“I still can’t believe I didn’t notice him there,” Julianne said. “And I don’t know why he won’t admit it. Half the damn town saw him there, eyes glowing. Tessa said he would cheer and shout every time he took someone down.”
I didn’t admit it, because it didn’t happen. Artemis sent the shrill mental voice at both of the approaching mystics.
“Artemis, where are you?” Julianne called out in a bored voice. He would have to be in hearing distance—her shield meant he wouldn’t have been able to mind-read the conversation.
None of your business.
She turned a slow circle, taking the time to look at the windows of nearby cottages and examine the bushes by the road.
A scrap of fabric floating in the breeze caught her eye. She slowly walked over to the cart. Lying on his back, arms crossed over his chest, lay Artemis. He was cushioned by a pile of loosely stacked grass.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“Examining cloud patterns.” He pouted at her, then rolled over, gathering an armful of the wilted grass under his head like a pillow.
“Trying to control the weather?” Danil asked with a laugh.
Artemis sat up. “Yes!” He said, eagerly. “You see, the magic users in Holdgate have found a way to change the weather with—”
“I was joking, Artemis!” Danil said.
“Fine. Next time you get caught in a storm, don’t come running to me.” Artemis turned to glare at Danil.
When have I ever gone running to him because of a bit of rain? Danil thought. He was, for a change, wise enough to keep it to himself.
“Artemis, may we speak?” Julianne asked gently.
“No.” He burrowed further into his grassy bed.
“Julianne!” Bastian called. “I wondered where you’d got to. What are you—Is that Artemis?” he asked as he came close enough to see into the wagon.
“Go away.” The old mystic sat up, shook the grass off, and spat some green strands out of his mouth. “Better yet, stay. I’ll go, before you can try and talk me into some ridiculous scheme that might just get me killed.”
“But Artemis,” Bastian quickly said, before the others had a chance to speak. “You’re the town hero! If you’re not there, who will the villagers look up to? How will they know they’re safe?”
To Julianne’s absolute shock and amazement, Artemis paused. He looked back at Bastian suspiciously. “They can fight,” he said uncertainly. “And they have you lot to do the mind magicking stuff.” He flapped his hands around his head for emphasis.
“Artemis, they don’t trust us like they do you,” Bastian pleaded. “They know you’re smarter than all of us put together.”
Artemis preened a little at that. “Well, I am quite intelligent. This many years of study can’t be done in a day, you know.”
“Just think how much you’ll be celebrated for saving the whole town not once, but twice,” Bastian pressed. “You’ll have so many pies they’ll start leaking out of your ears!”
At the mention of pies, Artemis grinned. “They have been giving me a lot,” he said. “I suppose… If I were to help out, just a little, and from a very safe distance away… how many more do you think I’ll get?”
“More than you can eat,” Danil promised. “And of course, when Lord George awards medals for the bravest and most honored fighters, you’ll be there to receive one, won’t you?”
Danil? Did you just promise something on Lord George’s behalf that he knows nothing about? Julianne sent the thought directly to Danil’s mind, shutting Artemis out of the conversation.
He’ll be fine with it, Danil sent back. Especially if he thinks it was your idea.
Julianne rolled her eyes. Fine. But you’re the one who’ll have to explain it to him.
Danil grinned suddenly. We could make it a real event!
“So, can we count on you, Artemis?” Julianne asked, cutting off Danil’s train of thought. “Rogan will be here within the week, and we need to know you’ll have our backs.”
Artemis hesitated, so Bastian spoke up. “Of course, he will. He wouldn’t want the people of Tahn to think he was scared. They might stop plying him with food!”
That made the old man’s mind up at last. “Fine. I’ll help with your horrible plan. Don’t blame me when you all get yourselves killed, though. And don’t expect me to share any pie!”
Making a show of turning his back on them, Artemis stomped off. He didn’t get far, confronted by a fine spiderweb, glistening with tiny dew drops. Something about it caught his attention and he dropped to the ground, legs crossed, staring at the web as his fingers twitched, and he began to mutter long winded theories about the nature of water, evaporation, and rain.
“Aaannnd we’ve lost him,” Danil said.
He spoke loud enough that Artemis should have been able to hear, but the old mystic didn’t react.
“At least he’s agreed to help us,” Julianne said.
“You really think he’ll come through?” Danil asked.
Bastian laughed. “You underestimate the power of pie. He’d fight the whole battle alone and agree to host a month’s worth of dinner parties if you offered him enough of it.”
“Fair enough,” Danil said with a sigh. “Speaking of battles, I’ve been hearing some really strange rumors about Bette and Garrett.”
“You mean the one where they were screaming at each other in the streets and somehow ended up dating by the end?” Bastian laughed. “Yeah, I heard. It’s just crazy, small-town gossip, though. Right?”
“No, it’s not,” Julianne said. When the two men looked at her in shock, she just shrugged. “Bette told me. She was mad it took him so long, and he was terrified to ask her. You know what Garrett’s like when he’s scared of something, all blustery and arrogant.”
“No, I wouldn’t know what Garrett’s like when he’s scared,” Danil pointed out. “Because I still haven’t found anything that scares him.”
