Ayden stopped, surprised. “Why?” he asked.
“I think she fears that the blood you shed will not be enough to overcome Sebastian's corruption.”
If I were to shed only a little blood, then she would be right. Kayeck has demanded all of it.
“It will be enough, Cedric. I—will not stop until the deed is done.” He met Cedric's gaze, allowing the weight of his words to linger in the air. In Cedric's hazel eyes, he saw recognition of Ayden's oblique acknowledgment: even if it took Ayden's death, he would not stop until the Amulet was no more.
Cedric cleared his throat. “Are you certain, Ayden? Absolutely certain?”
And Ayden knew the young Andrachen was not questioning whether the ritual would work, instead asking if Ayden truly meant to sacrifice himself for the sake of the Amulet's destruction.
Ayden paused before his tongue could form the word. “Aye.”
Cedric nodded slowly. He held out his hand, and Ayden grasped his forearm, respect passing between them.
A moment later, Cedric walked away. Kinna appeared behind Ayden, drawing alongside him, and glancing up. She sighed and shook her head. “I—I'm sorry, Ayden. I wish I hadn't lost my temper.”
Ayden's eyes narrowed as he studied her. At last, he spoke. “Are you ready for this, Kinna? Truly ready?”
Her eyes filled with tears, spilling over the rims and down her cheeks, and she shook her head. “No. I'm not, Ayden, but I can't let anyone know that. Helga's gone, and though she trusted Kayeck, I still second-guess everything that Kayeck asks of us. She is so... different from Helga.” She swiped the arm of her tunic over her cheek and sniffed as she gazed into the distance. “Yes, we could have used Julian's help, but I need to be sure he can be trusted. I believe in second chances, just not when an entire army might be the consequence of another betrayal. We don't have enough, Ayden, not even with Sebastian's army deserters, though robbing the bankrolls did help minimally. It would have helped more if we had had more time. The only thing we can hope for is that we can destroy Sebastian's Amulet before we collapse beneath his far superior might. That's it. That's all of it.” She turned her full attention on him. “Promise me that you'll do everything you can to make that happen as soon as you can. A simple cut, a little of your blood, that's all it will take, and then we can be together and be happy. Promise me, Ayden.” She sounded desperate, her voice brittle and shaking.
It will take all of my blood, Kinna. His realization during the Seer Fey Council pounded in Ayden's head as he reached for her and pulled her against his chest, holding her tightly as her tears wet his tunic. Her shoulders shook as he rubbed his hand over her back, soothing her as best he could. At last, he cracked his lips to say what he knew she wished to hear.
“I promise,” he whispered. “I swear it upon my own life.”
When she pulled away, she looked relaxed and peaceful, and Ayden turned away, hiding from her his knowledge of the price she'd asked him to pay. She would know soon enough.
Chapter Fifteen
Cedric
Cedric exited the shelter the forces had set up. No canvas tents and extensive weaponry and carts accompanied the Andrachen twins. They were a rag-tag, loosely put-together force; their only expensive weapons had come with Lord Fellowes's Ongalian soldiers. Lord Fellowes had sent messages that two more nobles had relented and would soon be sending foot-soldiers and some cavalry, but he still hoped for capitulations from at least seven more of the nobility. He would follow soon.
Lanier had found Cedric and Kinna, having chosen the northern route to traverse because of the sparsity of Sebastian's naval patrols. Though they had met with two ships before entering Lismaria, they had decimated the Lismarian vessels with contingents of creatures Lanier had brought along. Now they'd arrived in the Midland Ridges with a respectable force of two thousand foot-soldiers and various creatures who had signed up for war.
Lanier explained that Iolar had remained behind, gathering the dregs of their forces in West Ashwynd and organizing the creatures, preparing to bring them via the northern route as well, entering Lismaria through the Sand Flats, and then winding through the terrain toward the Midland Ridges. Lanier had encountered only small patrols of Sebastian's, who, thanks to Cedric's efforts, were unpaid, and therefore, disloyal, and who had joined Lanier's men as prisoners of war. If they proved themselves, he told Cedric that he hoped to be able to use them in battle against Sebastian. But Iolar, he said, would be days yet, if not weeks, depending on how quickly their forces could move and whether they encountered any companies of Sebastian's men more substantially paid, and therefore, more dangerous.
