Braeden
“Now this is interesting.” Prince Novitny handed Braeden a sheet with some fancy writing on it. “We’re all invited to the palace for a feast before we go. Those with wives should bring ‘em. But you’ll notice at the bottom, that bit of chicken scratch? That’s Teodora herself, requesting you bring your girl.”
“I don’t have a girl,” Braeden said, then remembered Janna’s corner of his tent.
The prince’s eyes twinkled. “No one else knows that. Peculiar set-up if you ask me. The least the girl could do is repay your kindness with….”
“We don’t have that kind of arrangement.” Braeden had to admit he was a little sorry they didn’t.
“You surprise me.” Novitny turned and walked between tents to the hussar’s camp. “Sure, she’s not your usual type, but that’s a good thing, considering your history.”
“True, I like women with more to ‘em. More personality, I mean,” Braeden added.
Novitny laughed. “She’s on the scrawny side true, but coming along nicely, the way Senta’s feeding her. And it won’t hurt you to have someone sweet who makes you happy rather than causing nothing but trouble.”
“I don’t mind trouble.” Braeden remembered the fiery blonde he’d found in Briansk and lost in Cesiano.
“Trouble can be fun. But at your age, you should consider settling down, and this one looks right for that.”
Franca had come up next to Braeden and rolled her eyes. “Do you two ever talk of anything besides women?”
“All the time,” Novitny said. “In fact, we talk about horses more than anything.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” Franca said.
“That’s because you like talking about horses, but not about women. Time always goes by slow if the talk is boring to you,” Braeden said.
“I can’t say I approve of this Janna person.”
“Why not?” Braeden wondered.
“There’s no saying what she’s up to. Isn’t it strange you found her the way you did?”
“Not really. There are refugees everywhere right now.”
“She was awful far from home. I can’t help wondering if she’s a rebel come to infiltrate us.”
Braeden struggled for a blank expression while Novitny roared with laughter. “Her? She couldn’t look less like a rebel if she tried.”
“See? Perfect spy material. Don’t tell me you’re taking her to the empress’s banquet.”
“Seems I have to,” Braeden said. “Though if you wanted, you might come instead. Her Highness would never know.”
“I’d have to wear a dress, wouldn’t I?” Franca asked fearfully.
“Something with lace, most like. And it would be best if it were pink.” Braeden somehow kept a straight face.
Franca’s turned pale. “Oh sir, not pink. I’d go if you ordered me to, but it would be a dreadful hardship for me.”
“I know.” Braeden didn’t dare meet Novitny’s eye. “But if you’re so worried about Janna assassinating the empress, you should do your part to prevent it.”
“She couldn’t assassinate anyone.” Franca tossed her head. “She’s afraid of everything, even me. When I asked her if she wanted to race Zoltan against my new charger, she nearly died of fright. I’ve never seen such a ninny.”
“Not a good spy then.” Novitny managed a straight face too, as Franca sniffed and walked on. “It’s true, she seems easily frightened. You think meeting Her Highness would do her in?”
“I hope not. Though she has reason to be frightened. She’s had some dreadful things happen to her.”
“I’m not surprised. Soft little thing like that out on the road by herself.”
“She wasn’t always by herself. She had two children. Seems both of them are dead now.”
“Terrible shame. All the more reason to make her happy and give her more babies.”
“I’m not sure it works like that,” Braeden said, alarmed at the prospect of a squalling infant in his tent.
“It does,” Novitny said cheerfully. “Women like her, all they want is to have babies. If they don’t, they’ll mother you instead. Just wait. If it hasn’t happened already, it will.”
Braeden was silent, thinking of his clean and mended shirts. He wondered if he’d gone soft in the head, though the softness was more in the chest area. It only happened when he looked at her. Or thought about her. It was no use. A girl like Janna was too fine for him. He should speak to Senta about finding her a nice Atlona merchant to marry. But the notion filled him with such misery, he put it out of his mind and resolved never to think of it again.
Gwynneth
Gwynneth took the message with a mixture of excitement and worry. What if Kendryk had met with an accident? She’d never seen him so upset. It was a short note from Edric Maximus saying that Kendryk was spending the night at his palace and would return to Birkenhof in the morning. Dropping the note on the floor, she dismissed the messenger. Though she was glad Kendryk was all right, she wished he were here instead. She needed to talk, to explain, to apologize; anything to take away that awful, wounded expression in his eyes.
After sending her ladies to bed, Gwynneth spent the night pacing on the terrace in front of the library doors. It was a warm perfumed night, one she and Kendryk would have loved walking in. She wondered if they’d ever enjoy that kind of companionship again. At some point, she fell into a chair and an exhausted sleep. Once sunlight came through the open windows she made her way to her dressing room to repair her ravaged looks. She put on her plainest dress and arranged her hair simply. This was not the time to appear as a fashionable flirt.
