She listened. Branches cracked further behind her now. There was no way she could cut across anyone’s sight without them noticing her. She could hide under the branches of the tree and hope that they walked past her. That would leave the kids undefended. They didn’t even have real swords!
Bethany jiggled the daggers in each of their scabbards – all seven – to ensure they had not seized up from frost. She put the swords on the ground and primed her bow. She might only have training arrows, but they could still give a bloody eye if aimed right on target.
Whoever was in the woods was failing to be stealthy. Birds continued to be disturbed, branches and fallen logs snapped and groaned under the weight of people stepping on them. Amateurs. She wouldn’t shoot blind, however, in case.
Three of them only a few paces away. Bethany raised her bow, stretching the string. She didn’t flinch when wet snow fell from an overhead branch and hit her head, sliding down the back of her head, seeping into her jacket, though an involuntary shiver went through her.
Bethany released the arrow and it plunked against a tree, bouncing into the snow.
Stupid tree. Bethany grabbed another arrow to fire again.
A man shrieked and shouted, “Apexia’s flaming tits! Arrows!”
The voice sounded oddly familiar but she shrugged it off. She released the second. Another tree trunk. She shook her head. Bloody trees!
The men stormed through the woods, spread out, pressing towards her location. She vaulted from her location and rushed the first man, a tall, dark fellow, and sliced his bicep with her dagger. Ducking from the thick branch he carried, she kicked the back of his knees. He stumbled to the ground. Several jumped her from behind, knocking her face-first into the snow. A woman landed on her dagger and screamed.
Bethany kicked wildly and swung her head back, slamming into a face that was too close to her. Blood sprayed the snow.
“Fucking whore,” the man said, spitting on her. She continued to kick until she rolled to her side. She had no idea why they didn’t just kill her, but she took advantage of their hesitation. She swung her daggers. She didn’t connect with flesh; the men jumped off her enough to allow her to push herself to her feet. She dropped a dagger and grabbed a sword from her back, all the while dancing in a circle, readying herself for the plunge.
Her heart pounded. She could not fight off eight men, some who were significantly bigger than herself. She didn’t see the short, stocky man until it was too late. He hit her in the gut with the pummel of his sword and her breakfast automatically spilled out of her, splattered the snow. Bethany staggered and fell to her knees.
“Stop, she’s an elf!” one of the men shouted.
Bethany spat and used the stunned silence to grab the short man’s pant leg and throw him to the ground. The man gasped and gurgled, hitting and kicking her. She cocked her head. “Edmund Greyfeather?”
She did not have time to process it. Something smacked into the side of her head. The world whirled and then turned black.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When strength fails her, she must turn her eyes from the darkness and look upon the light.
-Prophecy of the Diamond, Second Tablet
“I didn’t mean to hit her that hard.” Crouching, Arrago stared at an unconscious Bethany and then back at Edmund. His insides knotted and too many emotions to count rushed through him, battling for dominance. Bethany! Great Apexia. It really was her.
Edmund bent down and patted Bethany’s face. “Hey, red-headed whore! Wake up! I wanna fuck you.”
“Edmund!” Arrago growled.
“Just making sure she isn’t faking it.” Edmund sucked in a breath. “She’s going to be really angry when she wakes, isn’t she?”
Arrago cringed, remembering the many, many times Bethany took her anger out on his face during training. “Oh, yeah.”
Edmund patted Arrago on the shoulder and then used that shoulder to help push himself upright. “When she kills you, I’ll ensure you have a proper burial and will continue the fight in your honor.”
“Me! You hit her in the guts!” Arrago shook Bethany once more. A slight moan from her, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. She was alive. “She doesn’t even like you.”
Edmund folded his arms. “You seduced her and then ran away with me.”
Arrago opened his mouth to speak but shut it.
Arrago heard rustling and stood. He didn’t see anyone, but could see branches moving and birds taking flight. “Knights! Peace! We are friends!”
