Rider of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  Arms, lifting her up. “Imogen, Imogen, sweetheart, look at me,” Jeffrey said. She opened her eyes and blinked at him. It must be the blood loss that made him seem so far away. “She said you were dead. Did she injure you? All right, I see it, just—how stupid, I was going to say ‘stay right there’—”

  He went away, and she heard a tearing sound, then he came back and pressed a wad of cloth into her side. “Can you hold that? You, yes, both of you, get her to the infirmary immediately. Now!”

  Two sets of hands supported her to her feet and helped her walk. Her vision was clearing. “I guess we won,” she murmured.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  She wouldn’t have made it down the steps to the ballroom without their help. Cots occupied every inch of space that wasn’t taken up by bedrolls. Her assistants half-carried her to a bedroll and helped her lie down. That was so much better. The ceiling, high above, was painted to look like a starry, moonless night. How strange that she’d been in here so many times and never thought to look up.

  “Let’s have a look,” said a woman wearing a doctor’s tunic, and removed the cloth from Imogen’s clutching fingers. She bit back a yelp when the woman accidentally jabbed her side. “Sorry about that. We can have it packed and stitched in no time. Edmund, bring my kit over here, please! I don’t have anything for the pain, it has to go to the more desperate cases, so I apologize for how this will hurt.”

  It hurt, but not badly, and when the deep wound had been packed with gauze and bandaged Imogen felt so much better. She lay staring at the starry sky, working out familiar constellations, until Dorenna said, “Some people will do anything for a lie-down, won’t they?” She sat down by Imogen’s head.

  “I see your brains are still where they should be,” Imogen said.

  “Nice that you acknowledge I have some. Kionnal’s going to be fine in a few weeks. Probably piss red for a while¸ but the doctor was able to patch him up. Saevonna isn’t doing quite as well. Got hit in the chest and it collapsed her left lung. She’s waiting on the palace healer, who seems well past overworked…Imogen, Marcus is with her.”

  “Good. She needs that kind of support, given that we seem to have abandoned her.”

  “No, it’s…she…. He asked her again, and she said yes.” Dorenna clenched her fists in her lap. “She’s staying here.”

  Imogen felt as if Diana’s sword tore through her body again. “It makes sense,” she said, her voice wobbly. “It’s the best choice for her.”

  “It’s a stupid choice,” Dorenna said. “What is she supposed to do here? Sit around and have his babies and tend his house and never fight again? We are what she is, Imogen, and she’s going to regret this choice forever!”

  “Dorenna, keep your voice down!”

  “We have to stop her, Imo. She has to see reason.”

  “Dor, stop. You know Saevonna. She never does anything without thinking it through.”

  “She’s also sickeningly optimistic. She sees her handsome lover and thinks because they’re in love, it will make everything all right. It doesn’t work that way.”

  A tear trickled down the side of Imogen’s face. “You haven’t been paying attention. She’s thriving here, Dor. It’s not just Marcus. She speaks the language and she’s comfortable with the society. It’s like there was this whole side of her waiting to appear.”

  “But she’s Kirkellan. That’s no less her than this ridiculous fantasy.”

  “She had to choose. She didn’t choose—” Imogen’s throat closed on the words. She swallowed, painfully, and said, “She didn’t choose us. And we can’t make her change her mind.”

  “I thought I could count on you in this.”

  “I’m not going to tell Saevonna how to live her life. And you aren’t either. How happy will she be if we force her to stay with us?”

  “But she’s going to regret it!”

  “That’s not our concern.”

  Dorenna scowled. “Imogen, you’re not going to lie there and tell me you think she really made the right decision? Leaving behind everything she knows?”

  Another tear crawled after the first. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better figure it out,” Dorenna said, “because I’ll bet my horse your King is going to ask you the same question.”

  “Dor, I—”

  “I can’t talk about this any longer, Imogen, I’m sorry.” She pushed herself to her feet and almost ran away. Imogen lifted herself on one elbow and watched her go, then lay back and wiped the wet trail from her cheek.

  That wasn’t a bet she would take. She was certain Jeffrey loved her and was equally certain he wouldn’t want her to leave when her year was up. Her own feelings were far less certain. Yes, she cared for him; yes, if she had to she could make a life for herself in Tremontane. But the idea of leaving the wild plains, of condemning Victory to a life on hard cobblestones and laps around the parade ground…. She closed her eyes tight and clenched her fists. It will be easier, she thought, if I can keep him from asking the question. Maybe mother will understand this, if I tell her I need to come home early. Then she thought of leaving Aurilien, of leaving him and Elspeth and Owen and Alison behind, and her heart ached. There would be no easy choice. Better all around if he didn’t ask the question.

  “Are you in pain? I’m sure they can give you something for that.” She opened her eyes and saw Jeffrey bending over her. She shook her head and relaxed her fists. He still looked terrible, even upside-down as he appeared from this perspective, and her heart beat faster at the sight of him.

  “I am only thinking of not pleasant things. I do not hurt much.”

  “I’m glad. What not-pleasant things?”

  “They are not pleasant so I think I will not tell you. And I feel better to see you.”

