They entered the conference room to find Armond sitting at the head of the table, the prior friar at his right, a lord at his left, with Dorian directly behind him as unofficial counsel. Hazel’s eyes flew to her friend. Her stomach tied itself into knots. But his eyes softened with immediate pleasure. The knot released. She couldn’t imagine why he’d not responded to her letters. Then again, the Kierelian king had a history of misplacing them…
Armond stood and bade them all be seated. Fredrick sat at the opposite end of the table and motioned for Hazel to sit at his right while his considerable circle of advisors filled in the remaining chairs. Hazel was certain their attendance at the table confused Armond, who would not yet realize these soldiers were Fredrick’s closest companions and were, despite military rank, well-educated and selected for their estimable astuteness. Hazel was certain one of them had even been among the Assemblage of the Wise when she’d visited.
“Your soldiers are tired, I see,” Armond taunted.
Hazel nearly convulsed and made ready to retort when she felt Fredrick’s hand rest upon hers.
“My council is trained in all things, including combat,” he explained. “Despite their regalia, these are my advisors.”
Armond’s brows rose. It was clear to Hazel how threatened he was by Fredrick. It surprised her she hadn’t understood this before—why they couldn’t get along. He well understood how small Fredrick made him appear without ever meaning to. And it was true: Armond looked a pathetic figure compared to him. Even Fredrick clearly understood the difference between them, though not in arrogance. It saddened her that, if they’d met before the dragon attack, they might have liked one other. But Armond had never quite recuperated from those losses. Nor had he ever, she was certain, recovered from his own faint-hearted response to the colossal dragon.
“Now then,” Armond began. “You say we are to expect an army tomorrow. Is that all?”
Fredrick folded his arms and looked to Hazel.
She raised her brows, then began, “Apparently, they have an enormous one.”
“As we well understand,” Armond said with annoyance.
She kept her eyes from rolling—only just. “But they’ve also got dragons… trained ones that respond by command.”
Armond drooped in his seat, all the color drained from his face. He was deflated. Dragons were his greatest fear. Hazel couldn’t help but feel compassion for him.
“How many?” he asked hoarsely.
“Four.”
He looked faint.
“They are the smaller variety,” she assured, despite herself.
He looked on her with refreshed irritation. “Four trained dragons and you think their small stature will save us?”
“I think it may give Kierelia a fighting chance, yes.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “That’s it. They’ve got us. We may as well surrender now.”
Hazel leaped to her feet in fury that he could give up so easily, but Fredrick spoke first. “Not necessarily. You’ve got two armies this time. I spared little of Bashtii’s troops. They are at Kierelia’s disposal.”
Armond blinked at him. “I-I must thank you,” he said humbly.
Hazel took her seat again.
“Problem is,” Fredrick began, “my troops have never even seen a dragon—only sketched likenesses. You, King Armond, are dragon-slayer. What guidance can you give us?”
Armond blinked. “Yes, er, yes…”
Hazel kept her gaze from his. She had no mind to cast salt into his shame. Besides, he had helped her slay one of the small dragons. He might advise from that front.
But Armond only endured a few more moments’ hesitation before, “Dorian, here, has slain far more than I. Dorian…” He gestured for him to address the room.
Dorian’s brows rose in surprise, but he stepped forward to give what council he could while the room listened on.
Hazel glanced up as she felt the heat of Armond’s gaze. She almost leaped in her seat at its intensity. How he detested her. Any semblance of their “love” had vanished. It was as if he blamed her for having slain the dragon, as if she had caused his inner turmoil, as if she had sent the dragons.
He cast her a renewed glare, though unconsciously.
With a gasp, she fell back in her seat. Fredrick glanced her way, but she ignored him.
Quite suddenly, she grasped precisely how Armond felt about her… what he had always felt for her. It was not love—never had been. Nor was it even dependence. It was jealousy. He envied her strength and ability. He coveted the way the people loved her, how they wanted her even above their crowned king, whose line had been in rule before Kierelia had been made a sanctioned kingdom. As his lack of understanding the workings of his own mind had kept him from realizing it, he’d acted to possess her as his own if he could not surpass her. It was probably true that he’d believed he loved her. Perhaps he might even have possessed real feelings for her if he had been more secure in himself. But in the end, the resentment had won out and he’d taken the first excuse to be rid of her without even realizing why he was doing it.
“Ouch,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What was that?” Fredrick murmured to her.
The wheels in her mind continued to spin. Before the kingdom’s destruction, when life had been well for Armond, he’d been gorgeous, self-assured and benevolent. She’d truly esteemed that man. The change had come when he’d cowered before the dragon. As nearly everyone else had done the same, it wouldn’t have been a problem… had she not stepped up and done what he couldn’t. Moreover, he’d had to watch her sail through the kingdom’s year of rehabilitation and then arrive at coronation day with the tongues of the kingdom wishing she could be their leader, even when they had no conception that she was actually the original beast-slayer.
He’d not just altered because his life had fallen apart. He would never be the same while she was near… because she was his problem. She was the reason he had lost his confidence and grown envious… which had toiled around inside him until it had nearly killed his kindheartedness—the one good quality he yet possessed.