Seconds later, several well-armed soldiers bolted from the tree cover, weapons drawn. A short human stared at Bethany’s unconscious body and squared his shoulders, his grip tightening on a large axe.
Arrago backed up, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “Accident.”
Then, a tall, lanky man emerged from the trees. Though his face was mostly covered by a helmet, Arrago recognized him anywhere. “Erem?”
Erem nodded before his gaze fell to the still unconscious Bethany, laying in a pile of bloody snow, none of it hers. His eyes turned cold.
“She’s alive.” Arrago shook his head. “It was an accident.”
“What happened?”
“I hit her with a shovel.”
“A shovel?” Erem asked, before pulling off his gauntlets and undid his helmet strap, lifting the metal bucket off his head. He stepped up to Bethany and looked at her, before cocking an eyebrow at Arrago. Arrago could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
“She was strangling Edmund,” Arrago said lamely. “We were trying not to hurt her, but she’s really strong.”
Erem looked down at Bethany again, before barking out laugher. He held out a hand of friendship, which Arrago accepted. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
“You, as well,” Arrago said and realized one of the higher Silver Knights had just called him a friend. Perhaps they had forgiven him for what he’d done to Bethany.
“Shit, Arrago.” Erem pointed at Bethany. “She’s going to rip your limbs off.”
Arrago sighed as two of the Knights bent down to rouse her. A traitorous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Bethany was alive. Apexia’s breath, he had missed her. “What else is new?”
***
When Bethany opened her eyes, she was wet, cold, sore, and staring at Arrago. She blinked away the hallucination. His sheepish grin remained. Bethany closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened again. Her heart thudded. Her worst nightmare, staring at her.
“Arrago Cedar,” she said in a crisp, precise tone.
Erem appeared in her vision, hand extended. She accepted the help and staggered to her feet. Snow slipped between the cracks of her outfit and slid down her warm flesh, leaving a melted, icy stream. The cold air pressed against her, sending chills down her spine. Or, perhaps it was Arrago’s presence that caused the shivered and clenched muscles. The air between them rivaled the frigid Taftlin winter.
“Edmund Greyfeather?” Bethany asked.
The young man gave a curt nod.
“Ah. Didn’t I break your ribs once?” She looked down at the bloody spot on her coat and rubbed the stinging area. She clenched her teeth and leaned toward. “Did you stab me?”
“Ah, accident.”
“Hmm.”
“There’s been a lot of those lately,” Erem said, mirth in his voice.
Bethany glared at Erem, who paid no notice to her. “Let’s head back into town.” She looked at Arrago, his expression pensive. “We have a lot to discuss.”
With that, Bethany marched purposefully toward the village, though her balance waivered precociously several times. A raging, stabbing pain filled her neck and the back of her head, not to mention the stinging of what was probably a small cut, and the bruises and nicks from having fought the idiots who’d attacked her.
With the training exercises and forest coppicing, a compact path had been beaten into the snow and Bethany took to it, using her long stride to stay ahead of A
rrago. Childish, perhaps. Unprofessional, definitely. She did not care at the moment.
Her emotions waged a war against her sense and she battled against the forces of what had been her affection for the man. Goddess on the wind, she had loved the man. The hatred in her belly whispered that perhaps she still did. Only love could produce the kind of hatred she felt.
She destroyed her inner voice, stabbing it with logic until it ceased twitching. Arrago had left her. He’s shared her bed and the intimacy of her embrace, and he had abandoned her to face a destroyed life and home. He’d tricked her into exposing her emotions and he trampled them.
Never again.
Rage boiled inside her and Bethany clenched her fists, her stride bordering on a jog. She hated him. She hated herself for ever caring for him. And most of all, she hated her heart for wondering if he still thought of her in the midst of a war.
In silence, she led them back to the war tent on the outskirts of town, allowing Erem to do his job as her second. Behind her, she could hear him filling Arrago in on the details of the war, their supply challenges, their losses, and updating him on the situation back at the temple. She wanted no part of it.