  He sat cross-legged on the floor near her head and took her hand in his. “When she told me she’d killed you, I didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe she could overpower a warrior like you—but she was so triumphant…and then you appeared in the doorway and I felt all that fear and uncertainty just disappear.”

  “You killed her. It is a good thing.”

  “I’ve never felt so certain of anything in my life. It felt as though—no, never mind.”

  “That is not a no never mind face.”

  He sighed. “It felt as though I was finally King in my own right, and not because of my father. It just seems callous for that feeling to come at the cost of someone’s life.”

  “You have always been King in your own right. You have only just learned it is true. When you tell them, drop your weapons now, I hear it and they hear it in your voice. And I am callous too because I think if Diana does anything good with her life it can at least be to make you see truth finally.”

  He laughed. “Madam ambassador, you are very wise.”

  “I only tell you what is true. If that is wise, then I must be wise.”

  “I depend on you to tell me the truth.” He smiled at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Then he looked up at something she couldn’t see, and said, “I have to go now. I’ll see you later.”

  Hrovald. “Then I am coming too,” she said, and struggled to stand. Jeffrey pressed her back down onto the bedroll with ease.

  “You’re in no condition to fight,” he said. “You need to stay put.”

  “This wound is nothing. It is a scratch.”

  “You won’t do me any good if you collapse again.”

  “Then I will not collapse. Move your arm.”

  Jeffrey swore and stood up. “I won’t help you.”

  “I do not need help.” She stood and the room turned a slow circle around her. She felt Jeffrey’s hands support her. “You said you would not help,” she said faintly.

  “You said you wouldn’t collapse.” His face swam into focus in front of her. “Imogen, this is madness.”

  “Do you have enough soldiers that you can waste even this one?”

  “I—” He looked over her
shoulder again. “I really do have to go. For the last time, will you please rest?”

  “I will rest when I have received my orders.”

  He sighed. “Then you might as well come with me. Fred—damn.” His eyes went distant. “I keep forgetting Fred is gone. Colonel Haverson’s a good man, but…well.” He offered Imogen his arm. “Don’t think this means I approve of you trying to kill yourself,” he said.

  She patted his hand. “I will show you I am well enough when I cut down my enemies before me.”

  “If we do this right, it won’t come to that,” Jeffrey said.

  Imogen held herself straight in the saddle. Her side throbbed, but no one needed to know that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t conceal it from Victory, who jigged restlessly and had to be calmed every five minutes.

  “Glad to be back where you belong?” Revalan said.

  “Ready to wet my blade with Ruskalder blood, is more like it.”

  “It does feel more natural, fighting them,” Kallum said. “I rather like some of these Tremontanans.”

  “Not as much as some people do,” Dorenna muttered. Imogen glared at her. They hadn’t told the rest of the tiermatha what Saevonna had chosen. No point distracting them from the job at hand.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Dorenna said. “I hate waiting, is all.”

  “You understand the best outcome is for us not to fight at all?” Imogen said.

  Dorenna scowled. “Best for who?”

  “You’re bloodthirsty today,” Kallum remarked.

  “You didn’t have to sit out the last fight thanks to a purely imaginary injury.”

  “You were seeing double,” Areli said, “and bumping into things and apologizing to things that weren’t there.”

  “Fine. It was a real injury. The point is now I’m better and I’m ready to do what we do best.”

  Imogen petted Victory again. Fighting was what she did best. The life of the ambassador seemed so far away she could barely remember what it was like, let alone compare it with that of the warrior. She remembered the heat of battle filling her skin to bursting with power, but instead of joy at the memory she felt only emptiness. Impatience overcame her, and she said “Wait here” to her company and trotted toward the main gate. She didn’t have any reason to be there, but she needed to move, needed to do something to keep from driving herself crazy.

  The defenders had closed the iron-banded, iron-studded gates and levered two vast wooden bars into place to hold them shut. Soldiers ran up and down the stone stairs on either side of the gate that led to the top of the city wall. Riflemen took up positions behind hastily erected wooden battlements that lined the wall-walk. Marcus might be one of them, though he could just as likely be at one of the other two gates. Imogen thought of Saevonna, still lying in the infirmary, and of Kionnal, whose condition was just bad enough that the doctor had forbidden him to rise. She’d tried to prevent Imogen from leaving too, but Jeffrey had said, “Don’t bother, doctor, she’s too stubborn to make it worth your while,” and Imogen had held her head straight and pretended not to be in pain until the room was far behind them.

  Colonel Haverson looked up as she approached with a faintly puzzled expression. “Can I help you with something, commander?” Haverson was a slender man with a slender mustache whose pale brown eyes never settled on anything for more than a few seconds.

  Imogen cast about for something to say. “I am just curious about the defenses,” she said, hoping she sounded confident.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to fight on foot? This strategy seems pretty dangerous,” he said.

  “We are more comfortable in the saddle and there is not enough room for all of us at the gate or on the wall. We are…experienced at harrying a larger force. Do not worry about us.”

  “I saw you Kirkellan in action the first time we faced this bastard. I’d believe just about anything of you. We should have the runners here shortly. Good luck, commander.”

