His laugh boomed out. “Oh, you got me there, you little vixen. See, that’s why I never asked for you. Can’t be married to a girl who’ll get the better of me, no matter how pretty. But you’re right, I haven’t asked because I know what the answer will be.”
“If I do the asking for you, you might get a different answer.”
“What are you saying?” Lennart frowned and sat down at the table across from her.
“I’m saying I’ll go to Sanova and negotiate a marriage on your behalf. It’s the perfect solution. Ottilya will have no reason to harp on her claim to the Estenor crown if she can be assured her own grandchild will inherit it one day.”
“Think so?”
“Yes, I do. I doubt she likes this war any more than you do. You hate her, and no doubt the feeling is mutual, but I’m sure she’d like to find a diplomatic solution. And if I do the talking, she won’t have to swallow her pride to speak with you directly. At least not until you’re her son-in-law.”
“That’s one theory, but it’s as good as any. Let’s lay it all out right now then. Let’s say you pull this off, and I marry Raysa Sikora, which will end the war with Sanova. What do you want in exchange for that? Don’t get me wrong, I can guess. But I want to hear it from you straight.”
“Very well then.” All unease had left her. Gwynneth was in her element now and sure of what she was doing. “I want you to enter the war in Kronland. Not on the side of my brother, but on behalf of Kendryk.”
Lennart smiled. “Interesting. How does your brother feel about this?”
“I haven’t asked. But I’m sure he won’t like it. Still, he needs the help. More than that, he needs to get home. He never consolidated his rule in Norovaea and I don’t like Norvel Classen running everything.”
“True, Arryk blundered off to Terragand pretty fast after being crowned. Not that I blame him. I was about ready to come rescue you myself.”
Gwynneth was glad that hadn’t happened. This level of obligation was bad enough. “In any event, I’d like you to invade Kronland on behalf of Terragand with the goal of restoring Kendryk to the throne.”
“How do you propose to get Kendryk?”
“I’m working on it. Gauvain Brevard is trying but hasn’t yet succeeded and I have ideas of my own.”
“All right. I can leave that part to you. There’s something else. We haven’t talked in a long time so you probably don’t know how things stand with me. I’ve heard about the changes in the faith sweeping Kronland right now and I’d like to see those changes become permanent.”
Gwynneth couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face. “I would like nothing more.”
“Really? I hadn’t taken you for a religious sort.”
“I wasn’t.” She told him about Edric Maximus and the Scrolls.
His face lit up as she spoke. “Same thing happened to me. It was well over a year ago when I got the first copy of the Scrolls, one of your Edric’s translations. I’d never been very devout, but those words I read, they spoke to me. It was like the gods themselves touched me, if you can picture that.”
“I know what you mean,” Gwynneth said eagerly. “And that’s why I’ve spent far too much time making sure Edric spreads the truth everywhere when I should have tried to attack Teodora directly.”
“No, you did right. Teodora will fall that much easier with the groundwork laid in Kronland.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I hope you’re right. “
“I hope so too. Teodora needs to go. For a while, I wondered if we could negotiate a peace that guarantees religious freedom for the Kronland rulers, but now I don’t think that’s good enough. The Empire is a corrupt relic of the old faith and must be wiped out.”
There was a passion in his voice that Gwynneth had never noticed before, and she found herself swept up in it. He went on. “The only way to do it is to gather all of the Kronland rulers into one big army, along with your brother, if he can. If we all stand together, we’ll easily defeat Brynhild Mattila and the rest. Then it’s only a matter of time before we’re at the gates of Atlona. I know I can take it.”
Gwynneth was certain he could too. He was no Andor Korma. She had heard glowing praise of Lennart’s military theories and innovations for several years now. No doubt he couldn’t wait to try them out. “I must get you out of Sanova so you can do this.”
“Good. Like I said, I’m not keen on the Sikora girl. I’m twice her age, and I’m sure she’ll be less thrilled about it than I am. But you’re right. If there’s an easy way to end this, it’s that one. When can you sail?”
