Allric shrugged. “Let us know if you change your mind.” He turned to Jovan. “Anything new at your end?”
Jovan covered his concerns regarding training and morale, and how they needed to fight someone soon or the waiting might kill them quicker than the coughing sickness.
“I can plan some training exercises with them,” Bethany suggested. She knew exactly how the troops were feeling; she was ready to crawl out of her skin, too.
“That’s not necessary,” Jovan said. “I can do it.”
“I don’t mind running a few. I enjoy it and I’ve been sitting behind a desk—”
“It’s not necessary,” he repeated.
She glared at him and the other men at the table. “I’m not sick.”
“No one said you were,” Kiner said calmly.
“I just want to run my own exercises,” Jovan said. “I’ve also been stuck behind a desk.”
Bethany glanced at Allric, but he didn’t react. “I have a mild cold, nothing more.” She gritted her teeth and choked back the cough that tickled at her lungs.
“Yeah, not sick at all,” the King said. Bethany glared at him, but all that did was make the corners of his mouth quirk up. “Well, not too sick to lose your glare. There’s hope for you yet.”
Bethany held her look for a beat longer, but then her lips twitched and she turned away with a soft chuckle.
“Bethany? Any concerns from your end?” Allric asked her.
“Same problems as last week, only now a week older. We’re nearing the end of our food stores. The elves are hungry. The humans are restless. Everyone is cold and damp now the snow is melting. I’ve been working with Queen Celeste and Lendra to coordinate…” Bethany sighed. She was a soldier and not an administrator. “Lendra is trying to purchase a large shipment of leftover salt fish from the Cul navy. It’s poor quality, but we can probably use it if we boil the life out of it. Most of the elves won’t eat fish, but the humans and a lot of the younger Elorians will. That’ll free up what’s left of the cheese and dried peas for the elves who follow the food rules.”
She hadn’t forgiven Allric for putting her in charge of logistics. This was a perfect job for Erem, who loved accounts and numbers. She hated all aspects of it, and it was even worse now that she was working with Lendra and Celeste on an almost daily basis.
“There is some good news, too. The Queen secured another thousand blankets. We’re still paying a premium price for furs, leathers, and linen. Lendra found a couple dozen poor women in the surrounding area and had them brought to the main camp. She says most of them are elderly, so the troops have really taken to looking after them, and the ladies are bonding quite quickly with the soldiers. They’re mending clothes, sewing new padding, and that sort of thing. It’s working well and I think it’s improving morale, but it’ll also keep us better equipped for when the push comes.” Bethany shrugged. “There’s never any shortage of poor, so Lendra’s people have had an easy task finding ready workers whenever we need them.”
“One problem at a time, Bethany,” the King said quietly.
“It wasn’t a criticism, Majesty,” she said, almost gently. “Daniel undid decades of his father’s hard work.”
“The fact there are old women starving in the gutters says Richard didn’t work hard enough, either. Nor that I am working hard enough to get them out.”
Bethany stared at the King and, for that moment, there was a glimmer of the old Arrago she knew and loved. She didn’t let those thoughts linger.
“I’m nearing the end of this month’s budget already, though, and we’re only in the first week. I recommend we secure more funds from Wyllow or we’re going to go broke. Of course, we could always go back to fighting this war. That way, we can end it and go home. Or, at least die, and then we won’t have to worry about our debts.”
“Thank you, Lady Bethany, for that grim report.” Allric’s mouth twitched, but he held back what was clearly a smile. “As soon as anyone has a useful theory on how to take down the Magical barrier, I will let you lead the charge.”
Bethany didn’t reply. She couldn’t take down the barrier. She’d taken down one such Magical boundary before, when she’d first invaded Taftlin. Not now, though. Whatever Power once ran in her veins was gone. She suspected Sarissa had stolen it, though she didn’t know if that was possible. She’d tried reaching out to her mother for answers, but Apexia remained silent.
So Bethany remained silent now. She was grateful for Allric’s arrival weeks ago, and she was very grateful when she put him in charge of the army once more. This was her holy war, yes, but she wasn’t experienced enough to manage the many logistics of a sustained attrition war against Magic. Swift destruction was her skill. This careful planning was not for her.
How she wished she’d been told to go forth and find something to smite, as opposed to finding blankets.