She’d sought only ever to be a support, to help pick him up when he was vulnerable. But somewhere along the line, she’d become his competition. Once, he’d admired her for not wishing to take the crown from him when she might so easily have done so. Now, like Dianna, he detested her all the more because she wasn’t the type who would—because she was good. She nearly choked as she came to her next realization. The way he looked at her, spoke to her…
He thoroughly hated her. When had that happened?
The intrusion of a Bashtiian soldier stole the attention of the room. He bowed before Fredrick with, “I apologize, your majesty, but the army of the Deep South has arrived sooner than anticipated. They have nearly reached our ranks.”
Fredrick sprang to his feet, his mind clearly formulating plans. “How can it be that we were not alerted?” he asked.
“It seems they took the time to arrive by a mountain pass from the bordering kingdom—Stlock, I believe. Kierelia’s southern region have not been alarmed as expected… and, therefore, will not arrive to aid in the battle.”
“That is a pity...” he murmured thoughtfully. “They are mighty warriors. How great is our enemy’s number?”
“The whole of it has not ceased emerging from the pass, but I can tell you they will be greater than our armies together.”
Fredrick rubbed at his chin as his eyes darted back and forth at the speed of his thoughts. “I assume you’ve led the remainder of our men down the hill to join Kierelia’s?”
The soldier nodded.
“Very good.” He turned to Armond. “I will make my way below and begin directing my men.”
Armond nodded. “I will remain here to devise a broader plan.”
Hazel did not conceal the snort that sounded from her. He meant to hide away in his castle during the whole of the battle. Even so, with a few of Fredrick’s advisors remaining
with him, they may just be able to come up with something viable. They would have to if any of them were to survive.
Hazel stood. “I’m coming with you, Fredrick.”
The room went silent before Armond spoke what all were thinking. “What good is your presence going to do him? Your time would be better spent helping me establish a strategy.”
She spun to face him. “I should think, since I am the one who slew that massive beast over a year ago while you lay stricken upon the earth, you’d have no room to question what good I will do.”
The king became visibly smaller as his face grew nearly as green as it had when he’d been poisoned by enchanted roses. His gaze lowered to the table.
Fredrick looked to her in astonishment. “In that case… I accept your aid with gratefulness, Lady Hazel.”
She and Fredrick left together, a number of his advising soldiers following behind.
He leaned in with all the smile she felt he could spare under the circumstances. “You never told me you slew the big one.”
“I never told anyone.”
“But why does everyone think Armond was the dragon-slayer? He’s a legend for it.”
“By the time it was slain, everyone had fled. It was assumed Armond had done it. When he showed such cowardice afterward, I needed the kingdom to believe he was capable of leading them.”
“Well, they’re certainly going to have their doubts now...”
“No, they won’t. He’ll claim I lied. It’s the only way he’ll keep the throne.”
“And you won’t correct him?”
“I won’t be here to correct him.”
A glimmer shone in his eyes. “You won’t remain here then? After all, your name will have been cleared as a conspirator...”
“Of course I’m not staying. If we survive this day, I’m with Bashtii.” She’d only realized her increasing attachment to it once she’d hit Kierelian shores. Being away from Bashtii felt utterly inappropriate now. She felt like a mother who’d abandoned her young to the mercies of the world while she’d gone off galivanting after an estranged lover. Though it was a captivating kingdom, she was certain this shift had everything to do with the spiritual bond she’d formed in the Cave of Nielsas. That connection had evidently intensified as she’d spent time there.
Fredrick appeared too pleased considering all they were about to face. “So, we have pinched the Lady Fortune.”
“What you have now is the Great Entity,” she scolded
“The Kierelian god?”
“The Bashtiian and Kierelian God are one and the same, Fredrick. He created all that is. Kierelia has no right to claim him as its own. Nor could they pin him to such an assertion. He’s undomesticated, he’s all-powerful and he’s my friend. Moreover, he is the God I met through the Bashtiian rubies. We do not go forward without him.”
She only hoped she was right.
31
It was all Hazel could do to keep Fredrick from sending her to the back of the ranks when they caught sight of the opposing army. It was twice what Kierelia had to defend with. She felt fear fiercer than experienced when facing the giant beast. The sight set her to shaking.
“Really, Hazel,” Fredrick urged, “you’ve never faced anything like this.”
She raised a brow at him.
“One dragon, no matter its size, compared to hundreds of men, is very different,” he explained. “There are too many factors to account for. Not to mention, killing men is very different from killing a beast.”
She stomped her foot and worked to steady her shaking body. “Fredrick, I worked too hard to save this kingdom. Though I no longer call it my own, I cannot sit back and watch it be taken away. I’d rather die defending it than live to see it stolen.”
He swallowed. “And I’d rather not see you die, so we are at an impasse.”
She shook her head. “There is no impasse. I decide where I stand and I will not move from this spot until I am good and ready.”
