient for you.” Gwynneth’s breath came fast now.

  He moved closer. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” he murmured in her ear. “Your husband is gone, and it’s hard for you to be alone. I won’t leave you alone.”

  Gwynneth backed away. “Only until its time for you to join Kendryk.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll stay.”

  “And miss out on a battle? That’s hard to believe.”

  “I enjoy fighting, true, but I’d rather be with you.”

  Suddenly he was right there, his breath in her hair and his lips brushing her cheek. Against her will, she leaned into him, trembling. Her head turned just far enough so her lips met his. She thought he would be rougher and more insistent, but he let her take the lead.

  She hadn’t expected to like kissing him so much. But then, she’d never kissed anyone besides Kendryk. The danger and the wrongness of it was thrilling. Fear of being caught niggled at the back of her mind, but stayed there. She stopped for breath, and he turned the tables. He pushed her back onto the cushions while expertly unfastening her dress. She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words caught in her throat.

  It was as though he sensed that tiny hesitation. He stopped, looking down at her, eyes liquid pools of black. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to,” she said, reaching for him.

  Braeden

  Janna moving into his tent was at least as awkward for him as it was for her. Senta arranged everything. Since Braeden had a large tent, there was room to curtain off a corner and put Janna’s cot there.

  “I hate to be such a bother.” Janna seemed distressed at his servant Gergo’s grumbling.

  “You’re not,” Braeden said. “He’s bothered by everything and you aren’t taking up any space at all.” It was true. She had nothing to call her own except for two dresses handed down from Cara Torresia.

  The awkwardness soon went, too. Janna was so quiet he could hardly tell she was there. She joined the rest of them at meals, but was always in her corner by the time he went to bed. The tent was becoming tidier too, with his things put away instead of strewn across the floor, as they usually were.

  He noticed something else. One morning, he got dressed and went out to the cook-fire. Janna was helping dish out porridge and pour coffee. When she brought him a bowl, he pulled her onto a bench next to him. “You don’t have to mend my shirts, you know. Gergo’s good enough with a needle.”

  She flushed. “He might be, but he leaves them too long and the holes just get bigger. It’s the least I can do. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. And your work is much neater than that dolt’s.” He grinned at her. “Just don’t feel you have to.”

  “I like doing it.” She smiled shyly. “I’m not good at a lot of things, but at least I can sew.”

  He smiled back. “Now, go get Zoltan saddled. There’s a long day of riding ahead if we’re to make the empress’s camp by nightfall.”

  Braeden attended a council of war the next morning. Set up in Countess Rabatin’s library, Teodora gathered what generals she could. It still wasn’t many, but with Demario Barela present, her odds looked much better.

  The Maladene general was happy to see Braeden. “Your hussars are famous,” he said, his ugly, engaging face creased with smiles. “It will be a great pleasure to fight with them.”

  Barela wanted to know the exact numbers Korma had and spent a good two hours poring over a map of Atlona and its fortifications. Then he marked out positions.

  With somewhere between five and six thousand men, Korma had an impressive force, but its quality was mixed. His own army was small, and he relied upon what the Marjatyan nobility could muster. There was also a hussar regiment, seasoned veterans of the war with Zastwar, but they were the only troops of professional quality. “Korma has had time to drill his infantry,” Barela said, “But most are inexperienced in combat.”

  After making their plans, Teodora’s forces moved on Atlona. Besides Barela’s four thousand infantry, she’d scraped together another thousand from nearby estates. With the Sanova Hussars, they numbered just over five thousand. It wasn’t enough to outnumber Korma, but their better-trained troops might be able to surprise him.

  It was now mid-summer and warm, so traveling in full armor was not enjoyable. General Barela asked Braeden if he’d ride with him for a time, at the head of the Maladene troops. Though no older than Braeden, Barela had been fighting even longer, seeing his first combat at thirteen.

  “I was never good at anything else,” he smiled, though Braeden suspected that wasn’t altogether true, since women seemed to love him. “However,” he went on, “I have spent too much time marching back and forth between Maladena and Zeelund. There are many mountains to cross and sometimes fighting along the way. Each time can take many months, and I have done it fifteen times. I am tired of that area and happy to be somewhere new.”

  Braeden shrugged. “Fighting is the same, no matter where you are.”

  “Maybe true. But the landscape here is new and interesting. Zeelund and Floradias are so flat. Every siege is the same. Here there are many hills, rivers, and then the mountains around Atlona. It is very interesting. Having the empress involved is interesting too. My queen does not care for anything military and leaves it all to her commandant. What is the point of all this fighting if one’s sovereign does not care what happens on the field? I don’t understand it.” Barela shook his head as though he couldn’t fathom why Queen Beatryz didn’t find siege machinery and infantry tactics fascinating.

