by Callie Bates
The Butcher raises an eyebrow. “What do you think the people will do with the truth? They see the Tinani on the border. They know it’s only a matter of time before the black ships of Paladis arrive by sea, and the navy of Baedon as well. The Tinani, we might be able to fight. But I am a realistic man, madam, and I tell you that without the Caveadear’s power, we are in serious danger.”
I swallow hard.
“The people know it, too,” the Butcher continues remorselessly. “If you tell them Lady Elanna has been captured, that we may have been betrayed from within, they’ll panic. We’ll have riots in the streets. Deserters in my army. More lives lost, in all likelihood, than if we keep silent.”
I stare at him. He looks back, not giving an inch. It galls me that we fought our rebellion for the sake of the common people, and this man has such little faith in them that he refuses to tell them the truth.
“The people aren’t stupid,” I say tightly. “When Elanna doesn’t appear, when there’s no land magic, they’ll figure it out. And then they’ll know we lied to them. Just like Antoine Eyrlai.” I look hard at him. “We can’t simply put them down. We won’t burn their villages or force them to submit.”
The Butcher purses his lips, but I don’t know whether he understands my reference to Marose and my mother’s death. He’s burned more than one village, after all. “How popular do you think you are, Queen Sophy?”
“I…” I hesitate, sensing a trap.
“Popular enough that when you tell the truth, the people won’t think you weak? Foolish?” He coughs delicately. “Incompetent?”
My eyes are stinging. In Caeris, with the memory of Ruadan’s fondness for me, with the loyalty to my family, perhaps people would follow me no matter what. But in Eren…
Yet Ruadan used to say that lies were abhorrent, especially the ones used by the Eyrlais to hoodwink the people. He used to say, If you do anything, Sophy, tell the people the truth. Preferably the truth they want to hear. If people trust you, they will follow you anywhere. And if you fail their trust, even once, you should never expect to have it again.
“Then I must do everything to appear powerful,” I say to the Butcher of Novarre. “But I won’t lie.”
He utters an exasperated sigh. “Think longer and harder about this, Your Majesty. I, for one, do not want to lose everything we’ve fought for.”
“You could simply switch sides again,” I retort. “Not much loss there.”
The Butcher stares at me, his nostrils flaring, but I don’t back down. Now, at last, I think I glimpse him, the man who ordered the village of Marose to be burned to the ground. I feel strangely vindicated, as if he’s proven to me that he still is the monster I always believed him to be.
Philippe intervenes. “Lord Gilbert, with all due respect, I agree with the queen on this. Take a day or two perhaps to shore up support, but she needs to tell the truth. Otherwise the people will never have reason to trust her. She must set herself apart from the Eyrlais.”
I eye him. “Didn’t you swear fealty to the Eyrlais?”
“I did, madam, but with little choice in the matter.”
“Those who want Sophy deposed will use this to their advantage,” the Butcher warns Philippe.
“They’ll use her deceit even more.” Philippe pauses. “Do you think they’re not in communication with Tinan? Do you think they don’t have spies in the royal guard? We have to act before they can, unless we want them to tell this story for us. And you can be sure they won’t paint a flattering picture of Her Majesty.”
I watch him speak, his shoulders back, addressing the Butcher with the confidence of an equal or even superior. It’s confusing. Philippe Manceau has no reason to like or help me; the Ereni royalists in my cabinet adore him. Yet what he’s saying seems perfectly reasonable—even wise. And after what happened today, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are spies within my guard—not my inner circle of mountain women, of course, but among the Ereni I inherited from Loyce.
“Fine.” The Butcher spreads his hands, and I can’t ignore the sting that it’s Philippe’s counsel that swayed him, not mine. “Tell the truth.”
I nod. “I’ll address the camp now.”
“No,” he says.
I feel my muscles tense further. Does this man have to fight me on every move?