She picked at a breakfast tray and listened for any sign of Kendryk. He would have to speak to her sometime. There was a knot in her stomach and her hands trembled. It might have been hunger or lack of sleep, but she knew better. Terror at what Kendryk might do gnawed at her. Until yesterday, she had only feared hurting him, but his anger was unexpected. Now she worried that he might tell her to leave and never come back. And there would be no protesting because she deserved it. She chewed on a nail while walking back and forth to the window.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door between her dressing room and their bedroom opened. She jumped up. It was Kendryk, and he didn’t appear to have slept any better than she had. She wanted to run to him and fling her arms around his neck, but stopped short at his expression. His jaw was set and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. She noticed pain in his eyes, the expression she hated more than anything, but she didn’t know how to make him understand that she was hurting too.
“Might we speak for a moment?” Kendryk asked, far too formally. “I won’t be long.”
She sat down, her heart in her mouth. He sat across from her at a slight angle, still avoiding her gaze.
“I just spoke with Ossian Schurtz. It seemed better that I not speak with Arian at all. I gave him a formal decree of banishment, to pass on. It applies to Arian alone though I expect his men will follow him. He has until nightfall tomorrow to quit Terragand, or be considered an outlaw.”
Gwynneth wanted to protest, but feared Kendryk would take it the wrong way. She realized now she didn’t care for Arian Orland, and never had, but she worried at Kendryk’s chances without his cavalry.
As always, Kendryk read her thoughts. “We don’t need him. He would help, but Faris will bring enough troops to face Teodora.”
Perhaps he would consider banishing her lover punishment enough. He probably assumed she cared for him a great deal.
Kendryk swallowed and bit his lip. “Now, as to you,” he said, his voice shaking a bit.
Gwynneth looked at her hands, twisting a handkerchief in her lap. When she looked up, Kendryk was staring somewhere over her head. He sighed heavily. “It’s best if you leave.”
“Oh, no,” Gwynneth whispered. “Not forever, please,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I can’t say, Gwynneth.” He sounded so hard and cold, like a stranger. “At this
moment, I never want to see you again. Edric Maximus tells me I might not always feel that way, and I don’t want to deprive the children of their mother. I can’t be certain how long it will be.”
The blood roared in her ears and for a moment, she thought she might faint. That Kendryk, her husband, the only man she’d ever loved, could sit across from her and say these words was too much to bear. Gwynneth thought she would cry, but the grief welling up inside her was dammed up by something that wouldn’t break.
“You can go to your father,” Kendryk said. “We’ll tell everyone you want to lobby for his support in person. We needn’t tell anyone the real reason, though I’m sure everyone will suspect. I think it’s best the children stay here. If it appears that they will be in any real danger, I’ll send them after you.”
She concentrated on his fingers, drumming on his knee. He was right; the children should stay close to their father. Kendryk was the better parent anyway. That she’d never been an interested mother hadn’t bothered her before, but now it served to compound her failings as a wife.
“I don’t want to go.” Her throat was so tight she could hardly force any sound out.
“That has no bearing on the matter. I’m ordering you to go.”
The coldness of his voice frightened her. She wondered what it was costing him to be so hard and calm. If it was costing him anything.
When she raised her eyes he was still not looking at her. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I hope so. Right now I’m confused and angry and shocked. It’s very hard to think straight.”
“Perhaps we should wait a few days before I go. Perhaps you’ll change your …”
“No.” His voice was harsh. “You’re going today. I can’t even begin to feel better if you’re here.” He stood. “Get your things packed. I’m picking an escort that will go with you to the boat when it comes. You should be able to reach Kaltental in time to catch the next ship to Norovaea. You will see you father and brothers within the week. That should make you happy.” He turned on his heel and left.
Gwynneth found it hard to contain her shock. This Kendryk was a stranger to her. She wondered what Landrus had said to him to make him so angry. Probably that she’d thrown herself at Arian like a common whore and would pine after him forever. She wondered if there was any way she might persuade him otherwise, but there seemed to be no way to engage him in conversation. If only he would grant her a few more days! He must soften at some point.
She called Avaron and Linette. “Please tell my maids to pack my things. Write to your families and tell them we are going to Norovaea for a time. Prince Kendryk and I have decided that it’s best I go speak with my father in person.” The lie was ridiculous because these two had all but conspired with her, but it was important to keep up appearances.
Linette burst into tears, no doubt because she’d be leaving her Maladene lover behind.
“Stop it,” Gwynneth said a bit too harshly. “Orland and his cuirassiers are leaving today. Best to send a note down to the camp with your goodbyes.”
She waited to visit the children until it was closer to time. That way she’d be gone before they realized what was happening. She packed little because she had no intention of spending much time away from Birkenhof. She wasn’t sure how, but she would return. In the worst case, she’d reach Norovaea and ask her brothers to help her get back. They would, she was certain of it.
She put on her newest riding dress, so Kendryk would remember her looking pretty instead of her worn and tear-stained face.
When she said goodbye to the children, Maryna cried because she wanted to come and Devyn cried because his sister did. Baby Andres grabbed at her hair.
She went to the foot of the stairs waiting for Kendryk, but only Merton appeared. “We are ready to go, Your Grace. Everyone’s gathered in the courtyard.”
