Once the wagon righted itself, she struggled back to her bench. This was intolerable. An enemy officer who knew she was empress, treating her like a common criminal. Teodora contented herself with the thought that as a fellow ruler, Princess Edyta would likely be aghast at her treatment. No doubt she’d chastise the general and see that Teodora was lodged in comfort until arrangements were made to free her.
Teodora refused to believe in anything but freedom. If Lennart became involved, as seemed likely, she might be forced to sign an unpalatable treaty. But such a thing, signed under duress, could never be valid. And Brynhild Mattila was nearby. The moment Teodora was released, she’d find her general and together they’d pounce on her enemies, who’d no doubt be complacent due to worthless words on paper.
Such thoughts kept Teodora in a good humor for the circumstances at least, and when the wagon wheels clacked across stone, she expected they’d reached Princess Edyta’s castle.
It was time to make an impression. With her hands bound, she could do nothing to smooth her hair or wipe her face, but she could still carry herself like an empress.
The wagon door opened, and two guards filled the tiny wagon.
“Time to go, Your Highness.” Judging by his sarcastic tone, he didn’t believe the title.
Teodora didn’t care. She followed the guards out, not looking at either one of them. Her bare feet touched sun-warmed stone, and so many guards surrounded her, it was hard to see anyone else. But they were in a castle courtyard, and one of some size.
Looking like something out of a fairytale with its many towers and sharp spires, Berolstein was the most welcoming place Teodora had seen in a long time. While it was true the ruling Martinek family had a reputation for blood-thirstiness, Teodora decided they would soon realize they had much in common with her. Perhaps she could negotiate separately with Princess Edyta. Once freed, Teodora would have a great deal to offer someone who’d helped her out of a tight spot.
That thought filled her with hope. In spite of her awkward position, Teodora stood up straight, lifted her chin, and looked down her nose as the guards separated, revealing General Vidmar coming toward her.
The general stood before her, then grabbed Teodora’s chin, turning her head first one way and then the other, as though inspecting a horse she wanted to buy.
“Remarkable,” the general said, letting go Teodora’s chin. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“You have,” Teodora said, her eyes traveling over the general with open derision.
Now that she remembered, she recognized this woman. Her face was no longer smooth and pretty, but her dark eyes were just as defiant, though a hint sadder. A great deal could happen to a person in fifteen years. Teodora hoped most of it had been bad.
General Vidmar chuckled. “Just as charming as I remember. Well, no harm in keeping the attitude, since it’s all you’ve got now.” She turned to a guard standing at her elbow. “Take her and follow me. I’m going straight to the princess.”
Teodora tossed her head and walked into the castle as though flanked by courtiers, rather than manhandled by guards. The stones under her feet turned cool as they entered the main building and it grew dark, the blinding brilliance of the day suddenly gone. Down a long corridor, then into what had to be the great hall. Teodora’s guards stopped her at the door as the general went ahead.
A tiny woman sat at the head of a long table on one side of the room. Milky light filtered through tall windows that clearly hadn’t been cleaned in years, disappearing into a gloomy ceiling, criss-crossed with dark timbers. Teodora found herself distracted. She was accustomed to Kronland rulers living in fabulous palaces designed by Cesiane builders and decorated in the Galladian style. This was altogether rougher and more primitive.
The stone-flagged floor was bare and dirty, rushes strewn about in the old style. In spite of the warmth of the day, it was chilly in here and a fire burned in an enormous stone hearth at the end of the hall. Dogs lay everywhere, and various shifty-looking sorts sat about in small groups, ignoring the princess as they conversed, though all talk came to a halt once the general spoke.
“Your Grace,” she said, her voice ringing out across the room. “I’ve captured the Empress Teodora.”
“You did what?” The princess rose from her chair, though she was so short it hardly made a difference. Her voice was thin and reedy, screeching into the rafters.
“We fell upon a Moraltan unit just inside your borders,” the general said, then motioned to the guards to bring Teodora forward. “We destroyed their camp and killed a number of them, but found this woman confined in one of the wagons.”
Pretending she wore a beautiful gown and all of her best jewelry, Teodora took her time crossing the floor, smirking as she noticed the guards falling in step with her. Overall, they made quite a dignified, if odd-looking procession.
“Are you truly the empress?” Princess Edyta asked, peering at Teodora. With faded brown eyes in a wizened face, the princess was strikingly unattractive.
“I am.” Teodora lifted her chin. “I was traveling in disguise.”
“Why?” the princess asked, her manner shockingly undeferential.
“That’s none of your business. And kindly refer to me as Your Highness from now on.”
“All right.” The princess waved a tiny gloved hand. “Take Her Highness to the dungeon. Chains on hands and feet.”
“We should negotiate,” Teodora said frantically as the guards dragged her away. “I can offer you a great deal,” she shouted over her shoulder.
But the princess ignored her, and as Teodora was dragged through the door, she heard her say to the general, “Will you stay for dinner? We’re having fresh boar, killed by my youngest daughter this morning. It seems we have a few things to discuss.”
