Rathenridge crossed his arms over his chest as though considering whether or not the décor worked. “It matters what his story is.”
“No, it matters what he can get out of him.” Tomas sighed. “Jorndar does nothing unless there is something in it for him.”
Dentin frowned at me. “What are Wisten’s strong points?”
“Persuasive arguing and blatant lying with ease.”
“Weaknesses?”
That one I struggled to enumerate. There were so many. “He likes women, expensive pleasures, money, and the easy life.”
“Does he care for power?”
“Not as much as the physical pleasures.”
“So he would be seeking money.”
I nodded.
“But Jorndar doesn’t have money, does he?” Dentin asked Tomas the last bit.
“I have no idea. I didn’t have time to inspect my treasury before I was called back to Wisenvale.”
I spoke up. “Jorndar could easily hand my cousin twice what he was extorting already from the late Lord Irvaine.” All three men frowned at me. “I did get a chance to inspect the treasury.”
Dentin’s eyes narrowed. “Who was extorting money from Kolbent?”
“Lord Wisten.”
“So your cousin uses extortion to gain wealth.” Dentin began pacing the length of the tent.
I opened my mouth to point out Orwin sold me to Tomas to save his skin, but Tomas’ hand on my arm made me hesitate.
Tomas leaned over to whisper. “Give him a moment.”
Rathenridge, however, didn’t read the cues. He flopped into the nearest chair, propped his feet on the table and asked, “What does all this have to do with our plans to retake the vargar?”
Dentin closed his eyes and came to a complete stop in the center of the tent.
“Know your enemy, Rathenridge.”
“Lord Wisten is weak, spineless, and manipulative. So?”
Dentin leaned over the maps and charts, eyes scanning them. “Sir Jorndar is grasping, egotistical, and selfish. He will use Wisten to the point that he is useful and then discard him.”
“Jorndar is not a fool, though.” Tomas tapped the diagram of the interior of the vargar. “Whether or not the people of Kyrenton are behind him, he knows he is trapped.”
“The question is what will he do?” Dentin pulled the diagram to the top of the pile.
“Run.” Rathenridge leapt to his feet. “He will take his greatest assets and run to cause trouble another day.”
“He married Rolendis.” Tomas leaned over the plans, resting his weight on his fisted hands. “He controls Kolbent’s wife and possibly Kolbent’s son. Even if he escapes with only Rolendis and her pregnancy intact, he can return to cause trouble for me another day.”
“If the child is a boy,” Dentin pointed out.
“Even if the child is not,” Rathenridge replied, “he can replace it with a boy babe. Someone he can mold into a weapon of revenge.”
“So, when he realizes that the people of Kyrenton have already defected, he will use Wisten’s skills to escape.” Dentin pointed to the garden. “My lady, how many know of your route of escape?”
Before I could reply, the canvas flaps were drawn wide and the king’s personal guard entered, followed by the king. Mendal scanned the room as the men bowed and I curtseyed.
“What is she doing here?” Mendal’s pale glare drove a sliver of fear through my heart.
I lowered my head in respect and to avoid his unspoken accusations despite the anger rising in my chest. Tomas showed no such restraint. He straightened beside me, readying for a fight.
Dentin beat him to the first punch. “Contributing. As Irvaine and Rathenridge know Sir Jorndar better than I, she can offer me insight into Lord Wisten’s motivations and possible actions.”
Mendal’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t confine me to irons so I counted my blessings. In an attempt to not cause more trouble for myself, I kept Tomas between us at all times. I also clasped my hands before me and kept my eyes averted in the classic position of submission.
“You have located Lord Wisten?” Mendal strode to the table and scanned the documents on it.
“Yes, sire. He has taken shelter under Jorndar’s protection within the vargar.”
“Storm the city walls then. We will hang them both.”
Tomas stepped forward. “I must protest–“
Dentin cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. “My liege, the people of Kyrenton have defected from the traitor and thrown themselves upon your mercy. In your name I assured them no retribution, dependent on their further cooperation in capturing the traitors and relinquishing the vargar back into Lord Irvaine’s care. I hope you find this satisfactory.”