The additional men had spread for many fieldspans along the eastern slopes of the Midland Ridges. They were still not enough. They could not be enough, not against Sebastian's estimated tens of thousands.
The luxuries of a large army, such as canvas tents and adequate rations, were a mere dream at this point. The small and gathering army Cedric and Kinna had begun to collect in the Midlands had set up branches that leaned against low-hanging boughs, covered with mulch. It wasn't much, but it did protect from the elements. He and Kinna had decided against setting up in the western portion of the Midland Ridges because of the icy conditions of winter—and as Lord Fellowes had told Kinna, they had an advantage if they pressed against the Marshlands of Cayne, where they were able to contain their grounds more effectively. The Marshlands also offered the advantage of a lower altitude, and warmth clung to the still waters. With their lack of provisions and shelter, even small things like temperature degrees made a huge difference.
Cedric took a deep breath, chafing his hands before pulling thick gloves over them. Ashleen's trim figure was disappearing into the woods on the other side of the clearing, and without really meaning to, he started after her.
“Your Grace.”
Cedric stopped and turned. Lanier's dark eyebrows furrowed over equally dark eyes. “Aye?”
“I had hoped to discuss with you and your sister some strategies for placement of our troops.”
Cedric nodded. “Aye, I will come. A few moments, if you please.”
Lanier bowed, and backed away, touching the tiniest glance on Ashleen's figure among the trees. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
Cedric followed Ashleen into the woods at a distance, careful to step quietly through the mulch, thankful again for the comfortable knee-high moccasins she had made for him months ago. Her quiver was slung over her back, and when she paused to listen, Cedric paused, too. A small grin covered his face as he played his game.
She approached a creek that cut through the forest, and on the far side, a deer dug through the bracken for bits of greenery hiding at the roots of a tree. Ashleen froze before sliding softly to her knee. Carefully, she slid an arrow from her quiver, nocking it on her bowstring, smoothly sliding it back as she sighted along the arrow, her supple fingers steady on her bow.
The deer raised his head, his dark eyes gazing up the hill toward Ashleen and beyond, toward Cedric, who held his breath as he pasted himself against a tree.
In a flash, the deer was gone, and Ashleen lowered her bow, sliding her arrow back in the quiver. Getting to her feet, not even turning, she shook her head. “By the Stars, Cedric, you who were raised in a wilderness and should know better—you make more noise than a stampede of Mammoths.”
“I do not,” Cedric defended himself as Ashleen turned to face him.
“You don't use your moccasins to their best effect. Slip silently through the woods, don't tread in them. There's a difference.”
Cedric's mouth twitched in amusement. “Aye, I suppose there is.” He nodded toward the empty bank where the deer had stood only moments earlier. “I apologize for spoiling your supper. Hopefully the other hunters will have better luck.”
“The other hunters will not have to contend with a stampede of Mammoths.”
“Ouch.”
Ashleen hooked her bow over her shoulder, hiking up the hill toward him. She stood on
her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth softly.
Pain rippled through Cedric as he warred with his feelings. Just once more, he promised himself as his eyes slid shut. Once more, before he would have to leave her. She knew the depth of his feelings for her, but she also knew that he could never bring children into the world. Not with his history. Not with his lineage. Not with his name. He allowed his lips to linger on hers, enjoying their velvety softness. He sighed when she stepped back.
She hooked her fingers through his, walking beside him as they meandered back up the hill toward the central camp. “Have you received word of when Sebastian's forces will move?”
“They have already begun,” Cedric said, his thoughts turning dark as he returned to the ever-present shadow of war on the horizon. “Kayeck sent word that she gave Paik, the Seer Fey Grand-Master, a report of mine and my sister's whereabouts in the Midland Ridges. Paik, in turn, told Sebastian, and Sebastian has commanded Jerrus to marshal his troops and push east toward us, prepared for battle.”