Braeden
“Please, Franca,” Braeden said. “If Teodora’s own people have turned on her, she’s finished. Knowing Mattila, she’ll hold on a while longer, but only until Lennart makes her an offer she can’t refuse.”
“You’re probably right.” Franca wiped her strawberry juice-stained hands on her breeches. “But how is this going to work?”
“Simple.” Braeden thought fast about how to do this in a way that was safe for Franca. “You come to Heidenhof with me and make an official deal with Lennart. Send a message to the rest of your troops, telling them to come this way.”
“That will be interesting.” Franca shook her head. “Magda Bartnik has been with me from the beginning, but I can’t imagine her taking an order to go over to the enemy very well.”
“Don't put it like that. Tell her you want the rest of your troops in position closer to the city. Maybe you got an order from Mattila to that effect. Once they’re closer, you can explain in person.”
“Bartnik will get any orders from the south before I do. But since she was the one to pack Teodora off, I need to get her out of there.”
“Our scouts say she’s retreated,” Braeden said, remembering.
“What?” Franca turned toward him, looking alarmed. “Her orders were to stay put until I returned.”
“Just what I heard.”
“Oh gods.” Franca put her head in her hands. “What was Magda thinking? I can’t have her linking up with Mattila right now.”
“That’s likely what she’s doing.” Might as well face an unpleasant truth sooner rather than later. “Probably wants to be the first to tell Mattila what’s going on with Teodora.”
Franca nodded. “She’ll have that priest with her and his story will be believed.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Braeden’s mind whirled. There had to be a way to pull an advantage out of this situation. “How many troops are with you now?”
“Only a company.” Franca nodded toward the woods behind her. “Likely napping in a shady spot.”
Braeden had a hard time picturing any of her disciplined troopers relaxing for even a moment. “I doubt that. I can feel their eyes on me. How reliable ar
e they? Will they follow any orders you give?”
“Yes.” Franca pursed her lips. “Though they’ll expect an explanation.”
“You can give them one easily enough. Do they know about Teodora?”
“Only a little. I didn’t feel comfortable telling everyone.”
“Smart as usual.” Braeden clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t the lot of you come to Heidenhof and we’ll talk?”
Franca was silent for a while, her eyes narrowed, squinting against the bright sunlight. “All right,” she said. “We’ll talk, though I can’t make any promises.”
Braeden didn’t bother concealing his relief. “I’ll let Lennart do the persuading. It’s past time you had a chat with him.”
“Are you sure he won’t try to kill me?” Franca stood, picking up her helmet laying on the ground. “We had a little tussle at Richenbruck, and I’m sure he thinks he owes me a beating.”
“He’s not like that.” Braeden stood, wincing as his knees creaked. “He loves a good fight, but he’s got a lot of respect for you, especially after Richenbruck. You might have wounded his pride, but if he can talk you into switching sides, that ought to make up for it.”
Franca grimaced. “True. All this is hard for me to swallow.”
“It shouldn’t be. You’re doing the right thing.”
Franca whistled, and Skandar stepped out of the trees, followed by a string of armored troopers on horseback.
“Any chance I can buy that horse from you?” Braeden asked. He knew Anton had a new battle charger, but it didn’t hurt to have two. “His original owner turned up alive.”
Franca looked worried. “Is he with you?”
“No, though he's on his way.”
“I can’t give him up.” Franca jumped onto Skandar’s back and patted his neck. “I’m sorry, he’s the best horse I ever had.”
“It’s all right.” Braeden stroked Skandar’s smooth nose. “Just figured I’d ask. Anton will be happy to see he’s well-cared-for.”
He returned to Kazmir and the rest of his troops, smiling at Destler. “So far so good. Colonel Dura is returning to Heidenhof with us to talk to the king.”
“How nice.” Destler forced a smile. He seemed even more worried now that Franca was practically in front of him.
Braeden rode back with Franca at his side. “Just like old times, eh?” He grinned. “It’s about time, too.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” Franca said, though she smiled. “I really hope this King Lennart talks better than he fights.”
Braeden chuckled. “That’s not very nice. You got lucky at Richenbruck.” Lennart told him the story one evening when they’d both had too much wine, and had been genuinely embarrassed. “Not his fault his horse slipped on the ice.”
“He needs a better horse.” Franca patted Skandar again. “A Norovaean knows how to manage in the snow.”
Braeden laughed. “He’s got one. He was so impressed by your beast, he bought a Norovaean at the first opportunity.”
“Oh well, in that case I suppose I shouldn’t fight him again.” Franca sounded amused when she said, “though if he wants to challenge me to a friendly rematch, I wouldn’t mind that.”
“That would be something to see.” Braeden wasn’t lying. Lennart likely weighed twice as much as Franca and was a good head taller, but seeing her up close, Braeden was struck by her wiry strength and quick, cat-like movements. She’d always been a good, scrappy fighter, but years and experience had turned her into a formidable one. Now he had to wonder exactly how these negotiations might be settled.