  “They don’t care about what happens on the field as long as you win.”

  “I suppose. Still, it pleases me that our beautiful empress is so interested in what we do.” He cast an admiring glance at Teodora, lightly armored and riding nearby on a white palfrey.

  “That’s because you don’t know her,” Braeden sai
d.

  Barela laughed. “Ah, you don’t like her. I understand. She is a challenging woman. Not always pleasant to be around. But, I like challenging women, and very few are as lovely as she.”

  He looked her way again, long enough to make Teodora look back. She gave him that intense stare she had, but he didn’t flinch and instead smiled that broad, charming smile of his that engulfed his whole face. Braeden wondered if the man knew what he was doing.

  When they were within a few leagues of Atlona, they made camp on the other side of a mountain ridge. It was possible that Korma had spotted them although Barela had been careful to watch for scouts and have them killed before they could report back. There was still a chance that a few had gotten through, so they couldn’t rely on the element of surprise.

  Barela sent scouts to get detailed reports of Korma’s positions, and asked Braeden, “Is there any way we can get a message to your troopers inside the city?”

  Braeden shook his head. “Place is shut up tight as a tick. But the hussars will come out when they hear Korma being attacked. I’m sure they’ll be eager for a good fight.”

  Barela seemed to consider that enough. “I hope they have not yet eaten their horses. We will push hard at Korma from the east but we cannot prevent him escaping down the other end of the valley.”

  The only way to get there was to cross a steep, snowy range of mountains. It was possible to do so, but would have taken the better part of a week. “We’ll have to watch our rear, in case Korma gets away and tries to attack after, but if this works, he will be in no condition.”

  Everyone turned in early that night because they would attack at daybreak. Janna was still up, helping Gergo polish Braeden’s armor and making sure all of his weapons were ready. She looked pale.

  “Are you all right?” Braeden asked.

  “You’ll be in danger, won’t you?”

  “No more than usual. I expect we’ll win. Barela knows what he’s doing.”

  “Yes, but you might be hurt, or killed.”

  “I’ve been fighting longer than you’ve been alive and never had more than a few scratches from time to time. Nothing to worry about.” He hid a smile as she tried to appear unconcerned. Truth be told, he didn’t mind having a girl worry about him. It hadn’t happened in a while.

  Gwynneth

  Gwynneth’s meetings with Arian went on for a week, then two; nearly became a routine. They never talked about when they’d next meet, but the weather continued hot and clear during the day, and Linette seemed as eager for their walks to the pavilion as she was. Avaron’s toothache continued, but Gwynneth counseled waiting for the surgeon until it got worse. Having a tooth pulled seemed very horrid.

  Every day she went to the pavilion intending to tell Arian this was their last meeting. She had hoped just the one time would be enough, but she felt half-crazed with desire. Was it because she and Kendryk had spent so little time together in the past months? But the reasons didn’t matter; it had to end.

  Arian couldn’t stay here after Faris’s arrival without arousing considerable suspicion. Besides, his cavalry was worth twice as much with him at the head of it and Kendryk needed every advantage. She had to end it now. But each time, the words wouldn’t come. They didn’t speak much anyway, and afterward her next thought was ‘just one more time.’

  She was in the library one morning when the footman announced Edric Maximus. Her heart pounded. Somehow, she was sure he knew. Or maybe she had a guilty conscience.

  “Why don’t you go walk in the garden,” she told Halvor and Linette, who left much too slowly. She closed the open doors with a bang, rattling the glass.

  “Please, be seated,” she said, giving Landrus a chilly smile.

  “I am sorry to trouble you again, Princess.” He lowered himself into a chair, clearly reluctant to speak.

  “Something tells me I’m about to be more sorry.” Her heart pounded in her throat.

  “So, I don’t have to tell you why I’m here,” he said as a statement rather than a question.

  “There’s no point in talking in circles.”

  “I suppose you’re wondering how I found out.”

  Gwynneth shrugged. Now that it was out, she could breathe again. “The servants here are friendly toward you. I suspected there might be at least one informant.”

  “It’s less that they are friendly toward me, but that they love your husband.”

  She flinched, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach. It was hard to breathe again. “I’ve tried to end it,” she finally managed. “I never meant to start so much as a flirtation. I have no excuse.” She lifted her head and looked at Landrus with some effort. He seemed sympathetic, which surprised her. She had expected a sermon on the damnation she was bringing on herself.