“Except women,” Bastian said with a laugh.
Danil snorted. “Point taken.”
He pulled out a waterskin and took a mouthful. Bastian’s eyes flashed white for a moment, then Danil passed the water to him.
“Danil, seeing as you’re so eager to talk about relationships...” Julianne began, cutting him a look.
“Ok! Fine, I’ll stop.” Danil held his hands up, a look of terror etched on his face. “Not another word, I swear.”
“Oh, lighten up.” She swatted him in the chest. “I was just going to say that I think you and Polly are adorable together.”
Water sprayed the ground as Bastian choked. “What? Polly?”
At Julianne’s warning look, he bit his lip and tried to stifle the chuckles.
Oh, stop! Julianne sent urgently. He’s incredibly sensitive about it.
Oh, I bet she knows all his most sensitive spots, Bastian sent back, then started laughing again at his own joke.
It was Julianne’s turn to try and hide a smile.
“What?” Danil demanded. “I know you’re talking about me.”
“Never said a word,” Juliane said. She rubbed her nose and coughed, trying to hide her laughter.
Danil threw his hands up. “Do you hate me today?” he demanded. “First you put me in a dress, now this?”
“Wait. Dress? Oh, come on!” Bastian cried out. “The one time I miss breakfast!”
“You… you…” Lost for words, Danil threw his hands up in the air and walked off.
“The dress story will have to wait,” Julianne said. “Mathias needs to see me. No poking fun at Danil!” she warned as they headed in separate directions.
“Julianne!” Mathias called out, raising an arm to catch her attention.
“Mathias, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“A bird came in,” he said. “From one of our contacts.”
Madam Seher had left a few people back in Muir, supporters that were sending regular updates to Tahn through Mathias’s birds.
Julianne’s muscles tightened in anticipation. She couldn’t read the information from the druid’s mind, but the crease between his brows and the stern set of his mouth made it clear the news wasn’t good.
“Here. Quicker if you read it.” He thrust the scrap of paper at her.
Lord George told all of Muir that Adeline was captured by Tahn rebels. Seher made to look like instigator. Calling for volunteers to lead fight.
“That cunning bastard,” Julianne said. Rogan might be an evil prick, but he was clever.
“Right. Using the innocents for cannon fodder? He knows George and Ade wouldn’t ever hurt their own people.” Mathias tucked the note back in his pocket. “At the same time, what’s to stop us putting Adeline up on the wall? If they see her, they’ll know he’s lying.”
“Illusions,” Julianne said, thinking it over. “He’ll cast illusions to disguise her, or hide her somehow. Or, if he’s as devious as I think, he’ll wait until she’s up there, and create an illusion that makes it look like she’s screaming for help, or show us killing her in front of them.”
“If the people of Muir thought they saw us do that, they’d burn Tahn to the ground,” Mathias said. “Damn. What do we do?”
“Beat him at his own game,” Julianne said with a grin. “He’s not the only illusionist this side of the Madlands, you know.”
“I’m glad you’re confident,” Mathias said with a relieved smile.
“I am,” Julianne said. “Not just that he won’t win… we’re going to grind Rogan into dust and feed it to the pigs for breakfast,” she said.
Mathias raised his eyebrows. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, ok?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“...and when they drag beloved Lady Adeline out in front of all those people, all those insipid, wailing city-dwellers, we’ll cast a little illusion ourselves,” Rogan spat, pacing up and down in front of his throne.
“You’ll hide her?” Donna asked, voice laced with skepticism. “Make her look like a donkey, perhaps?”
“We’ll make a knife appear, and blood will gush from her throat. She will collapse. In the frenzy, not one of them will notice if she spits in their face, alive and well.” Rogan turned cruel eyes on the guard that watched them.
The guard was already pale, listening to Rogan’s plans for Tahn. When he saw the new master of the city was looking his way, he almost shat himself.
“Find this talk fascinating?” Rogan asked.
“N-no, my lord,” the guard stammered.
“Cut out your tongue,” Rogan said in a cold voice. “Wouldn’t want any chance of our plans to get out.”
The guard sucked in a quick breath. He reached for his knife.
“Rogan, do you really think that’s warranted?” Donna asked. She didn’t particularly care what Rogan did to his victims, but she would rather it not be done in front of her. “The mess will be horrendous and the stink of rotting blood will hang around for days.”
Rogan sighed. “Fine, stop.”
The guard froze, his tongue pinched between two fingers, the knife already ripping with a thin stream of blood. To his credit, he hadn’t screamed yet.
“If you ever open your mouth to speak of what I have planned, then you will cut your tongue out.”
“Yeth, Mathter” the guard lisped. His lips were stained red and a small, crimson dribble escaped his mouth as he spoke.
“For fuck’s sake, go clean yourself up.” Rogan waved his hand, dismissing the guard, who fled the room as fast as he could. “Idiot.”
“Why do you insist on chasing this particular rabbit?” Donna asked.
Her words were calm, controlled. Inside, she seethed, boiling with angry contradictions.
Why should he care about those bitches? she wondered. Why should he chase them down when he has me? Because they need to die, that’s why. But… He's weak, he won’t kill Adeline. He loves her. I don’t care. I don’t care who he loves.