“I thought I’d wait for Captain Brun to return in a few days. She said she could take me.”
“Excellent. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable here, but I wouldn’t mind talking over a few things with you while you wait. This might be a good time to discuss some invasion plans so you can lay the groundwork with the northerners when you get back to Kronland.”
Gwynneth didn’t bother hiding her excitement. Now she just needed to get the agreement of Queen Ottilya.
Anton
Anton and the count didn’t spend long in Aquianus because Edric Maximus had been ordered by King Arryk to join him in all haste.
“Any idea what it’s about?” the count had asked Edric.
The Maximus shook his head. “He said it was urgent and critical to the war effort. Of course I’ll help where I can.”
It took several days to get to Fromenberg and they rode straight to the king. It was hard to say if he was happier to welcome Edric Maximus, or the count with his three thousand fresh troops.
“Barela’s attacks decimated our horse, so we are in sore need of cavalry,” King Arryk said, clapping the count on the shoulder. “And I have a mission you can help with.”
Anton went to the stables while the count was in meetings with the king and Maximus. He’d hear what it was about soon enough.
He got the horses settled in when there was a small commotion. Someone important was riding into the stable-yard. Anton dusted his hands off on his breeches and went out to see what was going on. It was the Duchess Maryna and her little brother—Anton didn’t remember his name. It seemed they had been out for a ride with a large group of grooms and bodyguards.
Though Maryna couldn’t have been over eight, she rode a full-grown Zastwarian mare. Not much taller than a large pony, the mare had the glossiest chestnut coat, a black mane and tail, and the finest bones Anton had seen on a horse. He couldn’t stop himself. “What a beautiful horse,” he said, as a groom helped the duchess down.
“Mind your place, boy,” a guard snapped at him. “This here’s the Duchess of Terragand and the likes of her don’t speak to the likes of you.”
Anton didn’t back up, and smiled at the duchess.
“Oh, it’s you!” she said. “You’re the boy who helped my uncle in the battle. I will speak with him.” She nodded at the guard and walked up to Anton, extending a tiny hand encased in a white leather glove. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he took it and bowed.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said. “Come, let’s go to the stables. Do you still have the horse Uncle Arryk gave you?”
“Oh yes,” Anton said. “Would you like to meet him?”
“Come, Devyn,” Maryna said to the little boy who had also dismounted by now. “You need to see this horse. This is my brother, Duke Devyn Bernotas. Devyn, this is—oh dear, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”
Anton doubted she’d ever known it. “Anton Kronek, at your service,” he said, sketching a small bow toward the little duke.
“Oh yes. Anton. Kronek is Moraltan, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Anton said. “Here’s Skandar.” They came to Skandar’s stall and went inside.
Even though she was much smaller, Anton couldn’t help comparing the little duchess to Gretel. Maryna was far more serious, but Anton liked her directness. Though he hated to admit it, she was even prettier than Gretel, lookin
g like a miniature version of her mother, the beautiful princess.
“Is it safe?” A groom was tagging along, no doubt to serve as a guard.
“He’s as gentle as can be.” Anton watched as Maryna petted Skandar’s nose. “He loves girls especially.”
“He’s beautiful.” Maryna sounded almost reverent. Maybe she loved horses as much as Anton did. “Just look at that shaggy winter coat, Devyn. This is a fine Norovaean stallion. Uncle Arryk must have been very pleased.”
“I want one.” Devyn rested his cheek against Skandar’s flank.
“I’m sure your uncle the king will give you one,” Anton said.
“He probably will,” Maryna said. “Though he must wait until Devyn is older. This horse is much too big for him.”
“Is not,” Devyn said.
“Hmph. We’ll see,” Maryna said.
“I love your pony, too,” Anton said, seeing that Devyn wanted to argue.
“He’s all right,” Devyn said. “I want a real horse.”