Ashleen stopped, her dark eyes studying his face. “But something else is bothering you. What is it?”
“I'm afraid that Sanlia will take part. We have convinced Ongalia—well, half-convinced, anyway—to take up our cause. Their reluctant troops, though, are less than we had hoped for. We had wished for unequivocal support from King Bennjan, but he still refuses to give his command, so it is up to Lord Fellowes to bargain and plead. Sanlia, however, has seemingly forgiven Sebastian his treatment of Nicholas Erlane, and offered him their support. Perhaps it is because of Sebastian's treatment of Erlane; it was well-known that the Sanlians hated Erlane, and that was one reason he was glad to take over the throne of Lismaria and leave his native country upon my father's death.”
“I see,” Ashleen said slowly. “And because Sanlia lies to the east, and Sebastian's forces to the west—”
“They hope to trap us,” Cedric said, “or so I suspect. We will find ourselves retreating toward the Ongalian border in the heat of battle if we cannot overcome the first surges of the enemy, and I fear that the Ongalians are not so vehement in their support that they may not turn on us when they see the might of Sebastian's armies.”
“You have no faith in Lord Fellowes?”
Cedric shook his head. “It is the Ongalian King I do not fully trust. He is curiously cool toward his own grandchildren, almost as if he resents us for our Andrachen blood. He also seems very willing to go with the flow of power. And while Lord Fellowes has the ability to use his discretion with his own men, he is still the King's servant and can be called back should Bennjan decide to issue an executive command.”
“Kinna said that Lord Fellowes once loved your mother.”
“Still does, from what I can tell.”
Their footsteps through the underbrush were the only sound for a moment. Ashleen glanced up at Cedric. “That's sweet.”
“What?” Cedric asked.
“I mean, sweet in a sad sort of way. Your mother has been gone for many years, Cedric, and he still loves her as if she were right here.”
Cedric didn't answer. He looked down where their hands linked them, and he stopped suddenly. “Ashleen?”
Her dark gaze was turned curiously toward him. “Aye?”
“What if we left—you and I—and went somewhere else, somewhere different? Made a new start where no one knew of us or of my heritage or of Sebastian or Liam or the Amulet or anything?” Where his history could not follow him. Where he and Ashleen could be alone, with no expectations, with no Amulet boring into his consciousness, with no necessity to rule and fight his father and uncle's demons.
Ashleen hesitated. “You've mentioned this before, Cedric. Do you mean—leave Kinna to rule alone, supposing she wins against Sebastian?”
Cedric nodded eagerly, gathering Ashleen's hand to his chest, his gaze intent. “Aye, just so. Kinna is more than capable of handling West Ashwynd and Lismaria, and with Ayden by her side—there is no need for me to step into the role of King, is there? We could be free to go, not saddled with responsibilities and the baggage of a kingdom deeply divided beneath Sebastian. Not riddled with expectations, not influenced by a degraded power source turned evil by my father.”
“But we are to destroy the Amulet.”
“I will never be free of it, Ashleen.” Cedric fought back Helga's voice that lightly teased his mind. You take yourself too seriously, Cedric Andrachen. Release your demons; they will no longer torment you when the Amulet is gone. It was impossible. He could not let them go.
Ashleen's gaze dropped to Cedric's chest, and her fingertips lightly traced over the spot that was still sore from where the Amulet had hung, burning into Cedric's skin. “Where is all this coming from, Cedric?”
“What do you mean?”
“These thoughts of escape. From where do they come?”
Cedric had gotten so caught up in his vision of a life free of the Amulet and its burdens, of him and Ashleen wandering the great unknown with Ember and Sperah, their psuche partners, that he hadn't realized that Ashleen's eyes did not glow with the same depth of hope and fervor that burned in his mind.
He sighed heavily and dropped her hand, turning back toward the camp. “From nowhere.” He shook his head. “From your mention of Lord Fellowes and the sweet, naive love he'd had for my mother for so very long. It made me wish—for simpler things.” He took a step up the hill. “But I see that it cannot be.”
Ashleen's hand caught his again. “Wait, Cedric.”