She twitched, the internal monologue twisting her brain until it hurt.
Yes, you do. The sudden thought made her jump. She couldn’t tell if it was her own or if Rogan had slipped it in there without her realizing.
Aloud, she asked what his plan was if Julianne somehow succeeded in convincing their people that Adeline lived.
“Kill them,” he said, as if she had asked what to do with spilled tea. “My loyal guards are well and truly bound, now. The rest are paid well enough not to question my orders.”
“And then?” Donna asked. “What will you do once you’ve wiped Tahn from existence and killed the women who defied you?”
She bit her cheek, admonishing herself for even asking. He’s not going to tell you his happy ending involves you, she thought viciously.
“Kill them? Oh, no. Adeline will not be killed. Her people need her! They need a figure to look up to, someone to tell them everything will be alright. I’m afraid I’ll have to break her mind, but I won’t kill her.” Rogan stopped pacing and flopped into his chair.
A shard of ice slithered through Donna’s gut. “You’ll keep her as a pet?” she asked coldly.
“As my wife.” Rogan darted a glance her way. “You didn’t think you had a chance of that, did you?”
“I simply live to serve. I have no greater goal than that,” Donna said in a flat, emotionless voice.
“Wonderful. Now, about our army. You got the information I asked for?”
She had. Donna rattled off a long list of numbers: the soldiers they had, those they had lost when George’s son disappeared, the number of days they could feed them, how many carts would be needed to transport the food, how many more they could get within three days.
Rogan listened intently, mind running over his plans. They would march on Tahn in four days, an army amassed through his lies and his magic mind tricks. They would send the citizens of Muir against the gates first.
When the fool mystic girl brought out Adeline to parade her before them—and he knew she would—they would hammer the last nail in their coffin themselves. With Adeline supposedly dead, slaughtered before the very eyes of her avengers, he would call to attack.
The mystic bitch would come for him, if she wasn’t trampled by the very people she was trying to protect. Rogan closed his eyes, losing himself in a memory. It was the only time he had truly seen her, standing proud and strong against his magic.
She hadn’t shown fear or groveled at his feet like so many weaker men and women. Julianne, just like Adeline, had faced him proudly. Then, she had tricked him. Her illusions were perfectly crafted, showing a strength of power and quickness of mind he envied.
I will own you, he thought, imagining he could send the words straight to the girl’s mind. I will own you and make you dance for me. Perhaps, in front of your soldier friend? We can watch him squirm together.
Donna’s whining voice brought his attention back to her. “Yes, yes.” He waved his hand, dismissing her. “We leave in four days, no matter how many men, or horses, or useless fucking carts we have. If there’s not enough food, we’ll make them forget they’re hungry.”
“Even if they don’t feel it, they’ll still fall over dead if you starve them,” Donna pointed out.
Rogan could swear there was a thread of haughty condescension to her, something that hadn’t been there since he had broken her. “You presume I care. We’ll ride them hard, fight them until they’re dead. If they’re not strong enough to make it back, I don’t want them.”
Donna glared at him.
“Go. Your face irritates me,” Rogan snapped, unsettled at her sudden change in demeanor. He checked the spell latched onto her mind and breathed a sigh of relief to find that it was still intact.
Donna swept out, leaving Rogan alone.
All too often, he was alone. “What would you do if you were here, little Julianne?” he asked the empty room.
“I’d kill you, Rogan,” he replied to himself in a high, squeaky voice. “I’d use my pretty face to distract you
and cast my magic.”
“And when I beat you?” he asked, voice deep again.
“I’ll fall at your feet and worship you, Master.”
Rogan smiled down at his imaginary foe. “That you will, girl. That you will.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Arnold slowly approached the tall, white wall. He held a flimsy stick aloft, twitching it to fan out the scrap of shirt that hung from it. The fabric was torn and muddied, but still, he hoped, recognizable as white.
“Who’s that?” someone yelled, voice muffled by the barrier between them.
“My name is Arnold!” he yelled back. “I’ve come to negotiate the surrender of my men.”
He supposed they were his men, now. Lawson was gone, their lord dead. Arnold was the highest-ranking officer left and, though his honor was likely in tatters from this cowardly move, his sense of right allowed him no other choice.
The soldiers he now led were dying. They were starving, their food supplies lost to whatever the hell had attacked their camp and fouled the supplies. Diarrhea was rife and three of his charges—of the seven that were left—and were now too weak to stand.
He might be a coward, but at least his men would live.
A gate screeched open. “Well? What are ye waitin’ for?”
Arnold squinted, wondering why the stocky man who spoke to him had the voice of a woman. When he got close enough to see the musclebound girl, he swallowed. Perhaps, then, that rumor was true.
His men had sworn they had faced down women on the battlefield. Not just one, and those they had seen fought like demons.
It was no secret his lord’s sister, Adeline, had convinced their father to overturn the law that prevented women from joining the army and guards, but George the Third had never had an applicant that met his standards.
Women, he had said, were just not built for fighting.
“Keep yer eyes up here, soldier,” the woman snapped as he reached the door.
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