“I want to get rid of Evard, too,” Kendryk muttered, mostly to himself, though Natalya heard, and smiled.
Official word of the invasion came just a few days later, directly from Lennart. “He’s having trouble with your cousin,” Natalya said. “Prince Stepan is most reluctant to lend his support.”
“I don’t blame him.” Kendryk had only met Stepan once and hadn’t been impressed, though he understood why he might not want to put his kingdom at risk.
“You must convince him all the same,” Natalya said, laying the dispatch on her desk. She and Kendryk sat in the small study attached to her personal rooms. No one but the king, Kendryk and Gwynneth ever came here. “Lennart’s force is too small to take on both Ensden and Mattila. He can hire mercenaries, but must go far to get them. That’s why he needs support from Kronland.”
“It’s the least they can do to help him,” Kendryk said.
“That’s the other thing.” Natalya clasped her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “This enterprise is risky because Lennart is not only a foreigner, but also because he’s made no secret of his ambitions. Left unchecked, he’ll dominate all of northern Kronland.”
Kendryk’s heart dropped into his stomach. “That’s unacceptable.”
“It is.” Natalya’s eyes were grave. She seemed tired and preoccupied. Kendryk hoped nothing else was wrong. “That’s why your presence is so important. Lennart must be made to understand that, while we appreciate his help, we don’t want him meddling in Kronland’s affairs once he’s vanquished Teodora. His interference is ultimately just as harmful as Teodora’s, or mine,” she added with a wry smile.
“But we need him right now, and desperately,” Kendryk said. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what to do.”
“Take as big a leadership role as you can. When he reviews troops, be at his side. When he makes decisions, give him counsel.”
“Why would he listen to me?” Kendryk couldn’t imagine what advice he could offer someone like Lennart.
“Because you are still senior ruler in Kronland, and the others will listen to you. Thanks to your cousin’s stubbornness, Lennart is already getting the message they won’t be as cooperative as he’d hoped. If you show him they’ll follow you, he’ll be forced to rely on you. And that means he won’t be able to build unchecked political power on his own.”
“I still don’t understand why anyone in Kronland would follow me,” Kendryk said, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. For the first time, he noticed it was covered in a most lascivious painting. He flushed, and looked back down.
Natalya noticed his blush, and smirked. “You’ve faced Teodora and survived; now you’ve returned with a powerful ally. That’s impressive, and others will see it too. When you meet Edric, explain my concerns. Lennart is keen to spread the Quadrene Creed, but I hope Edric will still hesitate to lend unqualified support.”
“He will. Devout as he is, he’s also concerned with the sovereignty of Kronland, and of Terragand’s in particular. I’m sure he’ll see things our way.”
“I think so too. I haven’t written to him about any of this, and I ask that you don’t either. I believe Lennart might well have ways of interfering with official dispatches.”
Kendryk was becoming more and more worried about what he, Gwynneth, and Natalya had just unleashed. “Is he at all trustworthy?”
“In his own way. He possesses considerable integrity, but he’s realistic about the quality of his friends and his enemies. I’m sure you’ll like him, but never let your guard down completely.”
“I’ll remember that.” Kendryk’s mouth was dry. He was glad he’d have Edric with him when he met his new ally.
Anton
“I wish there’d be a battle,” Anton told Susanna after they’d finished work one evening. Neither of them wanted to sleep, so they shared the rest of a bottle of brandy left over from a party. “I’m sick of sitting here while the general plays games with the empress.”
“You’d rather fight than help me out?” Susanna sounded like she was joking, but had a challenging tilt to her chin.
Anton grinned at her. “I like helping you out. It’s fun, and nice to make money. But I’m a soldier, and fighting is better than anything.” At least that had been true with the count and Skandar. He hoped it would still be true, even while fighting on the wrong side.
“I’ll worry about you,” Susanna said, folding her hands on the table after pushing aside her ledger.
Anton always went over it with her, and liked how straightforward and honest she was. “You will?” he asked, feeling stupid for asking when she’d already said she would be.
“I will.” She looked straight at him. “I’ve grown fond of you, even though you’re dreadfully conceited.”
“I’m not conceited.” Anton said indignantly. “Just confident.”
“Too good for me,” she said softly. She finished her cup, and poured more.
“That’s not true,” he said. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. Just because I don’t drool over you like some of those other fellows …” He’d noticed she had several suitors, though she never paid them any mind. Now he admitted to himself he was glad she didn’t.
“No, you only drool a little.” She sounded playful, but her face was serious.
“I can’t help it; you’re really pretty. But we have a professional relationship, don’t we?” Even as the words came out, Anton realized he wouldn’t mind something more, though he wasn’t sure what that meant. Even though Susanna was still mostly a stranger, he liked being around her. She really was pretty, Anton thought, far more than he’d noticed at first. Her eyes snapped and sparkled, her skin was smooth and creamy, with only a few cute freckles across her nose. Even though Susanna was short, she had a deliciously round figure, and showed it off with dresses cut lower than was quite decent. She’d caught Anton staring at her bosom once or twice and only said, “My eyes are up here, silly,” which made him blush and stammer an apology. But she never seemed offended.