“What?” Cedric snapped. He turned, half-expecting her to scold him, but the tears that moistened her lashes paused his frustration. “What is it?” he asked more softly.
“I see your burdens, Cedric.” Ashleen pressed a hand to her heart and moved closer to him, sliding her hands over his chest, gripping his tunic. “I see them, and I feel them, too. You are not so far removed from me that I cannot understand what it is like to lose a father, a family, to be expected to assume a role for which I have no desire, and to be chained to that role for years with no end in sight.” She sniffed, her natural tan doing nothing to hide the crimson blotches that appeared in her cheeks as she struggled with her emotions. “But you, Cedric—you have the power to do so much good with your position—chained though you feel to it. Don't lose sight of that!”
“Don't lose sight of it!” Cedric repeated, defensively pulling away from her. “My father lost sight of it. Sebastian lost sight of it—if he ever had sight of the good he could do. We've talked about this before, Ashleen, and I know all the reasoning. I know you think I'm strong, that I can step in and take my father's role and overcome the powerful draw of the Amulet.” He tried to keep going, but his voice broke. “I'm not, Ashleen.” He couldn't see her anymore behind his own haze of tears. “I'm Cedric, with nothing special to add to that name. I'm not some great taibos or a Seer Fey or anyone with a gift for anything but a penchant for Dragons and a minor quirk that makes the creatures listen to me when I give them an order—a quirk I hate, by the way, because it seems demeaning to such intelligent creatures.” He swiped his tunic sleeve over his eyes and crossed his arms. “I—don't belong on the throne. Kinna would do a much better job. Let her rule without me.”
Cedric met Ashleen's gaze, and her black eyes didn't waver. “Kinna, lovely and capable as she is, Cedric, is only half of Helga's plan, only half of what it would take to restore the Andrachen seed to the throne. You are the other half, and without you, a country would be missing a ruler.” She lifted her chin and stepped up the hill toward him. “You can't ignore it, Cedric. You can't forget about it, and you can't run away from it. It simply is. It is yours to take and your role to live out for the rest of your days.”
“Small comfort,” Cedric said bitterly.
“It would be small comfort if you, like Sebastian, rid yourself of all friends years ago and lived only to manipulate and torment those in closest contact with you. But you are not alone, Cedric. Look at Kinna. Look at Ayden. Look at Ember, Lincoln, Marigold, L
anier, Iolar, Helga, who died for you. Even Kayeck. Look—at me.”
Cedric took Ashleen's hand again in his and turned it palm-side up, touching the roughened skin with his lips. Gently, he folded her fingers over where he'd touched. “I have, Ashleen, and I haven't looked away since,” he whispered.
Despite all his promises he'd made to himself, he pulled her close and kissed her with all the spirit and passion that warred inside him.
Cedric stepped into the sheltered area beneath great overhanging spruce boughs where Lanier and Tristan, Kinna's adoptive father who had accompanied Lanier into Lismaria, had set up a command post of sorts. He could see through the slats of branches that leaned against a lower bough to some of the Dragons that roamed the woods. They were the first arrivals from the Great Dragons of Ongalia. More would arrive as Sebastian moved eastward. Lord Fellowes had sent another message that morning, promising four more nobles and their men. He meant to persuade two more if he could.
Cedric shoved aside his doubts. Lord Fellowes had already produced more soldiers for them than they had hoped after King Bennjan's original refusal.
Kinna glanced up from the map that lay in front of her, Tristan, and Lanier. “Cedric, Ashleen, come look at this.”
Cedric drew close to the stump that served as a table. A yellowed, much-wrinkled parchment lay unfurled on it, and various colored pebbles and bits of twigs dotted it for markers.
“What is it?” he asked.
“You mentioned that you were concerned about the Sanlians. It turns out that you had good reason to be so. Chennuh and Luasa scouted to the southeast over the Dreadwood Forest. They brought back news that the Sanlian army is mustering, marching west.” She pointed to four twigs Lanier had placed along Sanlia's western border.
Unleash the Inferno (Heart of a Dragon Book 3) Page 27