by Nora Roberts
“Ah.” Brows knit, he scratched his head over it. “There are toilets of sorts in the family wing, and latrines for the castle guards. But they’re not what you’d be used to.”
“I’ll make do. Bathing?”
“The shower.” He said it wistfully. “I miss it already. I can have a tub brought up, and water heated. Or there’s the river.”
“Okay, that’s a start.” She didn’t need plush, Blair thought. She just needed, well, reasonable. “Now we have to talk about training.”
“Let’s talk about it over food.” He took her arm, pulling her from the room so she wouldn’t argue while his stomach was rumbling.
There were spiced apples Larkin seemed particularly fond of, and chunks of potatoes fried in, she assumed, the fat of the thick slices of ham that accompanied them. The tea was black as pitch, and nearly had the same kick as coffee.
“I miss the Coke as well,” he commented.
“Going to have to suck that one up.”
While the room was smaller than the parlor had been, it was still large enough to fit the big oak table, a couple of enormous servers, and chests she imagined held linens and dishware.
“Does a drawbridge work like a door?” she wondered. “To keep them out,” she explained when Larkin gave her a questioning smile. “Do they need an invitation to come into the castle compound? We’d better deal with that, cover our ass. Hoyt and Glenna should be able to come up with something.”
“We have a few days.”
“If Lilith sticks to the schedule. Either way, we’ve got our work cut out for us. Organizing, getting civilians transported from the battle area. Hoyt and Glenna might want to try that vamp-free-zone spell, but I have to say, I don’t see it working. We’re not talking about one house, or even a small settlement.”
She shook her head as she ate. “Too much area, too many variables. And, most likely, a waste of their time and energies.”
“That may be. Moving people to safety is more important. My father and I spoke of it last night, before I came to you. Even now runners are out so the word spreads.”
“Good. We’re going to need to put most of our focus on training the troops. You’ve got guards and—knights, maybe?”
“Aye.”
“They have your basic combat skills, but this is a different matter. Then your general population needs to be prepared to defend themselves. We need to get to work on setting those traps. And I’m going to want a firsthand look at the battleground itself.”
Her mind clicked off its list while she plowed through breakfast. “We’re going to need to set up multiple training areas—military and civilian. Then there’s weapons, supplies, transportation. We probably need an area where Hoyt and Glenna can work.”
“It will all be seen to.”
Something in his tone, the calmness of it, reminded her this was his ground now. He knew it, and its people. She didn’t.
“I don’t know the pecking order. The chain of command,” she said. “Who’s in charge of what.”
He poured them both more tea. For a moment he thought how nice it was—even if the talk was of war—to sit, just the two of them, over the morning meal.
“Until the sword is drawn from the stone, my father rules as the head of the first family of Geall. He isn’t king. He will not be king, but Moira, I think, understands that the men…the military as you call it, trust him. They’ll follow the ruler, the one whose hand lifts the sword, but…”
“This is giving them time. It’s letting them follow orders, and absorb the idea of this war, from a man who’s been proven to them. I get it. Moira’s smart to wait a little longer to take command.”
“She is, yes. She’s also afraid.”
“That she won’t be the one to lift the sword?”
He shook his head. “That she will. That she’ll be the queen who must order her people to war. To shed their blood, cause their deaths. It haunts her.”
“It’s Lilith who sheds their blood, causes their death.”
“And it will be Moira who tells them to fight. The farmers and the shopkeepers, the tinkers and the cooks. For generations Geall has been ruled in peace. She’ll be the first to change that. It weighs on her.”
“It should. It should never be easy to send a world to war. Larkin, what if it’s not her? What if she’s not the one, through destiny, or just because she doesn’t have it in her to pull that sword out of stone?”
“She was the queen’s only child. There’s no other in her line.”
“So lines can shift. There’s you.”
“Bite your tongue.” When she didn’t smile, he sighed. “There would be me. My brother, my sister. My sister’s children. The oldest is but four. My brother, he’s hardly more than a boy himself, and it’s the land that calls to him. My sister wants nothing more than to tend her babies and her home. They could never do this thing. I can’t believe the gods would put this into their hands.”
“But yours?”
He met her eyes. “I’ve never wanted it, to rule. War or peace.”
“People would follow you. They know you, and they trust you.”
“That may be. And if it comes to it, what choice would I have? But the crown isn’t my wish, Blair.” Nor was it his destiny, of that he was sure. He reached over, took her hand. “You must know what I wish.”
“Wishes, dreams. We don’t always get what we ask for. So we have to take what there is.”
“And what’s in your heart? In mine? I want—”
“I’m sorry.” Moira stopped at the doorway. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but my uncle has spoken to the guards, and to the inner circle of knights. You’re to come to the great hall.”
“Then we’d better get started,” Blair said.
She felt under-dressed in jeans and a black sweater. For the first time since Blair had met her, Moira wore a dress. A gown? Whatever the term it was simple and elegant, in a kind of russet tone that fell straight down her body from a high, gathered waist.
Her silver cross hung between her breasts, and a thin circlet of gold sat on her head.
