The question cut through Theodor’s pacing. He sank onto a hay bale next to me, his hands falling into his lap, useless and weary. “He’s against us.”
“And you’ll stand against him?” Kristos raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but I want it in no uncertain terms that noble blood doesn’t run so thick that it will choke our efforts.”
“Don’t be a prick, Kristos,” I said, sitting next to Theodor and pulling his hand into mine.
“I’m not. The king’s position changes what we can do. We can’t count on the full army—though mutiny is a very real thing and we can use it to our advantage. Even some of the common people will be reticent to stand against a king—squabbling nobles are one thing, but a king?” He held his hands open as though letting some heavy weight drop.
“But it doesn’t change what we should do,” Theodor countered. “We return to Galitha. My father surrounds himself with nobles he’s familiar with. He’s been convinced that the shortest route to resolve this is to cater to the noble majority. He would believe it is the right thing to do, and the only thing for a new king with little authority save what is in the title itself to do. He would do it for the right reasons, not because he doesn’t care about his people. Perhaps I can convince him otherwise.”
“You’ll end open sedition by the nobility with a chat over tea?” Kristos snorted.
“What am I supposed to do?” Theodor returned. “The nobility are not all a passel of fools like Pommerly and Crestmont.” Theodor slammed his hand against the nearest wall. A horse stared at him reproachfully. “Undoing our work as soon as I was gone.”
“Planning—so it’s not mere stubbornness but most assuredly sedition, then,” Kristos clarified with a snide grin.
“We’re on the same side,” Theodor growled. “I know full well that they’re seditious, that they’re pissing on our laws. We’ll rein them in, we’ll—”
“It’s too late for that,” I said. Both my brother and my betrothed looked at me, surprised, as though they had forgotten I was there. “Theodor, all you’ve thought of is how the nobility is reacting, what is the king going to do—and isn’t that precisely the problem all along? The common people’s stake is barely discussed. But we know that they will fight now. More than the riot during the debates. More than at Midwinter. Something was lawfully given and is being taken away. They’re already fighting.”
“I know.” Theodor’s hands shook in mine. “And they have justice on their side.”
“Indeed,” Kristos said. “And when your father refuses to curtail them, refuses to uphold the laws of his own damn country? He’s had ample chance already.”
Theodor straightened. “Well, that’s the answer, isn’t it? If the king refuses to yield to the law, I must stand against the king.”
45
THE STABLE FLOOR SEEMED TO TILT, AND THE COLORS BLED INTO one another, and even the sounds of horses shifting their weight and chewing their breakfasts sounded as loud and clear as Theodor’s voice next to my ear. “You realize what you’ve just said?” I whispered.
“I do.”
I barely breathed the question. “You’d face your father across the battlefield?”
“I’d sooner face my father than butcher my countrymen for demanding justice under their own laws. Yes.”
“And can anyone give me any reason we need a noble on our side?” Kristos asked. The pragmatism was coarse and needle-sharp.
And warranted an answer. “Perhaps not, but if he’s not the face of your efforts, who is?” I asked.
Kristos’s ears grew red. “I think Niko and I can have that covered quite well,” he said. “We did before.”
“You did along with Jack. How much Galatine propaganda have you been reading?” He sputtered, and I continued. “It’s rich stuff. Along with me being an interloping witch, and Theodor being a cuckold weakling, you should be aware that the entire revolution is a hostile Pellian takeover.”
“That’s nonsense!”
“But people believe it,” I retorted quietly. I let that sit for a moment, the ugly reality of people’s malleable fears and prejudices. “If the leadership is just you and Niko, there are Galatines—maybe quite a few—who may reject the movement. The people already consider Theodor the champion of reform. They’ll accept him as a leader quite naturally, I think.”
“I would never,” Theodor said, “presume to take sole control of the leadership. You and Niko are at the heart of this whole endeavor.”
Kristos snorted. “That goes without saying. Concessions like that aren’t yours to give,” he said.