“We need to investigate this ruse further,” he says, and I am aware of how he carefully does not look at Philippe. “I suspect my informant in Tinan may have been discovered—indeed, more than one of them, since I had two sources corroborate the Tinani movements.”
His informant—not ours. Even in his language, the Butcher constantly reminds me that he’s the one with the power here.
“You don’t suspect them of duplicity?” I, too, carefully don’t look at Philippe. “Or anyone else?”
“It’s possible,” the Butcher acknowledges. “That’s why I wish to keep the matter quiet for now.”
“Then I’ll cover for you. Pretend nothing is wrong, while you work on your investigation.”
“With respect, no, Your Majesty. You need to leave,” he says, gruffly this time. “Immediately. We can’t afford to lose you as well. We don’t know who is working against us, and what additional plans they may have. I’ll double your guard on the road back.”
It’s logical. And yet I hesitate, purely on principle, because he’s annoyed me so much.
“Sophy,” Alistar says, the first time he’s spoken in a while. “He’s right. We have to keep you safe.”
I look at Philippe, who nods. “We’ll return to Laon now,” he says.
I release a sigh. They’re right, of course. I need to return to Laon and meet with the ministers, then make a public statement about Elanna’s capture. And if she’s arrived in Laon as she wrote to me she would, I need to be the first person to tell Teofila that her daughter has been taken hostage once again, the same way she was when she was five, by the former king of Eren. Only this, somehow, is infinitely worse.
I swallow hard. “Very well.”
The others begin to move away, toward Rhia—presently arguing with the camp doctor—but Alistar doesn’t move.
“One more thing,” he says. “I’m going after El.”
We all go very still. At last, in a tight voice, I whisper, “What did you say?”
He’s addressing all of us, but his eyes are on me. “I’ll take a party of Hounds, no more than five. We’ll disguise ourselves in Tinani colors; we know the language well enough to blend in. We need to see where they’re taking her, Sophy.”
A frantic pressure is clawing up my chest. There’s a sudden flutter in my stomach, as delicate as a bird, and terror spikes through me. I put my hand to the buttons of my waistcoat. Is it nerves, or is this what a child feels like? But it’s already gone, if it ever was there, and I’m left with hollow fear and Alistar’s eyes on mine. “What if they capture or kill you? It’s too much of a risk.”
“I’ll be careful,” he says, again to me, not the others. His gaze doesn’t leave mine. “You know the Hounds and I will move like ghosts in the night. The Tinani won’t even know we’re there. If there’s the slightest chance we can get El back…”
I can’t speak. I’m aware of my ragged breathing; the thump of my own heartbeat.
Unexpectedly, Philippe Manceau decides to offer his opinion. “It’s a good idea. You might—”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Alistar says evenly. “I was talking to the queen.”
There’s a silence. Philippe and the Butcher are exchanging a glance. I close my eyes to shut them all out. They’ll think I’m hesitating because I don’t want to lose my lover, and they’re right, but it’s more than that. It’s the secret I haven’t told him, the truth that both thrills and frightens me. I have to tell him, but I can’t, not before he leaves. He has to go. If there’s any chance we can save El,
we must try.
I look at him. It’s hard to speak the words, but I do. “Then of course you must go.”
* * *
—
ALISTAR AND I trek back to camp through the dissipating fog, my hand tucked around his elbow. Rhia has already been carted off by the doctor; she seems likely to survive, since she’s spent the last twenty minutes subjecting the poor man to a string of blistering commentary. A light rain has begun to fall, dampening our faces. Guards tramp through the brambles ahead of us, their racket enough to warn away any would-be assassins. I sigh. It exhausts me, being constantly surrounded. But at least Alistar and I have this moment together. At least I can feel his warmth for a few minutes, without guilt, before he leaves for Tinan. The thought makes me breathless again.
“I don’t trust him,” he mutters.
I nod. “You know he was there when my mother died.”
