"I'll send word once Garwood's taken a turn for the worse. You are his only living kin here, even if it is by marriage, and it would make sense that you're there for his death."
"Thank you, Mother, for convincing Ilara to honor him this way," I said, taking her hands and kissing them.
And for giving me the opportunity I'd been waiting for. Because when Garwood died, Felix and I would be making our escape.
Chapter 27
By the second day of our integrated camp, the initial friction seemed to have died down. The thieves had taken to the regimental training with ease, and the other soldiers were heartened by the sight of new recruits. Farmers brought their daily wares to Jax and Locke, and Beata had more than enough to keep everyone fed and happy.
Everything was running smoothly. I just didn't seem to be the one running it.
I spent most of my time helping Beata in the kitchens. It was menial work to peel potatoes and wash dishes, but at least it kept me out of sight.
"And how long, exactly, do you think you'll be able to hide in here?" Beata asked, wiping her brow as she stirred a large spoon. "Sooner or later, people are going to wonder what they're doing next."
"Just waiting for the ond to arrive," I said, avoiding her gaze.
"You do know there's someone in camp who might know when that is, right?" Beata said, opening the flap to the kitchen and peering out into camp. "And where the hell are those children Jorad promised me?"
"Hm?"
"He's got all these babies in the middle of training," she said with pursed lips as she scanned the houses. "They can't even pick up a sword. I told him to send them in here to help me. They can peel potatoes. He better not have ignored my request."
"We need everyone to be useful," I muttered. "Maybe he has a better use for them."
"Really?" She put a hand on her hip. "Everyone, Brynna? What about that woman sitting in the hut who's twiddling her thumbs? Is she useful?"
My cheeks warmed as that old familiar guilt gnawed at my gut. "I doubt she'd tell me anything."
"She's your prisoner," Beata said. "Make her. Aren't you a princess vigilante? What are you so scared of?"
Failure? My childhood monsters? Being told that I'm soft? Take your pick. "Things are going great right now. I don't want to rock the boat any more than I already have."
Beata released a sigh of frustration and shoved a bowl of stew in my direction. "Fine. But I'm not bringing her food anymore. If you want her to eat, you get to deliver her meals."
I left the kitchen holding the bowl, feeling the gazes of everyone in the camp on me. I forced my shoulders back and head high, even though I certainly didn't feel confident. A few younger thieves stopped and watched me walk by them, but their superior officer barked at them to keep moving.
Celia's hut was in the very back of camp, a small building nestled against the back wall. A twirl of smoke rose from the chimney, although the curtains were drawn. Two guards stood on the front porch, though I wasn't sure why I'd put them there. Celia had been clear—she was sticking around to watch the show.
"Give us a minute," I said to the guards. I didn't want an audience for this.
They shared a look. "I don't think that's wise. She's dangerous."
"Not to me," I said with a half smile. "I have food."
They hesitated, but finally saluted and left the front porch. I made sure they were a some distance away before ascending the final few steps and standing on the porch. I shifted the bowl into one hand and waited, staring at the sky and praying to the Mother.
Then I raised my fist and rapped on the door.
"Who is it?"
I snorted. She'd surely seen me walking up the path. I opened her door and found her seated at her desk, reading a book. It was the first time I'd seen her without any papers or maps or plans. It was like seeing a fish on the banks of a river.
"Can I help you?" she asked. "I'm clearly busy running my camp."
I took a seat across from her and placed the bowl on the table. "A peace offering."
She glanced at it then returned to her book. "I hate stew."
"When is the next shipment of ond coming?" I asked, since she clearly wasn't in the mood to talk. "And what's coming with it?"
She shrugged and flipped the page on her book. "I daresay I have no idea. My job was to keep the path and border clear. That is what I did."
I leaned back in my chair, watching her for a moment before I spoke again. "How long have you been working with Beswick?"
"I wouldn't say working with," she said. "Partnered? Allied with? He seemed like a capable fellow. He's making more progress than you are."
"Do you still feel that way?" I asked.
She chuckled. "After seeing you in action? Absolutely." She paused. "If you can call the last few days action. Peeled many potatoes, Larissa?"
"I've done a lot," I said, my face heating up. "I captured Neveri with nothing but a prayer and a few soldiers. I walked over the mountains in Niemen to Linden. I'm up to nearly two hundred soldiers—"
"And what are you doing with all that you've gained? Nothing." She sat back. "Content to sit around and let that young soldier run your camp. It's no wonder I saw three soldiers leaving last night."
Was she bluffing? I'd have to ask Jorad. "I'm working on it."
"You're soft," she said. "It's the very reason I'm still here, in my house while you play leader in the mess hall. You can't bring yourself to kill me, even though it's most certainly warranted." She smiled. "And so here we are, stuck in a stalemate because you lack conviction."
I opened my mouth to argue, but there was a hurried rap at the door.
"Well?" Celia said. "You might as well answer it. I doubt they're here to speak to me."
I walked to the door and flung it open, looking into the face of one of the soldiers.
"Pardon me, Your Majesty," he said. "But you need to come quick. There's about to be a brawl."