Lennart
Lennart was inspecting one of the outer fortifications when Braeden’s party returned. He'd chosen that spot so he could keep an eye on the road leading to the river. He was standing on top of a giant earthen wall when he spotted the glint of armor in the distance. While it might have been a scouting patrol, it seemed too large. Lennart grabbed a glass from his adjutant and peered through it.
He grinned at the sight of Braeden at the head of the party, riding next to someone with bright red hair. It looked like he’d succeeded.
Lennart hurried back to the ground, slipping on the loose earth and sliding on his bottom part of the way. He was glad Franca Dura hadn’t witnessed that. His dignity had some recovery to do with no further blows. He hurried to Broga, then headed for the road.
By the time he reached it, Braeden was already there, bringing his party to a halt.
Lennart realized he wasn’t greeting a potential ally as formally as he ought. He moved to doff his hat, as you should in the presence of someone of importance, but realized he must have left it somewhere, if he’d put it on at all that morning. He couldn’t remember. He should put on a better show to court a new ally, but it was too late now.
“Colonel Dura,” he said, grinning, riding straight up to the young woman. This was the first time he’d seen her without a helmet, and he found her attractive, in a tough way. “You are most welcome here.”
“Your Highness.” She inclined her head, smiling slightly, her green eyes boring into him. “It’s nice to meet you in a less violent setting.”
Lennart had to laugh at that. “Well put. It’s about time the two of us had a discussion that doesn’t involve swords.”
Dura raised her chin. “I didn’t mind the swords at all. Gets to the point faster.”
“True.” Lennart fell in beside her as they rode toward the city gate. “But today our conversation requires more complexity.” He looked back at the few horsemen she’d brought. “Where are the rest of your troops camped?”
“I don’t know,” she said, anxiety flickering in her eyes. “Count Terris says they’ve retreated south.”
“Hm.” Lennart didn’t know what to make of that. He’d hoped her whole army would be close so he could deploy it at once. Still, he’d offer her anything she wanted to get her to fight for him. He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t giving it all away by showing how excited he was. “We’ll go to the Maximus’s palace where we can talk in greater comfort.”
He had everything ready there, including servants who’d take care of Dura’s troops and horses for as long as they stayed. They made their way to Edric’s library since Lennart had decided a less formal setting would be preferable.
Since it was already early afternoon, a cold luncheon had been laid out, and to Lennart’s annoyance, Gwynneth and Devyn waited there as well.
“I thought it would be good for Devyn to sit in on your negotiation,” Gwynneth whispered to Lennart, then offered her most charming smile.
“I was hoping to keep things simple,” Lennart said. “Don’t want her to have to face everyone in the palace.”
“It’s only a few people, and she doesn’t look intimidated in the least.” Gwynneth glided away, then took Devyn by the elbow, steering him toward Franca. “His Grace wanted to meet you,” she said, pushing Devyn forward.
Franca looked Devyn over appraisingly after a brief bow. “I thought I saw you out on the battlefield. Good work, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, and likewise,” Devyn said coolly, only flushing a little. He was getting better at dealing with strangers in his official capacity.
Once they were all seated, servants serving bread and sliced meat, Lennart looked at Franca, sitting across from him at the small table. “I’m guessing Count Terris has already put you in the picture. I’m willing to offer you a great deal if you’ll fight for me.”
“I know,” Franca said, then took a long drink of ale. “I’m considering it, except for a few complications.”
“Tell me,” Lennart said.
Franca took a deep breath, then looked around the table. “This information cannot leave this room, at least not until all of my troops are safe.” She stared down, tracing the table’s glossy surface with her finger. “The Empress Teodora has been removed.”
“Removed?” Lennart didn’t understand the choice of words. “Deposed, you mean?”
“Not exactly. I wasn’t there when it happened, but she’s been unwell, and her doctor and the commander of her troops decided—”
“Wait,” Lennart interrupted. “Teodora’s been overthrown by her doctor?”
“I don’t think you could call it that. She’s still empress, but has been removed from command of the troops she was leading.”
“Because she’s ill?” This still wasn’t making any sense.
“Because she’s crazy,” Braeden said. “It seems Her Highness lost her mind more than usual and those close to her had enough. Surprised they made it this long.”
“What have they done with her?” Lennart was finding it hard to absorb this unexpected information.
“They’re taking her to Atlona, where they hope Livilla can heal her.” Franca’s eyes were wide now. “The officer I left in charge made all the arrangements. I have no idea where the empress is now—headed south, I would guess.”
“Likely looking for Mattila’s protection.” Lennart shook his head. If he’d heard of this just a few days ago, he might have been able to catch up to her and do something about it.
“No,” Franca said. “I was told they would try to avoid Mattila. Since she and the empress aren’t on good terms, they don’t want her getting her hands on her.”
“That means Isenwald or Podoska.” Lennart stood. “We’ve got to go after her.”
Teodora
Time passed with painful slowness and Teodora wished for Sibyla. Even as a captor, she’d always kept Teodora’s comfort in mind. No one did so now.
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 34