Mendal’s clear gaze met Dentin’s masked one. “I suspect you are protecting someone.”
“I serve only you, my king. You know that.”
“Aye, I do, or I would wonder at the subterfuge.”
“Part of my line of work, I am afraid, my liege. Do you wish to know the plan?”
“Yes.”
Dentin outlined his proposal for retaking the vargar.“Our scouts and inside man report that besides Lord Wisten and the former Lady Irvaine, Sir Jorndar retains only ten to twenty men inside the vargar. In order to minimize destruction of the vargar gate, walls and the surrounding buildings of the town, we propose infiltrating the vargar with a small force. They will overwhelm the guard on the gates and let in the rest of the army waiting in the streets outside the vargar. Then the greater force, led by Sir Landry, will secure the fortress.”
“It sounds like a wise plan, Lord Dentin. I recognize the obvious hands of both you and Lord Irvaine in its formation. My congratulations. You have my blessing to proceed and my troops’ full support.” He turned to leave only to look my way. “I require only one change.”
All three men tensed, though none of them moved. I held my breath, unease tightening my throat.
“What change would that be, my king?” Dentin asked in a tone that could have been used to request more cheese be brought to the dinner table.
“She accompanies you inside the vargar.”
Tomas’ clenched fist shook. In an effort to still it, he pressed it to his stomach. His face remained impassive though.
“My king?” Lord Dentin asked. “Surely you don’t mean to send a gently-reared lady into such a situation.”
“If she wishes to prove her loyalty, I do require it. Lift your eyes, Lady Irvaine.”
I obeyed. The cold calculation that met my gaze chilled my heart. “I live to serve you, my king.”
“Strong words from the lips of a traitor’s cousin.”
“I am not my cousin, my liege.”
“As you keep saying, my lady. I cannot risk accepting such a claim solely upon your word. Your honor is unproven. I will, however, consider believing if your words are supported by action. Your husband has proven his loyalty to me in battle. I ask the same of you. Are you worthy of such a challenge?”
My senses whirled with the heady rush. He meant to send me into the midst of a battle? I shoved away the memory of Kyrenton. By will alone, I kept my gaze steady and my chin firm. “I shall endeavor to be.”
“Then I accept your act of homage. Return with evidence of your cousin’s death and I will be appeased.”
Without waiting for my response, he turned and strode from the tent, his men scrambling to follow.
My knees gave out. I sank to the ground and hid my face in my hands. My lungs ached for air. No matter how deeply I sucked my breaths, I couldn’t relieve the pressure of panic in the center of my chest.
Did he expect me to kill Orwin?
“No, Tomas!” Dentin’s strident tone broke through my concentration. My attention snapped up in time to observe Tomas moving to pursue the king, with Rathenridge and Dentin blocking his path.
“Get out of my way, Dentin. He has gone too far and I intend he should know it.”
“With y
our hand on your sword and murder in your eyes, you will be fortunate if you manage a word before his personal guard cuts you down.” Dentin’s normal cool demeanor frayed a bit at the edges. Every word from his mouth came out with a barely controlled snap. Muscles in his jaw moved even when he quit speaking.
“He cannot do this,” Tomas protested.
“He can.” Rathenridge’s voice was the calmest of them all. “He is king, Tomas. We are his vassals. You swore to serve him.”
“I swore to protect Brielle.”
“The Kurios will hold you to both oaths,” Rathenridge pointed out.
Tomas swore. It was mild, but it was enough to snap me out of my shock.
“I chose to rise to his challenge.”
All three men turned their heads toward me. Tomas’ mouth was already forming a rebuttal, but I didn’t wait for him to argue.
“It is this or fear the taint of treason on both of our names for generations. Orwin ruined any chance of my words of loyalty being enough to absolve me in the king’s sight. I must prove my innocence. For me.” I met Tomas’ stormy gaze. “For you.”