“Fair enough.”
“Then we go back to Galitha as brothers in arms, you and I.”
Throughout the exchange, Sianh had remained silent, watching. “And how will you reach Galitha, without the a’Mavha reaching Sophie first?” he finally said.
“You’re released from your contract now that she’s under my protection,” Kristos answered.
“That’s not what I asked. Unless she is expendable to one or both of you?”
Kristos bristled, fully aware of the insult, but didn’t counter it. Theodor considered the problem. “We can’t sail out of Isildi. We know that the docks are watched. But despite that, we have to reach Galitha soon, to raise the army that will hold the rest of the country. Galitha City may be secure, but it can’t stand alone. We need to move.”
“It may be of use to know that the a’Mavha are not strong outside Isildi,” Sianh added. “Their network is here, their numbers are here. Leave the city, sail from another port—it’s not only less likely they would guess at your movements, but they are less able to counter you.”
“Wait,” I said. “Where is this?” I fished Annette’s note from my pocket, still carefully folded and intact despite having changed clothes so many times. At least, in the rush of the past two days, I hadn’t left my prettily embroidered pocket with my other clothes.
Kristos squinted at the names, but Sianh took one glance and nodded. “It’s just outside Port Triumph, in the grove country. Estates, citrus plantations, sugar fields.” He gave me half a smile. “I’ve told you where, now you can tell us what it is.”
“A villa,” I hedged, knowing Kristos was not likely to trust nobility at the moment. “It belongs to a friend. I would suggest making it our first destination,” I added boldly.
“It makes sense. You’ll be close to Port Triumph and we can likely secure passage there,” Sianh confirmed. “In any case, it’s a wise direction to take out of the city. Countryside, few people to ask questions.”
“Wait,” Kristos said. “You’re talking as though you’re coming with us. You’ve been paid, and your bonus will arrive soon.”
“I have very little guarantee of that,” Sianh countered. “And you clearly have use of my services.”
“We won’t,” Kristos insisted.
“Kristos,” I said softly. “I think… I mean… perhaps we could.”
He turned to me, surprise lifting his brows. “Really?”
“He had you under the knife before you could even get both boots in the room. That seems like a useful skill to have on our side, doesn’t it? Especially if the a’Mavha are still contracted to prevent us from leaving?”
Kristos hesitated. “I didn’t budget for a sellsword,” he finally replied.
“I have the coffers of the Prince of Westland at my disposal,” I said, faintly imperious and actually enjoying the power that a bit of money granted me. Then I blanched, disgusted with myself for falling so easily into the same snare in which the nobles had tangled and knotted the country. I turned to Sianh. “We can negotiate your rate later, I presume?”
“You make quite the effective princess,” he said in reply. “But I have something in mind more substantial than merely escorting you out of the country. I would propose you hire me on a longer-term contract.”
Theodor held up a hand. “What do we have going for us that makes you want to join in? We’re walking into a war.”
“Precisely.” His smile was cordial, as though we were entering into negotiations over a bottle of cherry brandy instead of his role in the Galatine Civil War. “And I’ve on good authority that you are unsure of your… military situation. Yes?”
“Fair enough, we’ve covered that,” Kristos barked.
“And who will fight your war if the professional soldiers are under the thumb of the nobles?” He lifted a single finger. “And make no mistake, they will be. The nobility has the money, I imagine. And soldiers like to be paid. Don’t count on that ceasing to matter. Some will desert, perhaps, a few might mutiny. Still. I pose the question: Who do you expect to fight this war?”
“The common people who stand to lose the most,” Kristos said. “We did it once.”
“You failed once,” Sianh countered, earning a glare from Kristos. “Yes, there were other issues at hand, but can you deny that, as soon as the soldiers in Galitha City responded, the revolt was put down quite quickly? What makes you think a large-scale war would be any different?”
“It has to be!” he shouted at the same time Theodor slammed his hand against the nearest post and cursed.