“Not Lord Gilbert—that Philippe. I don’t know what to make of him. He’s polite. We even had a pleasant ride here together. But he knows things we don’t about the other Ereni. Who to trust in your cabinet, and who not to. He’s too damned polite to say any of it directly, so I can’t decide what he really thinks about anything.”
“Well, he is a courtier.” Yet I wonder about Philippe, too. The last thing I expected him to do was counsel me to tell the truth, or to help me try to save El. Even the most consummate actor couldn’t fake so much. Could he?
“You know…” Alistar pauses. “The Butcher might be right.”
“Alistar!” I’m genuinely shocked. “I can’t believe you would say that.”
His head lowers. “Of course you should tell the people. It’s what we fought for. But he’s right about the panic. People are going to be terrified.”
“We’re so helpless without El.” I can’t stop the anger from burning into my voice. “As if we have no power of our own!”
“It’s not only that. She’s the uniting factor, not us. Without her, we’re just Caerisian overlords in Eren, the same way the Eyrlais were Ereni overlords in Caeris.”
“You’re simplifying things. We have plenty of support in Eren. Victoire, Count Hilarion—half the ministers support me…The common people want us.”
“But the people who don’t want us are powerful.”
I press my lips together. He’s right.
“And there are more of them—more Ereni than Caerisians…”
“That’s why I have to get back to Laon. I’ll take charge of the situation. I’ll show them we can be powerful without Elanna.”
He puts his hand over mine. “I know you don’t want me to go into Tinani territory. But—”
“I know,” I interrupt him. “Rhia’s out of commission. You need to go.”
“I wish I could send her and be the one who stays here to guard you.”
My mouth tugs into a sad smile, though I don’t believe him for a moment. Alistar Connell wants to be where the action is, not stuffed in coaches and tramping along palace corridors. Teasingly, I say, “Then I’d have to appoint you captain of my guards, and that would mortally offend Rhia. I value my life.”
He strokes his knuckle down my cheek, quick, subtle. A flash of warmth. “I’ll come straight to you when I return.”
“I should hope so,” I say, and then I wince. For the thousandth time, I remind myself that what Alistar and I have is only a dalliance. The ministers have been pressing me to marry, and the last person they’ll approve of is this bold, brash Caerisian man. So I say what must be said. “But if the Butcher needs you here on the border instead, you and your Hounds should stay here. I’d rather you protect Eren and Caeris now, so we can be together in the future.”
“That’s my Sophy,” he says, and I hear the sad smile in his voice. “Always practical.”
“But not always very much fun.”
“Oh, you can be quite fun…” The peaks of the camp tents come into view ahead of us, and Alistar’s hand slides down my wrist. “Straight back to Laon, is that it? Perhaps I should come into your tent. Review…plans.”
A familiar spark flares through me. Drily, I say, “No one would notice that at all, especially when you’re supposed to be leaving for Tinan.”
He heaves a dramatic sigh. “My darling, practical Sophy. I suppose you’re right.”
“I am,” I say firmly, but at the same time my pulse is fluttering high in my throat. I should let him close to me. I should take the risk, and tell him the truth.
Footsteps scuff the path behind us. I startle back from Alistar’s warmth. Philippe is coming toward us, his shoulders bowed.
Alistar sighs again. “I suppose I should see which of the men are willing to go.”
If there were any time to tell him, it’s now—before I lose him across the Tinani border, or he loses me to the machinations in Laon. Yet as we approach the camp, I feel the nerve seeping away from me, leaving a cold ache in its place. I can’t burden him with this before he leaves, and there is no practical way to tell him even if I wanted to. A thicket of mountain women surrounds my tent. The whole damned camp has ears.
There’s a sudden shout from the outskirts of camp. I stiffen, grabbing Alistar’s arm harder, but then there’s a ululating shout. Alistar’s Hounds of Urseach have found someone—a man on horseback, who thunders ahead of them into camp, his brilliantly woven cloak flapping behind him.
“Ingram Knoll!” I call. He wasn’t due to arrive until this afternoon.