Even Glenna seemed polished up, but then again, her favorite witch had a way of giving a casual shirt and pants an air of style and grace.
The cavernous room was heated by fires on either side and fronted by a wide platform, up two steps where a deep red carpet ran. On it stood a throne. An actual throne, Blair mused, in regal red and gold.
Riddock sat on it now, with Moira standing at his side.
To the other side sat a woman. Her blond hair was bound back in what Blair thought was called a snood. A younger woman, obviously pregnant, sat beside her. Two men stood at their backs.
The first family of Geall, Blair decided. Larkin’s family.
And at a glance from his father, he touched Blair’s arm, murmured: “It’ll be fine.” Then he left her to go up the steps and stand between his parents.
“Please.” Riddock gestured. “Take your ease.” He waited until they’d taken chairs at the base of the platform. “Moira and I have talked at length. At her request, I have spoken to the guards and many of the knights to tell them of the threat, and the coming war. It is Moira’s wish that you, and the other who came with you, be given the authority of command. To recruit, to train, to forge our army.”
He paused, studied them. “You are not Geallian.”
“Sir,” Larkin objected. “They are proven.”
“This war is brought to our soil, and it will be paid in our blood. I ask why those from outside should lead our people.”
“May I speak?” Hoyt got to his feet, waited until Riddock nodded. “Morrigan herself has sent us here, just as she sent two Geallians to Ireland, to us, so that we would gather into the first circle. We who have come here have left our worlds and our families, and have pledged our lives to fight this pestilence that comes to Geall.”
“This pestilence murdered our queen, my sister, before ever you came.” Riddock gestured toward them. “You are
two women, a demon, and a man of magic. And you are strangers to me. I have seasoned men, who are proven to me. Men whose names I know, whose families I know. Men who know Geall and are unquestioned in loyalty. Men who I know will lead our people strong into battle.”
“Where they’ll be slaughtered like lambs.” Though Riddock’s stare at the interruption was frigid, Blair pushed to her feet. “Sorry, but that’s the way it is. We can dance around it, play protocol, waste time, but the fact is your seasoned warriors don’t know squat about fighting vampires.”
When Hoyt laid a hand on Blair’s arm, she shook it off. Testily. “And I didn’t come here to be shuffled aside because I wasn’t born here, or because I’m a woman. And I didn’t come here to fight for Geall. I came here to fight for it all.”
“Well said,” Glenna murmured. “And ditto. My husband is accustomed to matters of court and princes. We’re not. So you’ll have to forgive us mere women. Mere women of power.”
She held out a hand, and a ball of fire, then flicked the ball into the hearth on the side of the room. Testily.
“Mere women who have fought and bled, and watched friends die. And the demon you spoke of is my family. He’s also fought and bled and watched a friend die.”
“Warriors you may be,” Riddock acknowledged with what could only be termed a regal nod. “But to lead takes more than magic and courage.”
“It takes experience, a cool head. And cold blood.”
Riddock glanced back to Blair with a slight lift of eyebrows. “These, aye, and the trust of the people you would lead.”
“They have mine,” Larkin said. “They have Moira’s. Earned every hour of every day these past weeks. Sir, have I not earned yours?”
“You have.” He said nothing for a moment, then again gestured to Hoyt, Glenna and Blair. “I would ask that you instruct, and that you take your commands from Lord Larkin and the Princess Moira.”
“We can start with that,” Blair decided. “Will you fight?” she asked Riddock.
Now the look in his eye had a kinship with a wolf. “To the last breath.”
“Then you’re going to need instruction, too, or that last breath’s going to come sooner than you think.”
Larkin cast his eyes heavenward, but laid a hand on his father’s shoulder and spoke lightly. “Blair has a warrior’s spirit.”
“And an unruly tongue. The gaming area then,” Riddock decided. “For our first instructions.”
“Your father doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not so.” Larkin gave Blair a friendly elbow nudge. “He’s merely working his way around to understanding you, and all of this.”
“Uh-huh.” She looked at Glenna as they walked outside. “Do you think we should tell Riddock how our people felt about kings?”
“I think we could let that one alone. But running up against what we did in there makes me realize it’s not going to be a snap convincing a bunch of macho Geallian men that women should teach them how to fight a war.”
“I’ve got some thoughts on that. And I think you should work with the women anyway.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t get a wedgie. You have more diplomacy and patience than I do.” Probably, Blair thought, anyone did. “And the women will probably relate better to you. They have to be trained, too, Glenna. To defend themselves, their families. To fight. Someone has to do it. And someone has to know which ones should stay home, and which ones should go.”
“Oh God.”
“We’re going to have the same deal with men. The ones who don’t measure up have to be put to other use. Treating the injured, protecting the kids, the elderly, supplying food, weapons.”
“And what do you suggest I do, Cian do,” Hoyt asked, “while the two of you are so busy?”
“His nose is out of joint because we mouthed off to Riddock,” Glenna murmured.
“My nose is fine and well, thanks all the same.” Hoyt spoke with unwavering dignity. “He needed to be told, though there could have been considerably more tact. If we offended him, it only takes more time and effort to repair the damage.”
