by RJ Metcalf
And then there was Selvage.
Brandon rolled onto his side, staring into the darkness beyond his side of the bed. He’d gone on the mission as a favor to Richard, as he recovered from the loss of his wife. No one expected the Reformers to be crazy enough to attack the parlay, and fewer expected Brandon to pull through after his injuries left him unconscious for two days––despite the best mani-meds the palace had to offer working on him. Today marked what Brandon could only hope would be a new day for peace, if only he could get everyone to see reason. The fact that they’d waited until he was physically healed for this discussion was a miracle.
Sapphire moaned softly in her sleep, curling in on herself. Brandon rubbed her back, sympathetic for the extra aches she’d been experiencing the last few weeks. He sighed and sat up. There was never any harm to arriving early for a meeting with his parents. And maybe Richard would be early as well, and Brandon could find out his brother’s plan for dealing with the rebels.
* * *
“You can’t be serious!”
Brandon’s exclamation echoed in the sparsely-filled Doldran throne room, reverberating off the pillars and in his eardrums. He gaped at his brother, shock gluing his feet to the multi-hued floor. Brandon’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water as his brain searched for the words and eloquence needed to argue against the madness Richard had so calmly stated.
Richard continued talking to their parents as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Clearly they will only escalate their assaults, and will eventually enter our city. We need to defend our land and our people, and we nee—”
“Our people? Those rebels are our people!” Brandon stalked forward, swiveling to face his brother, trying to search Richard’s shuttered eyes for a glimpse of hope that his brother hadn’t completely lost all sanity. No wonder Richard had waited until the last minute to show up for the meeting. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Brandon outside the throne room, where Brandon could try to get him to see reason. “We can’t just wipe them all out because of a minor rebellion. Richard. Do you hear yourself? I understand the need to settle this situation more than anyone, but wiping out the rebels and their families is insane!”
The skin around Richard’s eyes tightened as he finally looked at Brandon. “You sound like Sapphire. Next thing I know, you’re going to want to attempt to parlay with them again.”
Brandon rocked a step back at the vehemence in Richard’s voice, then pulled his shoulders further back than their already-straight posture. “She and I are the same: we want peace. And we will always look for a way to negotiate it. But there’s also a time when such measures don’t work and warfare is necessary. I just don’t agree with the level that you’re speaking so glibly of!”
“Brandon, enough.” King Rupert’s voice cracked like a whip. “This problem is Richard’s to handle, however he sees fit. He should be the one to sit on the throne, not you.” Rupert leaned forward in his chair, the gold embroidery on his scarlet coat flashing in the light. “Richard. Why do you think it necessary to raze the entire town of Selvage? Why not march in, fight their combatants, and be done? They’ve shown some unique tactics that we could adopt for ourselves if we were to communicate with them.” Rupert stroked his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. “How will you defend this action against the advisors?”
Richard’s face twisted. “Because they all need to die.” His voice dropped, husky with passion. A strand of blond hair fell loose from his ponytail, and he swatted it aside with a huff. “If we leave any alive, they will stay on that same thrice-voided land and rise up again, just as they have since Grandfather’s time. They won’t forgive us for annexing them into our kingdom. Ever. Even if it was for the good of everyone. No matter how old or young, they will live there and hate us and come for us.”
“This isn’t some minor rebellion,” Richard continued. He looked up at Brandon through his short eyelashes, piercing him with his burning gray eyes. “It’s because of them that Brandon, their own second prince, was injured. They would have killed him if they’d gotten the chance! Their actions stole away my—our—kingdom’s security. Our peace of mind. They are interrupting our way of life.” Richard stabbed a finger in the direction of the closed double doors, his entire body shaking. “They may decide they want to finish the job. They will come for our children.” He released Brandon’s wide-eyed stare and glared up at their parents. “They will come for our subjects. If we don’t eradicate every last one of them, their fallen will become martyrs, and the rebels will continue to raise fresh generations for their twisted revenge. None can survive. We need to teach them a lesson and show our other subjects that when we say to “stop,” we mean it.”