  “I realize this has been difficult for you, Princess. But an affair with someone like Orland is not the answer.”

  Tears started into her eyes. “I can’t bring myself to end it.”

  “You shall.” The steel had crept back into his voice. “I will give you three days. After that, you will leave here and take the children with you to Norovaea. You will be removed from temptation, safer as well. Who knows, you might prevail upon your father better in person.”

  “Leave? I can’t leave now. Kendryk needs me.”

  “He does. But if this is your idea of help…”

  That hurt even more and she had to bite her tongue until it bled to stop herself from whimpering. Until now, she’d been able to push the vileness of her actions to the back of her mind. Confronting the enormity of what she had done made her wish she could melt into the floor and disappear forever.

  Landrus went on. “If you don’t do this; if you aren’t on the Helvundala boat four mornings from now, I will write to Kendryk and tell him what is happening.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t want to. Far better it be over and you far away from temptation.”

  “Wouldn’t me leaving arouse suspicion?”

  “It doesn’t need to. Everyone knows you’re trying to get help from your father. Better to take the children since Kendryk isn’t here. It would be strange if you went without them.”

  The tears spilled over. Landrus was silent and let her cry. She couldn’t bear to look at him. It would have been easier if he’d looked stern and disapproving, but he appeared to pity her and that was much worse. When the sobs subsided, she wiped her eyes with the lacy end of her sleeve and said, “All right, I’ll end it. I know I must. But I won’t go. I can’t. Kendryk would see that as a betrayal.”

  “Isn’t that better than the alternative?”

  “He doesn’t have to know about that at all.”

  “I am not sure you can resist temptation as long as you stay here.”

  “I’ll shut myself in my room and say I’m ill.”

  “You’re never ill. No one would believe that.” Landrus shook his head. “No, you must go.” He leaned forward. “It seems harsh, but I know what I’m speaking of. Do you think you’re the first woman or man I’ve seen led astray? It’s all too common.”

  “I always thought I was better than that.” Gwynneth felt another sob rise in her throat.

  “That is the problem with pride.” Landrus was now in full priestly mode. “When we rely on ourselves, we always fail. You must pray to Ercos for strength, and to Vica for the wisdom to see your way. They will always give you what you need. Just because you are a princess, doesn’t mean you are less in need of their help.”

  She had to admit that was exactly what she’d always thought. It seemed she was wrong. “Very well, I will end it. But I won’t go. If my father isn’t moved by my letters, seeing me in person will be no better. And I must be here for Kendryk. It’s the only way I can make it up to him, even if he never knows.”

  Landrus regarded her silently, his eyes colder now. “Do that first. Once it’s done we can talk again.” He rose. “I’ll leave you with that, Princess. May the gods kee
p you.”

  Braeden

  Braeden was up before anyone else, except Barela. Dressed in mail and plain black leather, the general sat at a campfire and sipped something hot from a cup. Braeden got a bowl of porridge from the cook wagon and sat down across from him.

  “It’s good to be fighting again.” Barela smiled. “Sometimes I hate it, but when I have gone a few weeks with no action, I can’t think of anything I like better.”

  Braeden nodded by way of agreement. They sat in companionable silence as the camp awakened around them. Everyone was quiet, because they wanted to avoid any loud noises that might alert scouts in the area, but also because of the contemplative mood that struck many before a battle. A few soldiers prayed, and a small cluster of Maladene pikemen gathered at an impromptu altar holding a crude icon of Vica.

  Barela followed his gaze. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe all that.”

  “I don’t either. Gods that allow the things I’ve seen, I want nothing to do with.”

  “And yet we might soon fight about gods again.”

  “It seems so.” Braeden had spared little thought for Terragand, but he was sure that once Teodora had Atlona back, she would look north while she still had Barela at her disposal.

  “Foolishness, all of it,” Barela said. “And yet, you and I would have no work without this foolishness. Perhaps the gods really are looking after us.”

  Braeden smiled at the thought, then got up. Gergo and Janna helped him with his armor. He could tell Janna was doing her best to act as nonchalant as everyone else.

  There was a great deal of armor, and each piece had innumerable hooks and buckles. He started with a padded linen tunic and a shirt of mail. Over that went a heavy plate cuirass, thick enough to stop bullets. Several dents proved it had done just that. Then came smaller pieces like pauldrons, gorget and vambraces. Finally, he put on his helmet, leaving the visor up. Gergo fastened the wings on their tall frames to his belt, then Braeden sheathed his saber and holstered his pistols.