“It can be,” Sianh interrupted before Kristos or Theodor could launch into a tirade. “If you are correct in the scope of the resistance to the nobles, you have bought some time. Even the force of the Galatine army cannot put down every rebellion in every corner of Galitha at once.”
Kristos nodded. “And to the best of our knowledge, they put much of their focus on Galitha City. And are held at bay.”
“Good. Then you need an army to fight for and hold the rest of the country. Not a rabble of peasants with pitchforks. The Galatine army will know how to fight properly—tactics, musket drill, field formation. You need an army that won’t run at the first sight of a bayonet charge.”
“And where do we find an army?” Theodor asked. “Our alliances with our neighbors are a bit strained at the moment.”
“I can make an army for you,” Sianh said. “From your common people. I can turn them from farmers and dockworkers into an army. I was an officer, fairly high ranking. It’s true, I have been… underemployed in recent years. But I know what you need and how to deliver it.”
“For a price?” I said.
“For a price. All things considered, a low one. Pay equal to your highest-ranking officer, a commission in your army, a pension when it’s over.”
“And a spot on the gallows alongside us if we fail,” Kristos countered.
“Understood,” Sianh replied.
“Why would you risk that?”
“Great gain involves great risk. If I stay here, I have no prospects beyond my employment now. Someday I will grow too old for that, and then what?” The haunted shadow behind his eyes told me what that meant to him—not only financial hardship but uselessness, the promise of life as a spent man, wrung out and discarded. I met Theodor’s eyes and nodded.
Theodor understood my approval and didn’t question it further. “That can all be arranged. And if we prevail,” he said, “a pension won’t be hard to manage. But if we don’t—”
“If we don’t, I have failed you.” Sianh straightened his shoulders. “Do we have a deal? I’ll accompany you back to Galitha, continuing to provide what protection I can along the journey. Once there, I will turn your people into an army.”
“You have a deal,” Theodor said.
Kristos grudgingly offered his hand as well. “Then let’s get going.”
46
IT TOOK LITTLE TO OUTFIT SIANH TO ACCOMPANY US. I WAS surprised to discover, as I took stock of the pack and the secondhand gray Serafan riding habit Kristos handed me, that Alba was joining us, as well. “The delegates are all leaving early, given the situation in Galitha. It seems my work continues past the summit.”
“Accompanying the disgraced former consort of the prince seems an odd responsibility,” I pressed. I had never been sure of Alba’s motivations, nor of her connection to my brother.
“It is odd, isn’t it? That a prince’s consort could become so important to the fates of nations. Ah, well.” She smiled, maddeningly complacent, and turned her attention to her stirrups.
“If your friends in Port Triumph can’t assist us in securing passage,” Kristos said to me, with uncomfortable emphasis on your friends as though already blaming me for their predicted failure, “we’ll need to consider other options.”
“I had wondered if we’d have better luck in East Serafe,” Alba said. “And of course, jumping into Galitha blind may not be the wisest option.”
Kristos nodded. “We could consider waiting for news. Or stopping over in Pellia, or even heading for southern Kvyset.”
“No one said anything about not simply returning to Galitha,” I said. “And as much as I appreciate the assistance, I have to be clear—I’m not going to Pellia or Kvyset or anywhere else. I’m going to Galitha.”
Theodor stood beside me. “Same here. And I can’t imagine Sianh would appreciate delays in training up an army. Sounds a daunting task already.”
“I don’t want to delay, either. But getting news from Galitha isn’t exactly easy at the moment.” Kristos wrestled with his pack as though it could absorb his frustrations. He nicked his finger on the buckle of his pack and thrust it into his mouth. “You could try accepting that, in this particular instance, I’ve a bit more experience,” he mumbled around the wounded finger.
“Being forced into exile? Yes, I’m less than experienced.”
“None of this need be decided now,” Sianh interjected. We both snapped to attention, having, clearly, forgotten that our spat had an audience. “The thing now is to leave Isildi. Yes?”