Gut-wrenching horror pumped through Brandon’s veins as Richard railed. Richard’s passionate temper was in rare form today. The Reformers in Selvage were dangerous. Brandon knew that just as well as anyone else in the room. But … There are also innocent families that live there. There are innocent families here too. A mental image of this morning flashed through his mind: Sapphire lying asleep in their bed, gloriously pregnant and as beautiful now as ever.
He almost hadn’t lived to see that. The fear of the ambush still thrummed in his blood. He couldn’t forget the sickening sight and smell of blood-churned mud. Too many nights he woke up, convinced that the sweat coating his body was the blood of his men. The danger from the rebels was real enough, but bile rose in Brandon’s throat at the idea of killing the entire town. Who was more important to him? The civilians under his watch or his own family?
He was a prince and should put his people first. But he was also a husband and a father, and he had his own duty to his kin.
Brandon looked away, torn. Just beyond where he stood with Richard, both their aides waited in a line, ready to carry out any messages or protect them if danger were to somehow rise up from the shadows. Louis stayed focused on Richard, ready to snap to attention if called upon, while Andre shifted slightly, his square jaw clenched. Brandon grimaced at his aide’s subtle discomfort and closed his eyes. His memories are worse than mine. I blacked out. He had to keep me alive. But what was the best choice? Again, the images of the truce-gone-wrong flashed into mind: following Andre through the carnage, lifeblood watering the ground, families mourning for their beloved soldiers. He couldn’t imagine the pain those families felt, let alone the pain that Richard felt without his own wife, the pain that Brandon would feel if something were to happen to his own growing family.
King Rupert harrumphed, startling Brandon out of his thoughts. “Very well. If that’s how you’ve decided to deal with them, then?”
Richard nodded, his bearing proud and regal, as if he weren’t about to condemn hundreds of souls to shehalla. “Yes, Father. It is.”
Rupert beckoned a lightly jeweled hand to a servant standing on the other side of the throne. “Call for the captain of the eastern garrison. We have a mission for him and his men.” The lad bowed and scurried out the door.
Rupert looked down at Richard, his eyes hard. “Give him your orders. It’s your decision and your command, thus you will be the one to own it.”
“I’d have it no other way, Father.” Richard turned his hot gaze to Brandon. “Brother, I know you don’t approve, but I’m ordering this regardless. Are you willing to stand united with me?”
Brandon sighed and rubbed his face with a hand, purposefully ignoring Richard’s gaze for another heartbeat. Tiny bristles stabbed at his palm despite his shaving this morning. While a tiny measure of relief throbbed in his heart that his parents were still looking at Richard to be the crown prince, his gut churned at his brother’s decision. “I will,” he said finally. “But let it be noted that I think it’s unwise, and I fear we will rue this decision.” He held up a hand to forestall any response from Richard. “But I do agree they are dangerous and we need to protect our own.”
Silence fell in the cavernous room while they waited for the servant to return with the captain, and Brandon
let his attention drift. Allowing such horrors on the rebels and innocent families alike felt like a betrayal of trust.
He sighed and scuffed a boot against the polished floor. Odds were good that only a third of the citizens had any connection with the Reformers. Yet Reformers came out of Selvage more readily than any other town, despite all attempts to quell or parlay the people. How many others lived in the town itself? Two hundred people, give or take? Plus the homes outside the city limits. Families. Elderly. Children.
Movement caught Brandon’s eye, and he glanced up to see Richard’s stiff back and bowed head, his fingers rubbing a golden locket strung around his neck. Rose’s necklace.
“Well,” Brandon turned his attention back to the thrones where his mother sat, her head tilted as she looked at Richard, a mixture of pity and calculation glinting in her eyes. “There is the added benefit that trade and mail won’t be so delayed once this is all taken care of. I, for one, will be quite relieved to hear back about Princess Violet’s arrival.”