“For me? I don’t require it. Only a fool–”
“Tomas,” Dentin warned.
Turning away abruptly, Tomas groaned. Every movement and line of his body screamed barely controlled anger. He wanted to lash out, but he didn’t. “Her oath should have been enough.”
“It isn’t, but there is a chance to earn Mendal’s trust.”
“And let her die in the process. No. I will not sacrifice her life.”
“It wasn’t your choice.” Rathenridge’s uncharacteristically flat tone cut through the tension like no blustering could. “The decision has been made and the terms accepted. Now it is time to focus on making it possible.”
“Is it possible?” I asked, scanning their faces for hope. “I can handle a sword.”
“You are not a soldier,” Tomas snapped.
“I know.” I scrambled to my feet in a flood of anger. In some part of my detached self, I realized the anger wasn’t really for him. “I don’t claim to be one. I am, however, willing to fight. You once told me you wanted a wife who could stand beside you, not behind you. I am your wife, Tomas, and you are going to have to let me stand beside you.”
The war of emotions in his inky-black eyes tore at my resolve, but I held firm. I had to do this for him, us, and our children.
He turned away. “I was wrong.”
I blinked. Did he mean he regretted marrying me? Or that I was a fighter?
Rathenridge cleared his throat to catch Dentin’s attention and then jutted his chin toward the exit. Dentin nodded. They both left in a hurry.
Tomas didn’t move. Lantern glow painted the canvas behind him gold and threw him into shadow. At some point during our arguing the sun had set. Despite the shadows, I could still read the strain in his shoulders. The stillness of his face scared me. I knew it didn’t reflect what was going through his thoughts.
“It is the only way, Tomas.” Sudden tears pressed against my eyes, but I willed them back. This wasn’t the time to cry.
His shoulders lowered with a heavy sigh. “I know.” He held out a hand toward me.
I ran to him. As his arms closed around me and his mouth found mine, I savored the illusion of safety. Within his embrace, relishing the warmth of his touch and the savoring the thrill of desire flooding in its wake, I could envision a future of children and love. Clinging to him, I attempted to banish my dread of the morning in the fantasy of the night and the security of my husband’s arms. For tomorrow the dreams would be gone. The reality of the task before me would demand its due.
If Kurios was gracious, I would only forfeit my inner peace for the nightmare memories of battle. If not, he might demand my life. I shied away from considering a third possibility–widowhood. I feared that outcome the most.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The morning of the vargar breach dawned with a multi-hued sky. Tomas rose before the sun, forcing me from the bed to prepare. Choosing my heaviest tunic, he cut it off at my knee. Heavy woolen leggings followed. My walking boots clad my feet. As soon as he was geared up, with my assistance, and I was decently covered by my heavy cloak, we left the tent in the direction of the armory.
There he found chainmail made for a squire small enough for me to wear, but we couldn’t find a breastplate that would fit me without restricting my movements too much. We were arguing over the necessity of armoring me from the waist down when Rathenridge arrived with his wife’s padded jerkin.
“I see you two have made up.” He glanced between us a few times. Tomas glared at him, but my cheeks warmed beneath his teasing grin.
“Thank you for the jerkin.” I began pulling it on over the mail. I felt as though I carried double my weight in gear already. Thankfully the jerkin weighed less than I expected. I was struggling with the tapes when Tomas approached with a helmet. I eyed the thing warily. “Must I?”
“If you want to keep your head, you will.”
“Are you going to lop it off for her if she doesn’t wear it?” Rathenridge asked as I put the metal can over my head. “That monstrosity is too large for her. She won’t be able to see a thing and we will spend half our time stopping her from running into walls. Here–” He tossed a smaller and lighter helmet to me. “This one is functional and fashionable. I hear it is all the rage to wear helmets like these in the capital this winter.”
“Leave off, Aiden. That thing won’t stop anything. It is too light.”