“Hm.” Susanna drummed her fingers on the table. “We could be closer, if you wanted to.”
“Really? I’d love that, but you never tell me anything about yourself.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“There doesn’t need to be.” He realized it bothered him that he knew so little about her. “You haven’t told me how old you are, where you’re from, how you came to be here. I’ve told you all of that about me.”
“I don’t know how old you are.” She looked triumphant.
“I’m sixteen, like I said.” Anton reckoned his height made that believable.
“I don’t believe you.” She leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts up, forcing Anton to look at the ceiling. “I’m almost certain you’re lying about your age, though I’m not sure why.”
He took a long drink, emptying his cup. The drink warmed his insides, and the knot that had stuck in his chest since his capture loosened up a little. “Pour me some more, and I’ll tell you how old I really am.” He slid his cup across the table, and Susanna raised an eyebrow, but poured more and slid it back. He took another long drink. “I’m almost fifteen,” he said. “I started lying about my age at ten, so the count would take me into battle. Then I got into the habit.”
“I was afraid of that.” Susanna sighed, then poured the rest of the brandy into her cup. “What a shame; you really are too young for me.”
“I’m not,” Anton said a little too loudly. “You’re only a few years older than me.”
“I’m twenty,” she said. “And I’m married.”
Anton laughed. “That’s funny. Where’s your husband?”
“I’m not sure.” She stared at the table. It seemed she wasn’t joking. Anton hoped she wouldn’t start crying.
“He’s still alive?”
“Perhaps.” She looked up, her eyes damp. “He ran off about a year ago with another woman, and I haven’t
heard from him since.”
“Was he a soldier? Did he desert?”
“He was a soldier, but he didn’t desert. He just failed to tell me that his contract was up and he was going to Cesiano. I woke up one morning, and he’d disappeared. One of his comrades told me where he went.”
“That’s awful,” Anton said, meaning it. “How did you manage? Though you’re doing well enough now.”
She shrugged. “He never was much use, so I’d already started selling things. He’d always drink away his pay when he got it.” She sighed heavily. “Still, I loved him, and he broke my heart.”
Anton couldn’t think of what to say. She looked sad, but he sensed that if he said the right thing now, she might see him in a different way. Finally he said, “I’ve been there.”
“You’ve been in love?” she looked skeptical.
“Yes,” Anton said. “And she left, and broke my heart, too.”
“Poor little boy,” Susanna said, breaking the spell.
Elektra
Elektra was excited when Livilla appeared in Mattila’s study, but only for a moment. The Maxima barely delivered her message before the general flew into a rage. “Who does she think she is?” Mattila shouted, overturning the table Elektra had been sitting at. Elektra jumped out of the way, but not fast enough, as a chair toppled over, smashing her little toe. She wanted to shriek out in pain, but bit her tongue until it bled, rather than draw attention to herself. She backed into a corner of the room, keeping one eye on the general, and the other on Livilla.
The Maxima stood calmly inside the door, flanked by imperial guards. Elektra saw more of them clustered outside in the corridor. She hoped they would be enough.
Mattila finally stopped trying to destroy the furniture, and stood in the center of the room, breathing hard. Her face was red, and a lock of her short gray hair fell over her forehead. Elektra had never seen her in such disarray.
Elektra turned back toward Livilla, who put out her hand. “Come my dear, it’s time you returned to Atlona.”
Elektra hesitated. She didn’t want to stay with Mattila a moment longer, but didn’t want to return to her old life either. Trapped in a temple dormitory with silly, giggling girls, going over the same dull lessons every day. She’d spent the past several months in command of an infantry regiment, and found she loved it. She loved the drills and inspections, and planning maneuvers with other officers. Their flattery aside, she suspected she was good at it.
“Come,” Livilla said, her hand still extended.
Elektra glanced at Mattila; hatred burned in her eyes. It was likely all for her mother, but it wasn’t wise to stay and find out. She edged along the wall until she was out of Mattila’s reach, and ran to Livilla and the shelter of the guards.
“Stupid girl,” Mattila spat, while Elektra cowered into Livilla’s arms. “This old hag and your mother will never let you do anything worthwhile. Don’t let them turn you into their creature; you can do so much more.”
Elektra felt tears welling up, wondering how the general understood her greatest fear, but realized she wouldn’t stay. She’d suffered for her mother’s actions before, and didn’t want to endure that again.
Livilla handed her off to a guard, who hustled her into the corridor. From there, Elektra was unable to watch the rest, but she heard Livilla’s voice. “The empress also orders you to leave Brandana and return to your lands in Moralta.”
“And if I don’t?” Mattila’s voice was firm, though Elektra recognized the rage boiling under the surface.
“Nothing will happen right now,” Livilla said. “The empress has other concerns. But be assured she will take care of you later. She will not allow treason to go unpunished.”
“Treason,” Mattila said with a snort. “I think not. You can tell Teodora she hasn’t seen the last of me. Not only will she be sorry she’s done this, she’ll come crawling back soon enough. She hasn’t a clue—you and I know that better than anyone, and the little archduchess here is about to learn it. We’ll talk again soon. Now get out of my sight, old woman.”