Brandon didn’t miss the twitch of Richard’s eye.
The gilded double doors at the end of the throne room opened, cutting off anything Richard would’ve said. A slight pattering of steps preceded the errand boy as he entered and bowed, then announced, “Captain Daniel Stevens and Lieutenant Cole Harris.” He bowed again and moved to the side to allow the two soldiers to enter.
Lieutenant Cole Harris? He must have been promoted after Lieutenant Davies died. A spasm of guilt flowed through Brandon at the thought of so many soldiers dead. All to protect him.
Sapphire would be happy on behalf of Cole for his promotion though. She still spoke fondly of her childhood friend, though they hadn’t had an opportunity to host a meal for him in a long while. Brandon would have to share this news with her during dinner. It would help balance the bitter taste of what was to come.
Captain Stevens strode in with the confidence of a veteran soldier who was accustomed to entering the throne room. He scanned the chamber, then focused solely on the king and queen. The fabric across Stevens’s back stretched taut, highlighting impressive muscles, and his blue captain’s armband appeared to be a tiny ribbon on his massive bicep. Though it was a known fact that the dress uniforms were custom sewn for the higher-ranking military, it seemed that any twitch would shred his jacket.
Just behind him was his lieutenant, whose stature paled in comparison. While Cole walked with ease in his captain’s shadow, his darting eyes betrayed his admiration of the throne room.
The men stopped before they reached the standing princes, and the soldier duo bowed as one.
Captain Stevens saluted crisply. “You summoned me, Your Highness?”
“Yes, I did.” Richard’s reply was slow and measured as he eyed the stocky lieutenant. The man shifted minutely under the scrutiny but kept his face bland of emotion. “I seem to recall only ordering you, however.”
The barest of shrugs sent the maroon epaulets on Captain Stevens’ uniform swaying. “We were at the Crimson Hawk when you called. We were told you had a mission for my men and me, and if that’s the case, I wish for my second-in-command to be here as well.” His thick brow raised. “If that’s permissible?”
Richard shook his head, dismissing the issue. “It’s of no consequence. Yes, I have a mission for you and your men to undertake immediately.”
Both soldiers straightened in anticipation.
Brandon held his breath as Richard opened his mouth.
“Raze Selvage. Every single inhabitant. No matter the age.”
Brandon studied the soldiers’ reactions. Surprise. Concern. Anger. Stony acceptance settled on Captain Stevens’s face while Lieutenant Harris’s jaw hung slack.
Cole shook his head. “You cannot mean—”
Captain Stevens barely twitched his fingers, quieting his subordinate. “Please excuse him.” Captain Stevens waited until Richard gave the slightest of nods, then he continued. “To clarify, you want us to wipe out the rebels and any who stand with them?”
Richard’s voice rang frigid with barely constrained anger. “No. I mean you wipe out the Void Born Reformers and all who live in that poor excuse of a city with them. Their grandparents. Their parents. Their lovers. Their children.” He gestured toward Brandon without looking away from Stevens. “They attacked a crown prince and have thus attacked the sovereignty of Doldra. They have fought and killed our soldiers and envoys. They have disrupted trade. They work to destabilize our infrastructure, and they have cost this city precious life!” Richard sucked in a quick breath and took a half step forward, fists clenching. “Too many months have passed without retribution. This behavior will not be tolerated any longer, and we will not risk them rising yet again. Raze the entire place to the ground. Every building burned to the foundation. Every person dead. Every sapling crushed beneath your boot and watered with their blood!”
Queen Victoria shifted on her throne, catching Brandon’s eye. Her elegant eyebrows drew together in consternation, and she bit her lip. Her expression smoothed as her “queen’s mask” fell back into place.
It had been years since he’d seen his mother show surprise or any modicum of discomfort while sitting on her throne. But Brandon couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever heard such vitriol flowing forth from someone of the royal family, giving a decree such as this. His toes clenched in his boots as he glanced sideways at his brother, then to the soldiers who stood stone still. What were they thinking in all of this? How would the palace rumors circulate this?