“He’s a reasonable man,” Larkin insisted. “He wouldn’t let a few breaches of protocol interfere with what needs doing.” Frustrated himself, Larkin raked a hand through his hair. “He hasn’t been in a position to rule before this. The queen was crowned very young, and he’s had only the position as an adviser now and then.”
He’d have to be a fast learner, Blair thought.
Men were already gathered in what Blair saw was an area they held their jousts, their tournaments and games. There was a long rope where colored hoops hung. Scoreboard, she decided. And the royal box, the rougher seats for the masses. Paddocks for horses, tents where competitors readied themselves for whatever sport was on the ticket.
“You ever see that movie, Knight’s Tale?” Blair muttered.
“We will, we will rock you,” Glenna responded and made Blair grin.
“Sure helps having you here. Coming up on show time. Pick out one you figure you can take.”
“What? Why? What?”
“Both of you,” Blair said, adding Hoyt. “Just in case.”
Larkin stepped up to the lines of men. “My father has told you what it is we face, and what is coming. We have until Samhain to prepare, and on that day we must be in the Valley of Silence to do battle. We must win. To win you must know how to fight and how to kill these things that are not human. They are not men, and cannot be killed as men can be killed.”
Hanging back as Larkin spoke, Blair studied the men. Most of them looked fit and able. She spotted Tynan, the guard both Larkin and Moira had greeted on arrival. He, Blair decided, looked not only fit and able. He looked ready.
“I have fought them,” Larkin continued, “as the princess Moira has fought them. As those who came with us from outside this world have fought them. We will teach you what you need to know.”
“We know how to fight.” A man who stood beside Tynan called out. “What can you teach me I haven’t taught you on this very field?”
“This won’t be a game.” Blair stepped forward. This one was a big bruiser, she noted. Looked cocky with it. Good strong shoulders, tough built, hard attitude.
Perfect.
“You won’t get the consolation prize and a pat on the back if you come in second in this. You’ll be dead.”
His face didn’t sneer at her, but his tone did. “Women don’t instruct men on the art of combat. They tend the fires, and keep the bed warm.”
He got some appreciative male laughter and a look of pity from Larkin.
“Niall,” he said, with cheer, “you’ve stepped full into the bog with that one. These women are warriors.”
“I see no warriors here.” With his hands on his hips, Niall elbowed toward the front of the line. “But two women dressed as men, and a sorcerer who stands with them. Or behind them.”
“I’ll go first,” Blair murmured to Glenna. “I’ll take you on,” she told Niall. “Here and now. Your choice of weapons.”
He snorted. “Do you expect me to spar with a girl?”
“Choose your weapon,” Riddock ordered.
“Sir. At your command.” He was snickering as he strode away.
Immediately the wagers began.
“Hey, now!” Larkin gave Blair a quick pat on the shoulder, moved into the men. “I’ll have some of that.”
Niall strode back with two thick fencing poles. Blair studied the way he held them, the way he moved. Full swagger now.
“This will be quick,” he assured Blair.
“Yeah, it will. It’s a good choice of weapon,” she called out over the voices still calling out odds and wagers. “Wood kills a vampire, if you have the strength and the aim to get it through the heart. You look strong enough.” She eyed Niall up and down. “How’s your aim?”
He grinned, wide. “I’ve not yet had a woman complain of it.”
“Well, let’s see what you got, big guy.”
She gripped the pole lengthwise, nodded. “Ready?”
“I’ll give you the first three hits, out of fairness.”
“Fine.”
She took him down in two, ramming the end of the pole in his gut, then sweeping down to crack it hard against his legs. Ignoring the laughter and whoops, she stood over him, the pole pressed to his heart.
“Now if you were a vampire, I’d put this right through you till it came out the other side. Then you’d be dust.” She stepped back. “I think you should hold your bets, guys. That was just practice.” She cocked her head at Niall. “Ready now?”
He got to his feet, and she saw the shock and embarrassment at being knocked down by a woman had lit a fire in him. He came in hard, the force of his pole against hers shooting up her arms. She leaped up and over when he aimed for her legs, then cracked her stick against his chest.
He fought well, she decided, and with a bullish strength—but he lacked creativity.
She used her pole like a vault, planting it in the ground, swinging up over her opponent. When she landed, she spun a kick into the small of his back, caught her pole. And tripped him with it.
This time she held it to his throat as he panted for breath.
“Three out of five?” she suggested.
He let out a roar, knocking at the pole. She let his forward motion carry her back, then pumped up with her feet to flip him over her. And flat onto his back again.
His eyes were still dazed as she pressed the pole to his throat again. The last fall had knocked the wind out of him, and stolen the color from his cheeks.
“I can do this all day, and you’ll end up on your ass every time.”
She got to her feet, and now planted her pole beside him to lean negligently against it. “You’re strong, but so am I. Plus, you’re heavy in the feet—and you weren’t thinking on them. Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you’ll win, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean you’ll live. I’d say you got close to a hundred pounds on me, but I knocked you flat three times.”