Gwynneth preceded him out, but she didn’t see Kendryk. “Where is the prince?” she asked as casually as she could manage while she mounted her horse.
Merton’s eyes were full of sympathy. “He sends his apologies, but wasn’t able to get away. He will write to you soon.”
She nodded because she couldn’t speak. It was beyond possibility that Kendryk wouldn’t say goodbye. What if she never saw him again? Thankfully, Merton gave her horse a push, so she didn’t have to do anything.
At the end of the drive, she looked back at the palace. No one stood in front of it and the windows stared at her like empty eyes.
Kendryk
Kendryk waited until he received the message that Gwynneth and her escort had boarded the boat. A small riverboat, it would meet a larger seafaring vessel at the port of Kaltental. He hoped she would be safe. Kaltental was the domain of Arian Orland’s father, and he didn’t know what the duke had heard of the situation. Gwynneth was traveling without fanfare, so with any luck, she would come and go unnoticed.
He needed to talk to the children before they went to sleep, but his limbs were so heavy, he could hardly make himself move. At his desk, he pushed papers around and stared at the tray of food someone had brought without touching it. The house was silent, as though someone had died. Not someone, Kendryk thought. Something, My marriage.
He tried to pull himself together. No matter what had passed between him and Gwynneth, someone had to take care of the children. Since he was leaving soon, he would have to make those arrangements. When the shadows covered the wood paneling of his study wall, he forced himself to stand and go up the stairs. He felt like he was a hundred years old.
The children had just come out of their baths and the nurse was tucking Andres into bed. Kendryk kissed his forehead and turned to the other two.
“Why did Mama go away?” Maryna asked.
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t understand.”
“She has to go talk to your Grandpapa about some important things.”
“She should take me,” Maryna said. “I am good at talking.”
“Yes, you are.” Kendryk sat on the floor and pulled her into his lap. “But they have to talk about grownup things and you would be bored.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not a grownup.”
“I’m big enough. I can help.”
“I need you to help me here. Come here Devyn,” he said, pulling the little boy, just released by the nurse, onto his other knee. “I have to go away too.”
“Again?” Maryna’s eyes filled with tears.
“Again. This time I might have to go fight.”
“I can fight.” Devyn’s chubby face was serious.
“He can,” Maryna said. “He can almost beat me with his toy sword and he’s very strong.”
“That’s good. Someday you’ll get a chance, I’m sure. But in the meantime, I need both of you to take care of things here for me.”
“I will watch over the boys,” Maryna said.
“What about me?” Devyn pouted. Kendryk knew he hated it when Maryna bossed him.
“Will you look after the horses?” Kendryk asked. “I will have to leave some behind. You can visit them every day, all right?”
Devyn nodded happily.
Kendryk sighed and kissed each of them on the tops of their fluffy heads. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”
Tears prickled against his eyelids as the children clung to him, but he screwed his eyes shut. He helped the nurse tuck them in, then took her into the nearby kitchen to give her more instructions. “If you need anything, or have any problems, send for Edric Maximus.”
“How long will the princess be away?” she asked. “It’s not my place, but I can’t bear to see Your Grace looking so unhappy. It’s not right.”
“A lot of things are not right. I don’t know how long the princess will be gone. But no matter what happens, I want the children to see her as often as possible.”
The nurse nodded, tears in her eyes. She’d been Kendryk’s nurse, and when he
was a little boy, he’d never hesitated to run to her when hurt or upset. He would have loved to cry into her shoulder right now, but he wasn’t that little boy anymore. He still loved her though, and pulled her close, surprising her, and kissed her forehead.
“Take care of them for me,” he said, then turned and left the room before he lost all control.
He made his way back downstairs, doing his best to pull himself together. He still had a few letters to write. To his surprise, when he got back to his study, Landrus was waiting for him.
“I hope I’m not intruding. They said you’d be back down here soon.”
“Not at all.” Kendryk was pleased to see the only person he could talk to right now. “I was putting the children to bed.” He sat down behind his desk. “It’s impossible to make them understand any of this, even the half-truth we’re telling everyone. All they know is that they’re being left behind.”
“It’s difficult. But I’m sure you are doing the right thing. Was the princess very upset?”
“Yes. I couldn’t meet her eyes and she said little, which is unusual for her. Surprisingly, she went without protesting more.”
“I’m sure she sees the wisdom in it. It will be easier for you to heal without her close by, and the sooner you heal, the sooner she might find forgiveness.”
“That word. I don’t know if I can. Ever.”
“Perhaps not. Though it would be unlike you. Still, it needs time. You will miss her, and there’s no question she is very contrite. As awful as her deed was, Orland’s was worse. He took advantage of her situation. She’s been unhappy for some time, and I’m at least partly to blame.”
“How can you be responsible for that?”
“I took so much of your time and often advised you against what she did. She felt neglected. Once that’s happened, it’s easy for someone like Orland to move in. Even the most virtuous woman, when unhappy in that way, can be susceptible.”
“So it’s my fault. For neglecting her and for trusting Orland.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 34