However, when she stepped past her guards and inside the tent she shared with Jovan, she put aside her personal feelings. Sentiment had no place in war, and she left it where it belonged: outside.
Once inside the warm tent, it took a moment for Bethany to adjust her vision to the lower light. Off to the side, Jovan leaned over a cloth map draped across the large desk in front of him. He looked up and said, “Hey, Beth, how did the training—” His eyes roamed over her. “What happened to you?”
“We have guests,” Bethany said and stepped aside. Through the corner of her eye, she could see Arrago duck inside the tent. She raised her eyebrows at Jovan, a warning to be on his best behavior. Jovan blew out a breath.
“Erem, fetch Kiner and Eve,” Bethany said, looking over her shoulder. She caught Arrago’s eye; they both looked away.
Steady, Bethany.
“I’m already here,” Eve said, her silky voice fading in through the leather and bough layers of the tent. She stepped inside, Kiner behind her. “Oh, Arrago!” she said, her voice breathless. She glanced at Bethany, who felt her cheeks flush. “Um, wow. Hello.”
There they stood. The Tranquility Trio, along with Eve and Erem. Across from them stood Arrago and Edmund. The silence lingered, no one sure what to say.
With his usual charm, Arrago cleared his throat and said, “Eve. Jovan. Kiner. It’s good to see you all again.” He took several steps up to Jovan.
Jovan’s expression remained guarded, though he accepted Arrago’s outstretched hand. “It’s been too long.”
“You remember Edmund Greyfeather,” Arrago said, motioning at the short man next to him.
Jovan nodded and Bethany remained silent, equal parts amusement and annoyance that Arrago was addressing Jovan and not her. Then again, up until she took over the Silver Knights, Jovan did outrank her. Arrago wouldn’t have realized she was in charge.
“I’m grateful that you didn’t kill Edmund back at the temple. He’s turned out to be useful.” Arrago awkwardly chuckled at his own comment.
Edmund, for his part, laughed too loud for the situation. But it was forced, and the laughter died as fast as it began. The hurt and anger hung in the air like a guillotine waiting to snap and cut them all.
Introductions weren’t necessary; they all knew each other. And Bethany decided it was time to stand up to Arrago, or more precisely, her feelings for Arrago. “Thank you for searching us out. Are you camped nearby?” There. Civil and respectful. Bethany was proud of herself.
“The location of my camp is not up for discussion,” Arrago said coldly. “At least, not until I know why you wanted to meet with me. I doubt it was a social call.”
Jovan cleared his throat. He eyed Bethany, as if to say “He’s all yours.”
“We understand you’ve both been busy.” Bethany leaned against Jovan’s desk, crossing her arms. “We’d like to join forces with you.”
Arrago crossed his arms and leaned back on one foot, mimicking her gesture. “If we succeed, will you leave my country or will you hunt me down if I make a decision that isn’t to the Silver Knights’ liking?”
Bethany did not recognize the Arrago before her. He’d been hardened by battle, true, but it was more than that. He’d found his voice, his strength, and was fighting for something he believed in.
He’d become a leader.
A small, fierce pride filled her and, for the briefest moment, she saw the flicker of what a long, near-forgotten vision had shown her of Arrago’s possible future.
A crown in the mud.
Bethany shook off the memory from a vision too long ago, from a world that stopped existing the moment her home had been destroyed. Vision, prophecy, it didn’t matter. War was no time for personal indulgences.
“Arrago, you misunderstand my offer. We are not here to rule Taftlin.”
“Besides,” Jovan added in a mockingly-serious tone, “I only depose kingdoms in warm climates.”
Bethany let out an awkward chuckle. They all used to be friends before, and they needed to learn to laugh together again. But Arrago did not smile, nor laugh. He glared at her and his eyes narrowed into an angry, fuming expression.
“I don’t appreciate jokes about the invasion of my homeland,” Arrago said, his words laced with the threat of violence. “If that is why you are here, say so at once. I am already fighting one king. I’m fine with adding a few elves into that stew pot.”