  He saluted her, and she returned the gesture and rode directly up to the gate. It certainly looked solid enough to keep out an attack, but Hrovald, no doubt furious at his earlier humiliation, would be even more determined than Diana to have his revenge. Could Hrovald turn those thick-trunked trees with their curving branches into battering rams? She went close enough to the gate to lay her palm against it. No, it would hold. It had to hold long enough for the Tremontanan Army to reach them. As confident as she’d sounded talking to Haverson, she wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea for their diminished company to assault Hrovald’s army from behind. They would be like gnats worrying a stallion’s flank. But it was either that or wait, impatient and useless, as part of the masses of foot soldiers preparing to defend the gates and walls, and Kirkellan were not, in general, good at waiting for things.

  She rode back to her tiermatha, sadly reduced now, and the other tiermathas under her temporary command. “Try to stay focused,” she told them. “When Hrovald’s army arrives, it’s likely he’ll set all his warriors at the main gate, but runners will come from the other two to report on whether he’s striking at them as well. We’ll clear one of those smaller gates and use it to attack his flank—out of the gate, make our run, then back for a breather. When the Army gets here, we’ll provide as much support as we can. But it may be some time before they arrive, so rest, eat something, walk around on your own feet for a bit.”

  “You going to take your own advice? You’re awfully keyed up,” Areli said as warriors dismounted all around them.

  “Just eager for the fight to start.”

  “I think she’s afraid if she dismounts, she’ll fall over,” Kallum said, eyeing her speculatively.

  “I will not. I’m not badly injured. Everyone needs to stop making such a fuss.”

  A murmur went up from the battlements. All heads turned in that direction. “Here it comes,” Imogen whispered.

  They waited for an agonizing eternity before a roar went up from outside the gates. Imogen glanced at Revalan; the sound was familiar to them, but another murmur went up from the soldiers manning the wall-walk, this one with an edge of fear to it. Imogen cantered to the gate and rode back and forth across the road, shouting, “They are just men! They will bleed and die at your swords! You are soldiers of Tremontane and you will not fall!”

  Another roar went up, ragged but loud, this time from the defenders. “Make them fear you!” Imogen screamed, and the defenders on the wall and the men and women waiting on the ground roared out with one voice, shouting defiance at the enemy.

  Imogen returned to her tiermatha, and said, “What?”

  “You know what,” Kallum said. “You realize they have leaders for that sort of thing, right?”

  “Leaders who don’t know enough about the Ruskalder to know how to respond. They needed my help.”

  Dorenna scowled. “You’re not one of them, Imo.”

  “You think the Ruskalder are going to let us walk out of here unharmed just because we aren’t Tremontanans?”

  “I think you’ve forgotten—” Dorenna began hotly.

  Areli punched her on the arm. “Shut up,” she said. “The Ruskalder army is about to overrun this place. Let’s fight them and not each other.”

  “No, I want to hear this,” Imogen said, pitching her voice over the sound of rifle fire and the shouts of fighters on both sides of the gate. She took hold of Rapier’s reins just above where Dorenna held them bunched loosely in her fist and tugged. “What have I forgotten, Dorenna?”

  Dorenna cast a bitter glance at Areli. “You think like a Tremontanan now,” she said. “You’ve already made your choice.”

  She felt as if she’d been slapped. “What did you just say?”

  “I told you to shut up, Dorenna,” Areli warned.

  “Why, because I’m the only one willing to point it out? You weren’t acting like a foreign auxiliary in that palace battle, Imo. You were planning strategy and giving orders like any other Tremontanan captain. You’ve
already picked a side. You’re just not willing to admit it.”

  Imogen barely kept herself from striking her. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know my own mind,” she snarled. “You and Areli were the ones who told me I should pursue him. Didn’t it occur to you this is where it might lead?”

  “I sure as hell didn’t think it would lead to you forgetting who you are.”

  “What is wrong with you, Dor? Battle’s been joined and you want to pick a fight over some hypothetical future choice I’m going to make?”

  “Because it shouldn’t even be a choice!” Dorenna’s face was flushed and furious. “You are Kirkellan, Imo, not some skirt-wearing city dweller. I don’t care how well you think you’ve adapted, this is not who you are. You think love is going to be enough to make up for everything you’d have to leave behind, your family, your tiermatha, your training? It’s not true for Saevonna and it’s a hundred times worse for you.”

  “Wait, what about Saevonna?” Revalan said.

  Imogen ignored him. “I am not in love—”

  Dorenna threw up her hands. “Thundering heaven, Imogen, would you for the love of all that is holy wake up and take a look at your life? You are in love with Jeffrey North and you look to be the only one who doesn’t know it.”

  Imogen looked at the others, stunned. Revalan wouldn’t meet her eyes. Kallum shrugged and nodded. Areli reached out to grasp Imogen’s hand. “It’s really obvious,” she said.

  “Think,” Dorenna pleaded. “You don’t belong here. None of us do.”

  Imogen shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Then explain it to me. Explain it so I can understand how you can even contemplate choosing him over us.”

  “It has nothing to do with Jeffrey,” Imogen began.