Maryna rolled her eyes and Anton hid a smile.
“Perhaps you can go riding with us next time, Anton,” she said.
Anton thrilled at the idea, but then remembered. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Didn’t you just get here?”
“Yes. But I’m with Count Orland and the king said he’s sending him on a mission. Something to do with Edric Maximus.”
Maryna’s face fell. “I heard Edric Maximus was here. I like him so much. And now we’ve made friends and you’re leaving with him. Everyone always leaves me.”‘
“Me too.” Anton was surprised at the rush of sadness he felt.
“Are your parents dead?” Maryna wanted to know.
“Yes, and my sister.”
“That’s dreadful,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t be ungrateful. I think my papa is still alive and Mama is just away for a while, though I miss them both. And I’ve missed Edric Maximus so.”
“I’ll take you to see him,” Anton said. “I know where he’s lodged.”
He felt bad, making friends, only to leave again right away.
Arryk
“Let someone else do it,” Arryk said. He didn’t want to beg. He shouldn’t have to. Kings never begged. But now he had what he wanted, which was for Larisa to treat him the same as ever. Edric Maximus had arrived with Count Orland’s new army and Larisa was leaving for Kersenstadt the next day.
“No one else will do it as well.” She came over and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. They were in their bedchamber and this was their last night together. They hadn’t been separated since the invasion.
Arryk breathed her in. It was ridiculous, that he couldn’t explain why he didn’t want to let her go. Dreams and superstitions. She would laugh. He wished Gwynneth were here because she might believe him, now she’d gone all religious. Not to mention Larisa had considerable respect for his sister and might actually listen to what she said.
“It shouldn’t be that hard.” He pulled back so he could look her in the eye. “Olsen can do it.”
“I’m sure he can get the Maximus in, but preparing for a siege? I doubt it.” Even though it seemed unlikely that Mattila would try to take the city back with Arryk at her rear, they had decided to prepare for the possibility.
“Do you know how to get ready for a siege?”
“I do. I wrote to General Hohenwart and she sent me a few books. She’s the best at that sort of thing.”
“Wish I could send her instead,” Arryk grumbled.
“She’s too far away. And besides, Count Orland said her army is scattered across the countryside for leagues around. She’d have to round them up, bring them here, and you’d have to put them up somehow since she won’t need them all for Kersenstadt. No, I know what I’m doing. And there’s more.”
“Isn’t there always?” He kissed the tip of her ear.
“I’m serious, Arryk. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for, to prove myself. Listen, I don’t want you to think I regret meeting you, ever. I don’t. But ever since we became lovers, everyone else is certain that my only value is because of what I mean to you. It doesn’t occur to anyone that I might be a rather competent soldier all on my own.”
“Oh come now. The way you fought at Birkenfels should end all doubts about that.”
“It should, but I didn’t command there. I did well enough as your bodyguard, but we only survived because Orland broke through at the last minute. The fact remains, no one thinks I’m capable of commanding my own operation.”
“Who cares what anyone else thinks?”
“I care. I want to be taken seriously and I can be a greater help to you if I am. Please let me do this?”
“You’ll be gone so long.”
“Just until summer. I’ll get the city garrisoned and fortified, build up outerworks like no one has ever seen. In the meantime, I’ll send you all of the guns and other equipment I can spare. While I hold the city, you’ll march on Mattila as soon as the weather clears and Hohenwart gets here. Once you’ve defeated Mattila, Kersenstadt will be secure and I’ll come join you.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be. My part will be straightforward, though I’ll have to work hard. Now that you have Orland back and Hohenwart and maybe even Faris in the spring, you should be able to defeat Mattila. Just choose a good spot—Hohenwart can help with that.”
“I suppose you’re right. But I hate doing this by myself, especially with Gwynneth gone.”
“I don’t like to leave you. But Gwynneth is doing you a good turn up in Estenor. Can you imagine how quickly this will be over if she gets Lennart to invade?”