“Agreed,” muttered Alba.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Sianh is right. We have days, at least, before we need to decide anything, yes?”
“Fine. Truce,” Kristos agreed, grudgingly. “But you’ll promise to be reasonable.” He turned back to his horse, absorbed in studying the straps and buckles on the saddle.
I burst out laughing. “You’re going to demand reasonable behavior? From me? And this coming from you? After last winter?”
His back stiffened and he whirled on me. “Yes, even after that. How many ways can I apologize? I was mistaken in the details of that particular endeavor—”
“The details?”
“Yes! Who I trusted, what specific steps we took—”
“The entire mess, then? Who was involved, what you did? The entire spectacular failure of your armed revolt?” I lowered my voice. “You almost ruined me in more ways than one. You don’t get to tell me to be reasonable.”
“I could leave you here.” He threw his hands up. “I don’t have to risk my neck for you. Neither does she, or him.” He jerked a thumb at Alba and Sianh, both waiting a respectful distance from us, pretending they didn’t hear. “I won’t speak for your besotted prince.” Theodor began to argue, but I silenced him with one look. This was between me and my brother.
“No, you don’t have to risk anything for me. You don’t owe me anything.” I felt tears spring hot and fierce into my eyes. “You made that perfectly clear last winter.”
“I made mistakes!” he shouted. “You can’t let me try to atone for those now? Try to make it up, at least, to you?”
I stopped the quick retort that burned to be set free—there was no making up what he had caused in Galitha City, to me or anyone else. No making up the wasted life or the broken trust. But the tears threatening to fall freely told me I still cared enough for my brother that I didn’t want to wound him, even with the truth.
“We should leave. It’s almost broad daylight,” I said instead.
We passed easily out of the city gates and onto a broad highway like the one Theodor and I had taken to the shore. It felt like months had passed since I had dipped my bare toes in the cerulean surf. We rode single file, with Sianh taking the lead early and confidently, our self-appointed guide. Kristos took the rear, pacing himself far enou
gh back that conversation was impossible.
None of us voiced the fear that stalked us, that the a’Mavha had already tracked us and would strike as we left the city. I hoped that, if it came to it, retaining Sianh would prove a wise investment. Theodor was no great swordsman, and though my brother had gotten into fisticuffs a fair number of times in taverns, he wasn’t a skilled fighter.
My riding lessons with Theodor had prepared me well enough to know how to mount and direct and maintain my balance on the horse. I didn’t anticipate our travels requiring more skill than I had—none of the jumps or caracole that festooned experienced nobles’ riding. By midmorning, however, the saddle was wearing on me as much as the silence. I’d taken my share of spills in the training yard and on the park trail with Theodor, but I hadn’t considered that the mere act of riding could induce such misery. By the time we broke at midday, I had made the acquaintance of several muscles I didn’t know I had, let alone that they could scream at me in protest of the abuse I was inflicting on them.
“It gets better,” Sianh said, suppressing a laugh at my stiff dismount.
“I have a feeling it’s one of those things that gets worse before it gets better,” I replied.
“I won’t contradict you.” He glanced at Kristos and Alba, who conferred over a map. “If it’s any consolation, your brother’s seat is worse than yours.”
“That helps, actually.” Kristos shifted uncomfortably, and I laughed. “Though I doubt he has the benefit of lessons. I shouldn’t admit I’ve ever been on a horse before, I imagine.”
“There’s a great difference between learning to trot around an arena and spending days on the road.” There was some faint condescension in the comment, but I wasn’t offended at the truth. He nodded toward Alba. “What I want to know is why the Kvys nun is so experienced in the saddle.”
I had no idea, either, but she seemed to match Sianh’s endurance, and I noticed as we remounted her energetic grace in the movements that felt awkward to me. She and Kristos rode next to one another as we continued into the afternoon, and Sianh reined his horse beside mine as Theodor took the rear.
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