Bethany stepped closer to Arrago and reached a hand back to rest on the hilt of a Blessed Blade. “Arrago Cedar, are you threatening me?”
He shrugged, and turned it into a belligerent, arrogant gesture with his words. “That depends on you, Lady Champion Bethany.” He looked at Jovan and said, “I am a guest by the invitation of the Silver Knights. I will not have my homeland insulted by their commander, even if he was once an old friend.”
“It was a joke,” Jovan said, his hands extended in a penitent gesture. “I meant no harm by it.”
“Is it? I’m finding it hard to tell.”
Bethany took a deep breath, ready to blast Arrago with months of hurt and anger, when Eve stepped between them.
“Let’s start again,” Eve said and extended a hand to Arrago. “I have missed your company. It is good to see you alive and well,” she gave him a sly grin. “Though more muscular than last I saw you. It appears rebellion suits you.”
And just like that, Bethany’s anger evaporated. Arrago had done nothing wrong. He was playing his part, and she needed to let him do so.
Arrago flushed and he accepted her outstretched arm. “I’d rather be back at the temple, getting yelled at by Bet—” He stumbled over her name, as thought he’d forgotten his guard. Then, he grew serious again. “I never had the opportunity to thank you for healing me after…the temple.” His gaze shifted in Bethany’s direction for a moment. “When I first received word that you’d broken through the barrier, I wasn’t sure any of you wanted to see me again.”
“Apexia’s holy arse, Arrago! We fought together in battle. You are always welcome,” Jovan said and grabbed Arrago.
Arrago’s ears redden as he gasped for air.
“There. The air is clear between us all, right?” Jovan shot Bethany a warning glare.
Despite her heart pounding in her chest and her near overwhelming desire to choke Arrago —and now Jovan—with her bare hands, Bethany smiled. “We’re all here for the same purpose. The destruction of Daniel’s Magic support. Personal grievances have no place in this tent.”
The looks on everyone’s faces said that they were expecting more.
“It is good to see you. Alive,” she added, her words clipped.
That was the best she had inside her, though. In the old days, she would have just yelled and screamed and have been done with it. But Arrago opened a new kind of wound that she had nev
er encountered before.
“Thank you, Bethany. How kind,” Arrago said, a sly grin forming on his face. She had forgotten how much she missed that wicked smile of his.
Jovan clasped his hands together. “And they said that we couldn’t all be friends again. Now that our blood is all boiling, let’s talk war, shall we?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Destiny lurks in shadows, hidden from the easy path.
-Prophecy of the Diamond, Second Tablet
They plotted, rebels and invaders.
The first week was the hardest, Bethany found. That wasn’t a fact unique to this campaign, but for every battle, real or training. The vast organization needed to get ten thousand soldiers and half as many civilians organized, settled, and fed was overwhelming. Even with a century of practice, both as the gutter dredge to being the senior Knight on site, it was still predictably difficult. Her tent was a swarm of activity, with Celeste Clover, Jon Black Crow, Arrago, Jovan, and too many others in and out helping organize the war effort, and her patience was nearing an end.
“When will this snow stop?” Bethany asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“In about five months,” Jon answered.
Bethany swore. “Is it going to get colder?”
Celeste nodded. “A lot colder and soon. If you don’t do something, you’ll lose at least half of your people to frostbite and freezing.”
“Suggestions?” Bethany asked. “There’s no possible way we can cut down enough wood to make leans, and frankly those aren’t good enough for the cold that’s about to hit us, is it?”
“No,” Jon said, shaking his head. “But Her Grace and I have been speaking with Amber and your sister and I think we have a plan.”
Glad I put those two in charge of coordinating civilian needs. Anything to keep Lendra out of trouble and under a watchful eye. “I’m listening.”
“Elven tents are too thin for the cold and snow, plus you don’t have nearly enough of them. However, we also don’t have enough time to build another hundred huts, either, to house everyone.”
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