“I don’t see how she can.” That made Arryk grumpy, too. Everything he’d heard about the Estenorian king showed that he was the kind of ruler that Arryk could only wish he was. Arryk had met Lennart when he was courting Gwynneth and had been both impressed and intimidated, even though Lennart had been nothing but friendly and generous. He was intelligent, an excellent soldier, well-educated, and many found him good-looking in a rough, manly sort of way. It didn’t suit Arryk to have Lennart breeze in and succeed where he so far was only making the slowest progress.
“You don’t like him, I know.” Larisa looked into his eyes.
“But I do like him. That’s the problem. You’ll like him too, perhaps better than me.” That was his biggest worry. He hadn’t meant to say it, but there it was.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Larisa laughed, then nuzzled Arryk’s chin. “Believe me, I’ve heard the stories, and to be honest, he sounds very dull. Your sister must have written pages about their religious conversations and I’ve told you before how I feel about scholars. I don’t care how great a warrior he is. If he wants to talk about Edric’s sermons, or even worse, the Holy Scrolls, I’ll be tempted to kill him. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Arryk said, relieved. He pulled her close once more. “You’re right and I must let you do this. I’ll just miss you so terribly.”
“I’ll miss you too. I’ll write to you all the time. So often in fact, you’ll be most annoyed.”
“I doubt that.”
“I know how you feel about letters.”
“Yes, but I’ll love yours.”
“Just wait until you see my writing skills before you say that.” She laughed and kissed him. “Now stop making me sad and take me to bed one more time.”
Gwynneth
Gwynneth was ready when Captain Brun returned. Her time with Lennart had been productive, but it was all for nothing if she couldn’t make this marriage happen within the next few months.
Brun sailed straight into the harbor at Novuk, Sanova’s principal city.
“Is it safe to fly the Estenor flag here?” Gwynneth asked, more than a little nervous.
“Oh sure. We’re not officially at war, and here, I’ll run up a little white flag underneath if i
t’ll put your mind at ease.”
“That helps; thank you.” Gwynneth eyed the guns sticking out from the ramparts that lined the harbor approach. They resembled the bristles of a hedgehog. No wonder Lennart was raiding elsewhere.
Somewhere ahead of them, a gun boomed. “I think they want us to stop,” Gwynneth said.
“Seems like it.” For all her casual tone, Brun’s face was set. Surely she found this at least a little bit nerve-wracking. “Oh look; here they come.”
A small boat, rowed by a crew of eight, approached rapidly. Gwynneth pulled back the hood of her cloak, even though the wind was icy and stepped to the rail as the boat drew near. She looked for the person in charge and spotted him right away, his arrogant manner as obvious as his red and gold uniform. “State your name and rank,” she called out before he could speak.
He had opened his mouth to ask hers, then closed it again.
Gwynneth raised an eyebrow, hoping she appeared haughtier than she felt.
“Count Bendik Tarka, lieutenant of the guard of her majesty Queen Ottilya Sikora.” He doffed his hat, though he didn’t quite bow, understandable since the little boat was pitching rather alarmingly.
Gwynneth decided not to draw things out. “Good day, Count. I am Gwynneth Roussay, Princess of Norovaea and Terragand, here on a diplomatic mission. I would speak with the queen as soon as possible.”
Tarka almost fell out of the boat but recovered, and his hat came off in a wide sweep. “Princess, forgive me. We did not expect you. Especially not on such a vessel.” He eyed the stout little Rusa with some condescension and Gwynneth felt the captain bristle beside her.
“This is not an official visit.” Gwynneth kept her tone cool. “My mission requires delicacy and I’d prefer to remain anonymous until I have spoken with the queen. Can you manage that?”
“I believe I can.” The count nearly swept off his hat again, but appeared to change his mind as another swell hit his boat. “You may follow us into the harbor if you please.”
Gwynneth inclined her head, then smiled at Captain Brun as soon as Tarka’s back was turned. “Better now, I think.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 76