I ran to the front of the camp where Beata, red-faced and angry, was pointing her finger at Jorad, who seemed just as put-out. Having never seen either of them so emotional, I hurried over to break up whatever fight they were having before Beata beat the crap out of Jorad.
"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands. "What's the problem here?"
"Brynna, I must object to this…this…child slavery!" Beata said, putting her hands on her hips as Jorad made a scoffing sound.
"Slavery?" I blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"Jorad has these poor babies up before dawn, running around the camp and saluting empty spaces. Then he has them sword fighting until dusk, with barely any time to rest. These are children."
I could've argued that these children had been used to far worse treatment prior to our arrival, but Beata wouldn't listen to that. "I'm sure Jorad's using good judgment here."
"Indeed, I am. They are no younger than I was when I started," he said. "They're not babies."
"They can't even read."
"They don't need to read to fight."
"Enough," I barked. "Beata, I understand that you're upset, but we have to use the bodies we have."
By now, a crowd had gathered, drawn to the loud voices.
"They're children, Brynna," Beata said. "Surely, you don't condone this."
"We'll compromise," I said, hoping to resolve this quickly before a bigger audience showed up. "Beata, you will take charge of the youngest in the bunch. If they can't hold a sword aloft for more than five minutes, they go with you. Otherwise, they stay with Jorad."
Beata's face screwed up in anger. "That's ridiculous, Brynna, and you know it."
A hush fell over the crowd, and I realized two seconds later that she'd openly defied me. Not me, Brynna. But me, the queen.
"Bea," I said quietly. "You might want to calm down before you make me have to do something I don't want to do."
"You lack the courage to do anything," she said. "That's why Celia's still here, and that's why you're letting Jorad walk all over
you! Maybe we should put him on the throne instead, since you can't even manage to keep the camp together."
She glared at me and grabbed the hem of her skirt, storming off in the other direction. The sound of the kitchen door slamming echoed across the camp, followed by a quiet murmuring from the crowd.
"Get back to work," I snapped at the gathered soldiers. "Jorad, a word."
The soldier followed me out of earshot, but when I turned to face him, he still wore a look of utter fury.
"You can't let her talk to you like that," he said.
"She was just hot. She's under a lot of stress."
"As are we all," Jorad said. "It looked bad."
"I know it looked bad."
"You should discipline her."
I gave him a look. "What, like, a slap on the wrist?"
"The punishment for open insubordination is twenty lashes," he said.
"Yeah, right." I barked a laugh. "Kat would never forgive me."
"And your soldiers might never respect you again," Jorad said. "I don't care who she is or what she means to you, you've got to establish some order here. You can be merciful, but what you did just now was soft."
There was that word again: soft. I'd never thought it would be used to describe me. Still, the thought of ordering a punishment for Beata was sickening. "She was warned, and she backed off."
"Did she? What's to stop her from doing it again?"
"She won't."
"If you punish her, she won't." He took a step toward me. "You need to show some leadership."
Chewing my lip, I turned away from him. I was tired of the chorus of criticisms, from both inside my head and outside. Celia's smirk burned my consciousness, and her words echoed in my brain. I couldn't argue with them, either. Every second I hesitated, another soldier lost faith in me.
Finally, I nodded.
Chapter 28
We walked back into camp, my stomach churning at the thought of what I was about to do. Jorad called for the soldiers to assemble then did his best to round up the younger children. They stood at attention, some of them staring off into space, as the rest of the camp gathered. The second to last to arrive, unsurprisingly, were Jax and Locke, who leaned over the fence.
Beata appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, defiant, but also somewhat resolved. Perhaps she knew what was coming. That didn't make it easier.
"Earlier," I began slowly, my voice carrying across the silent green, "there was an incident at the front of camp. Lady Beata had a disagreement with Lieutenant Llobrega. These things happen, of course, especially when it comes to something we care so deeply about, such as the welfare of our soldiers."
A ripple of discontent echoed across the Forcadelian soldiers.
"However," I said, turning quickly, "it is not appropriate for anyone in this camp to disrespect me. I am your queen, and as such, you've given me the burden of making decisions. You believe I'll do the right thing, and that includes meting out punishment when it's called for."
I turned to my left where Beata stood. She stared into my eyes with little emotion.
"Beata, you were disrespectful to the crown," I said, willing my voice not to shake. "For that, you will be punished."
She nodded. "I accept my punishment."
"Lieutenant Llobrega, what should be the punishment for insubordination?" I asked.
He stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Captain Llobrega gave us five lashes for speaking out of turn. I believe that should be applied here."
I cast him a short look—earlier he'd said twenty. Is he giving her a reprieve? "Very well," I said. "Lady Beata will be whipped five times for disrespecting the crown."
I retreated to the edge of the green while Beata walked to the center post. She'd clearly been expecting such an event, as the back of her dress was loosely tied. Two Forcadelian soldiers undid the binding, leaving her skin bare to the world. The two soldiers bound her hands gently to the post.
Jorad walked up to her with his riding crop and whispered something in her ear. Then he stepped back and let the first one fly.
I flinched when it landed on her back, but she didn't cry out. The second landed, then the third. At the fourth, she released a yelp of pain. And finally, with the fifth, it was over.