I ignored him and exchanged the helmets. As I hoped, Rathenridge’s choice didn’t obscure my vision nearly as much.
“I prefer this one.”
I expected Tomas to protest. Instead he demanded, “Why?”
“Visibility, and the weight doesn’t hurt my neck. Besides, it fits the shape of my head better.”
He frowned, but took his choice from where I had set it. “If a head blow kills her, Aiden, I am hunting you down.”
“If a head blow kills her, I suspect you will do more than that,” Aiden replied with surprising severity.
“Where is Dentin?” Tomas asked as he walked over to inspect the selection of spare shields.
None of the metal plates looked like a good fit for me, but I kept that thought to myself. Tomas had let me choose my helmet. I should let him choose my shield, within reason.
Rathenridge picked up a sword and put it through a few practice swings. “I passed him on his way to the blacksmith’s to have the sword sharpened. He should be here soon.”
“Good.” Tomas approached with a shield for me to try. “Pick out a knife for her, will you? Her current knife is ill-suited for this.”
I slid my left arm through the straps on the back of the shield. Tomas let go. I expected it to be heavy since it was hardly the smallest in the collection, but it wasn’t. I moved it about, blocking an imaginary opponent and found it would work.
“Lower it a bit like this.” Tomas guided the shield down three inches. “Now tuck your head.”
“That helmet is too light,” Dentin declared as he ducked beneath the canvas roof.
I didn’t wait for Tomas to respond. “I do need to see, my lord. All the other helmets are proportioned for a man and my eyes don’t match up. Besides, they are too heavy and make my neck ache.”
Without acknowledging my protest, Dentin extended a sword belt and sheathed sword to me. “Put it on.”
After freeing my arm from the shield, I accepted them. Before donning the weapon, I paused a moment to appreciate the workmanship of the sheath. Deceptively simple at a distance, the metal and leather work of the belt and sheath enticed one to examine it closer. I couldn’t help rubbing a thumb over the intricately etched metal and leather.
“It once belonged to a formidable warrior.”
I frown at him in confusion. “But this is a woman’s weapon.” Behind him Tomas and Rathenridge were arguing over knives.
Dentin nod
ded to the weapon in my hands. “She wore it well and fought with honor and courage. I expect you to do the same.”
“I will try to be worthy of it.” I pulled the belt around my waist.
“Just stay alive.” He walked away before I could assure him I intended to do just that.
“Here, try this one.” Tomas held a knife hilt out to me before I finished cinching the belt.
“Who wore this before me?” I took the knife and tested its weight.
“He never told me. I just know that it is always with him no matter where he is. Will the knife do?”
“It is a bit dull.”
He nodded. “We will stop by the blacksmith’s on the way to practice.” He turned to hail Rathenridge. “Meet you at the field.”
Both Rathenridge and Dentin nodded.
Tomas threw my cloak over my shoulders and led me out into the sunshine again. Despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach and constricting my chest, I couldn’t squash the occasional stray musing about the original owner of the belt and sword at my waist. If I survived this, I intended to persuade Dentin to tell me the story. Something about the fleeting emotion in his eyes hinted at something deeper than simply the respect of one warrior for another.
After a brief stop at the blacksmith’s tent, we arrived at the practice yard. The yard of one of the small houses I had spotted on our first approach to Kyrenton served as a space for the men to warm up. The hard-packed dirt hadn’t succumbed to the snow melting as much as the roads or fields.
In the meadow bordering the cottage guarded by tree skeletons, scattered pairs of men sparred. Others drilled through exercises alone. An angular man passed amid the chaos and mud, leaning heavily on a twisted staff. Spotting us, he made his way toward us.
“My lord.” He bowed quite easily. I tried to guess at his injury, but could find no visible clues beyond his obvious dependence on the wood for balance. “My lady.” His bow to me was equally low.
“How are you, Lolathen?” Tomas respectfully lowered his head in greeting.
“We will have rain before nightfall.” Lolathen tapped his thigh.
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 21