But he doesn’t hear me; he’s seen Rhia being carted into the infirmary and is swinging off his horse. “What’s happened?” he’s demanding of the doctors.
I should go after him, but the tent flap has fallen closed behind him, and fear and worry are already twining too close to my heart. I approach my tent instead, releasing Alistar’s arm, though more than anything I want to take him into the tent with me, grab his chin, and kiss him. Bury my hands in his hair.
I just let my fingers linger for a moment on his elbow before letting go. He sighs.
I face the mountain women. “You heard the news.” It isn’t a question, and they don’t even bother to nod. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“We’ve sent for a coach,” one says, “on the Butcher’s orders. It isn’t safe for you to remain here.”
No, I suppose it isn’t—though who wants to kidnap me? I’m no sorceress whose magic can change the face and fabric of the world. I’m just a girl who seized her father’s crown, and kept it when he neither came to claim it nor even returned her letters. No wonder some people whisper that I’m little more than a pretender. All the gods, how am I going to survive without El? How are any of us?
Going into the tent, I wash my face in a basin of cold water, then pin my hair back up. I know I should be taking better care of myself. Sleeping, for instance. Eating regular meals. Bathing. I smell of sweat and river water—not the odor the Ereni are used to, in their queens.
I should see a midwife, but who would I trust not to tell my secrets to the world?
I go out, brushing my fingers again over Alistar’s elbow. He follows me with his eyes.
The Butcher’s waiting for me outside the command tent, his boots muddy from the river. The unyielding lines of his face give nothing away, not even his frustration with me or his fear of what may happen. He nods at a black coach waiting on the edge of camp, the horses already buckled into their traces.
“Your conveyance, madam,” he says.
An aide brings me a stale sausage roll and a cup of the bitter coffee Rhia likes so much. As if the scent summoned her, Rhia herself stumbles out of the infirmary, a sling trailing from her arm. The doctor’s shouting after her and her father is on her heels, trying to argue with her. She ignores them both.
“I’m coming with you.”
She’s swaying on her feet. I can just imagine the doctor told h
er to stay right here; Ingram Knoll has folded his arms, giving her a stern stare, but I’m not about to leave her behind. I need someone at my side I can trust implicitly. “Good,” I say.
The Butcher frowns. “Lady Rhia, you’re injured.”
Rhia rolls her eyes. Lady Rhia? she mouths at me.
I choke down a laugh. “I need her, Lord Gilbert, even with her injuries. She’s the captain of my queen’s guard. Besides, with her father here helping you, I need someone to represent the warden of the mountains.”
“I see.” But his mouth pinches primly. He probably thinks Rhia’s a bad influence—too rash and opinionated to actually be much help in consolidating power in Laon. He might even be right. But I happen to know Rhia scares the daylights out of my more hidebound ministers—even with a concussion. She’ll be plenty useful.
Besides, fierce as she is, she’s wounded. If I take her with me, I can keep an eye on her.
I’m not about to insult her by mentioning this, however, so I just give the Butcher a significant look. He sighs and glances at Ingram Knoll. Rhia’s father just gives a short shake of his head. He’s far too much a mountain lord for the Butcher’s taste, with his weathered, flinty gaze and colorfully embroidered waistcoat, his thick silvered hair unfashionably long. Yet he’s proven himself a competent army captain—one would have to be, to keep the fractious mountain lords in order—and he and the Butcher have forged a reluctant respect.
I say to Rhia, “Let the poor doctor finish wrapping you up.”
She glowers. “I’m not a sausage.” But she goes back into the tent, her father trailing after her.
“Shall I send an outrider ahead?” the Butcher asks.
“No. We don’t want the news to spread uncontrolled.” I pause. I want to tell him that he should trust me, that I’m not a foolish, callow girl. That Ruadan raised me to think like a leader, to put the people first. But I don’t know how to say it, so in the end I simply nod to him. He nods back. Feeling just as young and callow as I claim I’m not, I retreat to the coach.