“Yes, Your Highness.” Captain Stevens’s clipped the words. “If those are your orders, sir, then we hear and obey.”
“Those are my orders.”
They looked at each other, Richard’s set jaw, daring them to argue.
Captain Stevens’s gaze moved to his subordinate, clearly warning the younger man to stay silent. Lieutenant Harris pressed his lips together, sealing his thoughts where they belonged.
“Yes, Your Highness. We will leave at first light tomorrow morning.” Captain Stevens saluted; his lieutenant’s salute was just a few seconds delayed. They turned to walk out, their footsteps echoing in Brandon’s ears with a steady doom, doom, doom.
The door closed with a thud of finality.
What have we done?
Silence echoed in the chamber, Brandon unwilling to look at any of his family. His hands clenched into fists. They would regret this. As surely as he lived, this would haunt them.
The doors swung open, admitting one of the door guards. A maid with a slightly askew apron curtsied from the doorway, her wide-eyes focused on Brandon as she bobbed into a second cursty. “Your Highness, her ladyship …” She sucked in a breath at the same time as fear lodged itself in Brandon’s throat. “The babe is coming, and—”
Brandon ran past her.
Chapter Two
Slate
Lieutenant Slate Stohner leaned an elbow on the restaurant table and reached across to gently rub his thumb against the back of Lady Charlene's white-gloved hand. This first date had gone better than he’d dared to hope for, considering their difference in interests, and he gave her his most dashing grin. “I hope you had as wonderful of a time as I did.”
A blush rose on her fair cheeks, and she smiled, showcasing her sparkling white teeth. “I did.” She bit her lip slightly and tilted her head, the blue feathers in her fascinator hat fluttering with the motion. She glanced up at him through her lashes. “You surprised me, you know.”
His grin morphed into a smirk. “I did? How?”
Her laugh burst out of her, just a bit louder than was considered polite, and Slate’s heart thrilled to hear it. She covered her mouth with her hand, still giggling. “You have a reputation, you know. An absolute gentleman, and yet a scoundrel when it comes to playing with hearts. You’ve dated through almost all the ladies in the court, and many of the common folk too. When will you find whom you’re looking for?”
Slate kept his fingers over hers while he stretched, restin
g his other arm on the back of the booth. Not quite the surprise he’d expected her to say. He knew he had a reputation, but it wasn’t his fault that none of his dates held his interest for long. Was it too much to ask for a woman of substance, who cared about more than fashion and gossip? Someone who shared the same spunk and fire as his mother and sisters? “I’m just looking for the right woman to share my life with.”
“And you considered me as a possibility?” She shrugged delicately, amusement evident, even as her lips twisted in an almost grimace. “My brother tried to talk me out of this, you know. But what can I say? I was intrigued.” The lesser noblewoman nudged her hand against his. “I think I still am. When will you be free again?”
Maybe this would end better than he’d expected, now that he knew she’d actually gone against Nelson’s wishes. Served her stuffy brother right. Slate really wasn’t a bad guy, dating around for the fun of it. He leaned forward. “I’m free tomorrow.” He winked. “Casual, this time? We can see the traveling zoo.”
Charlene considered for a moment and brushed her free hand against her ruffled dress. “Will there be mud and grass?”
Uh oh. That didn’t bode well. He’d wondered before if her daintiness was her preference, or forced upon her due to the formal events of the noble class. This was a clue. “Actually, yes.” He raised his eyebrows while he lifted his water glass, tipping it in a salute toward her. “Hence the idea of it being casual.”
She didn’t say anything right away, but he could read the answer on her face. Disappointment squeezed Slate’s heart with cold fingers, and he studied the grain of the table, giving her a moment to form her polite refusal. Looked like his list of potential wives was about to be one name shorter.