Jorad untied her hands and helped her dress. She straightened gingerly, then walked away from the post, headed back to the kitchen. Jorad turned to me, clearly expecting me to say something.
I swallowed the bile in my throat and turned to my troops, who looked almost stricken. "I will not tolerate insubordination. Is that clear?"
A wave of salutes followed, even from the youngest recruits, who seemed more interested in saluting correctly than I'd seen before.
"Continue your training," I said. "And watch your tongues."
I turned on my heel, walked out of the camp, and promptly emptied my stomach onto a tree.
That evening, there was a tense silence in the mess hall. Beata had still overseen the food preparation, but she was nowhere to be found during dinner. Jorad ate on the other side of the hall from me, and none of his soldiers would look me in the eye as I sat down at the table. I'd thought they would be happy I'd gone through with it, but I got the distinct feeling that they blamed me for Beata's outburst.
In Neveri, I presumed to understand what it was like to be a queen. But this…this was another realm. Even during my short stint on the throne, I'd never had to lead an army of soldiers. I'd had General Godfryd for that. And, well, Felix.
Who was currently rotting in jail.
The food tasted like ash in my mouth, and it was hard to swallow. After forcing half my bowl down, I gave up and left the hall, seeking refuge from my thoughts.
Unfortunately, they came roaring back at the sight of the candle in Celia's hut, the sound of her whispering soft in my ear. I turned on my heel and marched in the other direction. But that would lead me toward the mess hall, where everyone hated me.
I spun in another direction, finding myself at a wall. Appropriate. Another direction, the door to the camp. I was spinning in place now, and the camp was closing in on me. I needed to talk to someone, but the only person in camp who might listen was currently furious at me.
Then there was a light—not in Celia's house, but Nicolasa's. I hadn't seen her name on the list and assumed she'd left with Callum. But as I came around the corner, I found her on her knees, digging in a patch of flowers under the moonlight.
"Nicolasa?" I asked. "What are you doing out here?"
"I felt the unease in the camp," she said, staring at the night sky. "It's quite thick and made my stomach upset. I thought I might spend some time in the peppermint plants to soothe my fears." She looked behind her to smile at me. "And you?"
I shook my head and gazed up at the stars. "I really wish I knew what to do. It seems like everything I do fails."
"Not everything, I'm sure."
"I'm completely out of my depth," I murmured, a lump of emotion growing in my throat. "I'm supposed to lead an army, but I can't even keep my most loyal soldiers from fighting each other. How can I lead them to victory?"
"I'm sure you'll figure it out. The Mother's hand is strong on your shoulder," she said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have made it this far."
"The thing is, I don't disagree with Beata," I said, leaning against the fence. "There are some kids who are too young to see war. They need to be protected and allowed a childhood. But they're here, eating our food and taking up space. I can't afford to feed people who don't contribute." I winced, again thinking of Celia. "I can barely afford to feed the people who do."
"Then let them contribute," Nicolasa said. "The swords used in war must be sharpened. Those who carry them need to be fed. Is it not better to use a child to deliver a message than an able-bodied soldier?" She paused and shrugged. "Merely my opinion."
"It's mine, too," I said. "But it's not the opinion of my military leader."
"He's young, the same as you. But he has a good soul." She smil
ed. "He would listen if you spoke to him."
"I have spoken with him. He didn't want to listen."
"You don't seem the kind of person to take no for an answer," Nicolasa said.
"It just feels like everything I've earned is precarious," I said. "The one thing I'm holding onto are these soldiers. If I lose them, I have nothing. And right now, Jorad is the only one they listen to."
"They're here because they believe in what you stand for," she said, her voice losing some of its ethereal quality. "It's why I stayed, why Jax stayed. You're the kind of ruler who debates and weighs the costs of human lives, not one who mercilessly hacks and slices her way toward victory."
"Celia says I'm soft," I said.
"And what does a queen care for the opinions of those she conquered?" Nicolasa mused with a smile on her face.
"I also just let my scullery maid disrespect me in front of my soldiers," I said dryly. "Then…flogged her in front of all of them."
She smiled warmly. "I'm sure she'll forgive you."
"But can I forgive myself for letting it happen?" I asked. "If I'd been a stronger leader… if I'd been able to put my foot down and know I was doing the right thing…"
"Sometimes, the only way to know how to do the right thing is to do the wrong thing enough times," Nicolasa said. "The trick is to trust your own experience, instead of listening to others."
The sound of hurried footsteps drew my attention, and Jorad nearly tripped over his feet as he came up to me. "Your Majesty, we just got a message. A wagon's come through the forest."
I couldn't believe my ears. "What? Where? When?"
"It passed through our scouts about twenty minutes ago."
I stopped, the blood draining from my face. "Twenty minutes? It took you twenty minutes to get this message to me?"
"Well, we had to get it from the scouts at the border, then we had to find you, and—"
I ran my hands through my hair. Twenty minutes was a lifetime—it only took forty to get from one end of the forest to the other.
"Larissa," Nicolasa said with a pointed look. "You know what to do."
The Veil of Trust Page 17