The sound of trumpets ripped their attention from one another. The roar of their enemy followed as they raced down the hill and across the expanse. In a few breaths, the armies collided and Hazel was suddenly more than grateful that she and Fredrick were not at the forefront. She needed time to think, to get her bearings. She reached for her sword before realizing she had no idea how to use it. Fredrick did not know this, of course. He was not aware of the sheer luck it had taken to slay her dragon.
What was she doing here? Armond was right. She had no right to stand in the middle of a battlefield. Her mind was her strength and she ought to be in the conferencing room devising a winning stratagem.
She shook herself, wringing her hands. She’d come to aid them and she would not be shaken from her purpose. It was imperative she did what she had known she would the moment she’d volunteered to join Fredrick. And why should she care what anyone thought? They already knew. They already detested her for it.
Gulping a large breath of air, she released a long, trilling note until it caught hold of the nearest enemy soldier. Instantly, he plunged backward through a number of other men. Fredrick turned to her for a moment’s admiration before being drawn into the melee himself. She chose another victim and then another. But it soon became clear she had their enemy’s attention.
One by one, then two by two, they came for her. With her voice, she held them off until it was all she could do to send them flying as they reached her. Fredrick shouted for his best men to surround her. But she was not doing enough to warrant stealing his guard. Therefore, she sang louder and found she reached more troops at once. Before long, the area around her was nearly cleared. That was when she realized how vulnerable Fredrick was. Instinctively, she dashed to aid him.
It was hours that this went on until the sun summoned the afternoon. Hazel was desperately weary and, despite their best efforts, the Bashtiian and Kierelian armies had done little more than defend the gates. They could not keep on at this rate and the less momentum they fought with, the swifter their enemy’s victory would come. She stepped back for a moment, considering the scene, then reconsidered her gift. She kicked herself for not having further explored what she was capable of. Recalling the rain she’d summoned, she knew precipitation would do little for them.
Her eyes went to the sky. Rain was not the only thing that fell from it. Hail might do… but she could not control who it pelted. What of…? She raised a brow and roared out a new song. Lightning struck the ground. She sang again and three more strikes took out at least twenty of their enemy’s numbers.
At last, she saw what she ought to have seen from the beginning: fear in their eyes. They looked to her as if she was a malevolent sorceress as she slew whole groups at once.
Without warning, her knees buckled. Calling on lightning had been taxing. She’d not known different uses could drain her in varying ways. In an effort to keep from distracting Fredrick with her wellbeing, she lifted herself off the ground and raced into the castle, then up the nearest staircase to gain a better view of the battle.
Her stomach dropped. There were so many Deep Southerners. She would never reach them all with her lightning before growing utterly spent. “Oh, what’ll we do?” she murmured. “Armond was right. We are going to lose.”
That was when she saw him: King Rakutan of the Deep South. He strode out silently. Wind tousled his long black hair as his eyes roved the ranks of his enemy. He searched for something, someone. Her, she felt certain. She raised a brow and made ready to sing at him when he paused. He’d located his target. It was not her after all. Leaning out the window, she could not tell who it was. He withdrew a small dagger from his boot.
“Fredrick!” Hazel screamed. Rakutan had struck him square in the chest. With a shriek, she flew to him, thrusting a song at Rakutan that propelled him from the vicinity like a limp ragdoll. She and a small number of troops dropped beside Fredrick. Her heart sank as one of the men pulled the weapon from his flesh.
“W-will…” she murmured, “will he
…?”
The man cast her a warning glance, then tore a piece of cloth from his garment and pressed it into the oozing wound. Hazel’s attention was torn from his actions when a hand touched her cheek. She turned to find Fredrick scrutinizing her face. He tried to communicate something, but she could not grasp it.
Desperately, her heart reached out for the Entity. What was she to do? Bashtii could not lose him! Moreover, as she gazed into his face… she found her heart clenching. She bemoaned having held herself back from him, for having always made herself out of reach. He was a good man. He’d deserved her honesty, at least.
Abruptly, his breathing shallowed and his lids dropped. Blood poured from his wound and the man working to save him went white. In frantic woe, Hazel sang. It was scarcely audible. She hardly had any voice left. It was a song of what could be. In her mind, she reached into his wound, demanding it to restore, for the fibers of his skin to rejoin. At last, she was cut off by a sob as she realized what he’d come to mean to her, what he might have been to her one day. What she should have been to him.
The soldier gasped as he watered a piece of garment and wiped at Fredrick’s chest. “It is… closed,” he whispered incredulously, continuing to wash the blood away.
Hazel shoved her fingers into the place the wound had been. She met fresh skin. Reaching for Fredrick’s face, she patted at his cheeks. “Fredrick,” she urged. “Wake up.”
His lids fluttered open. Looking at those around him, he seemed to recall what the trouble had been and felt at his chest. “What in the…” He searched the healer’s eyes, but the man only shook his head in wonder.
Fredrick glanced at Hazel then, reading her face. She tried shaking her head, uncertain whether she’d really done what she believed. Taking her face into his hands, he kissed her forehead, then reached for his sword and started back into the melee. Hazel blinked after him. Had she really done it—healed his wound with a song? Healed him sufficiently enough to send him back into battle?
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