And Elektra was swept along with the guards until they were outside the house, and Livilla was beside her again. “That went well, my dear, don’t you think?”
“I don’t understand what happened.” Elektra tried to keep her voice from quavering.
Livilla pulled Elektra along by the arm as they walked down the street. “Your mother just removed Mattila from command over her armies. All but one regiment are now in imperial pay and will join Count Ensden in Terragand.”
Elektra didn’t understand how all of this had been accomplished, but she never doubted Livilla. She came to a stop. “I don’t want to go back to Atlona,” she said.
Livilla stopped as well. “Your mother has ordered it.”
The tears she’d held back earlier now overflowed. “But I can’t. I have my regiment. I’m responsible for it, and can’t leave it.” She was blubbering now, even as she realized that tears were hardly the stuff of an infantry colonel.
Livilla smiled. “I understand. I’m afraid I can’t go against your mother’s orders, but perhaps I can arrange a compromise. I agree that you should not abandon your military duties, so you’ll bring your troops along.”
Elektra imagined riding through the gates of Atlona at the head of her own shining, well-drilled force. That would impress her mother. She brightened. “I won’t have to go back to school?”
Livilla smiled, though she looked a little sad too. “No, your school days are behind you,” she said.
Gwynneth
Once her time drew near, Natalya insisted that Gwynneth and the children move into her palace. Gwynneth didn’t see why, but Natalya said, “I promised Kendryk I would take care of you, and I can do that best in my home. The doctor will also stay with me until it’s time.”
“But I never have trouble,” Gwynneth protested.
“Good.” Natalya smiled, though there was steel in her voice. Gwynneth realized arguing was pointless. So her third daughter arrived on a stormy late winter night, with a Maxima there to bless her the moment she arrived. Gwynneth had to admit it was nicer than giving birth in a tent, which was where Stella had been born.
Kendryk and Gwynneth had already decided to name a girl Renata, after Kendryk’s mother. It was a relief to have so much help, with Natalya providing an army of servants and nurses. So Gwynneth appeared at court only a few days after the baby’s birth. She decided it was important to not be away too long, since King Gauvain and Natalya seemed constantly distracted by matters that wouldn’t further Kendryk’s cause.
Natalya seemed altogether preoccupied. She always looked tired, and Gwynneth noticed her eyes appearing strange and glassy, as though she were under the influence of some potion. But she laughed off Gwynneth’s concerned questions, so Gwynneth decided not to pry further.
“We must put pressure on Stepan Falk,” Gwynneth said, sitting in Natalya’s study.
Natalya shook her head. “I don’t see how. If Lennart is as effective as you say, he will convince him, or carry on without him. We don’t have time to worry about it right now, since we have to send more troops to the Dallmaring Provinces, and Maladena is making noises about Zeelund.”
Gwynneth frowned. “Isn’t the populace in the Dallmarings in favor of Galladian rule?”
“Not really.” Natalya sighed, pushing aside the letter she’d been reading. “They were always against Olvisyan oppression, and looked to us for help. But they wish to govern themselves, and see an opportunity right now.”
“Govern themselves? What a ridiculous idea. They must realize that Gauvain will treat them far better than Teodora ever did.”
“People don’t always know what’s good for them.” Natalya gave a half-smile. “So I suppose we must show them the hard way. But that’s far from the only thing weighing on my mind. “ Natalya stood, stretched, and walked over to a window. “The more I study the Scrolls, the more I understand Edric didn’t go nearly far enough wit
h his ideas. And there is no time to lose in making the changes the gods require.”
Gwynneth got up and joined her at the window. In spite of the gradual coming of spring, a cold wind blew even colder drops of rain against the tall windows. Gwynneth watched a drop run all the way down the pane. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. How could Edric possibly go any farther than he did? He risked everything to bring about his reforms.”
Natalya turned toward Gwynneth, her eyes grave. “Oh, I’m not faulting anything Edric has done. We owe him a great debt for his accomplishments and his steadfastness. But we must do much more. Or perhaps someone else needs to carry on what he has started to its final conclusion.”
Gwynneth was beginning to understand. “Someone like you.”
Natalya smiled. “You think me power-hungry.”
“I know you are.” Gwynneth smiled back to show she didn’t mean it as an insult. “It’s one of the things I love about you. But this can’t go much farther until Kronland is free of Teodora’s influence.”
Natalya took Gwynneth’s hand and led her to a cushioned bench near the window, then said, “You had the right idea when Arryk first came, converting all of the people before enlisting their rulers as allies.”
“That didn’t work out, did it?”
“No, it did not, but it wasn’t because the people were lacking in faith. They lacked a leader who shared their convictions.”
Gwynneth sighed. “It’s obvious now that Arryk was not the right leader for that task.”
“He was not, though I appreciate his efforts, and he provided vital protection for Edric in those early days.”
“Isn’t Lennart a whole other matter? I have every reason to believe his faith is strong.”
“It may be. But once he’s defeated Teodora, he cannot stay in Kronland. No, the rulers must look to one of their own.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 113