King Arrago broke Bethany’s quiet reflection. “Lady Bethany, Lendra mentioned that you’re having trouble with the fireplace in your study.”
“It’s nothing, Majesty,” she said automatically. Kiner cleared his throat and Bethany looked up at him, frowned at Kiner’s expression, and then looked at the King. “Thank you for asking, but one of the chambermaids replaced the screen and now I don’t risk burning to death.”
“Ah, good.”
The silence continued until it was unnecessarily awkward. That’s when Jovan piped up, “I think that’s everything for today. Oh, Arrago, before I forget, we’re changing the guard rotation in your and the Queen’s wings of the castle. There was a break-in two nights ago, one floor down from hers. It looks like someone was stealing candles, but nevertheless we’ve increased our patrols inside. Can you tell the Queen?”
Arrago nodded. “Thank you, Jovan. I will.”
“Then let’s get on with our day,” Allric said. “We have plenty to do now the ice is melting.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Friday, then?”
Everyone nodded in agreement to their twice-weekly meeting. Jovan said, “Oh, who’s coming to the card game tonight?”
“I’m in,” Allric said. “I have my dignity to win back.”
“It’s going to take a long time to win back your dignity,” Jovan said. “Arrago, you coming?”
“Yes, but I’ll be late. Celeste’s uncle is visiting and I have to dine with him.” He sounded disgusted.
“Ah, the duties of a married man. It’s why I told Eve I’d never marry her.”
Kiner rolled his eyes. “More like Eve said she’d never marry you.”
“Just shows she has good taste,” Jovan replied. “You coming tonight, Kiner?”
“I’ll be there. Bethany?”
Bethany looked up and realized they were waiting. She shook her head. “Not this time. I don’t feel well today.”
“You haven’t felt well in weeks. Come on,” Jovan coaxed, “It’ll do you good.”
She forced a smile. “I’ll see how I feel later tonight, but don’t expect me.”
She felt their disapproval and concern, but mentally waved them off. She didn't feel well. It was bad enough that she had a lingering cough and a mild fever that made her perpetually sweaty and cold, but she'd not been sleeping, either. Not for months. Her body had healed as much as it would, but the phantom pain lingered. She could feel the crushing blows against her spine even now. Some days, she could recall what she'd thought were her last gasps. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the wails of death around her as her friends and soldiers gave their lives for her war.
Bethany sucked in a breath and forced a smile; she needed to push the melancholy out of her voice. “I promised Lendra I'd eat supper with her.”
“Lendra's coming to play,” Kiner said matter-of-factly.
“Oh. I guess I got my days mixed up.” She smiled at them again, this time a dismissing gesture. Then she walked out of the room, her assistant bustling behind her to pack up her papers and follow in her wake.
Bethany walked on through the maz
e of narrow corridors and spiral staircases to her quarters. With Allric's arrival—and that of the partially-rebuilt navy—three months previously, they'd successfully recaptured the large island off Taftlin's coast. It was technically an island, though it was connected to the mainland with several rock and gravel causeways.
It housed the castle that was the King's summer retreat, and though bitterly cold out there in the winter winds and ice, its storerooms were stocked with a full year's food and plenty of clothes, blankets, and supplies to help keep them afloat until the first of the spring crops were harvested.
Arrago was right; the Taftlin militia would need to be released soon to tend their fields. Winter wheat didn't grow here, but it grew further south and was already being harvested. Even now, Lendra and Celeste were probably writing letters of business, negotiating deals of purchase.
That brought a genuine smile to Bethany's face. Lendra had really grown up. Celeste had taken the young Elorian under her tutelage and had helped Lendra grow into the role of ambassador. Sure, Lendra was a baby still and not equipped to deal with complex political negotiations, but that was never her role. And her personality and kindness did make trading easier, as was forging alliances for profit.
And it was good of Celeste to take Lendra on. Big with pregnancy, Celeste was obviously tired and didn't need to be teaching and worrying about Lendra. But she did it, and seemed to do it joyfully. Bethany had offered several times to speak with Lendra and have her removed from Celeste's attention, but the Queen wouldn't hear of it. She liked the girl, she said. It was nice being around someone who still had so much excitement, and even though Lendra was old enough to be the Queen's grandmother, she possessed many child-like qualities that Celeste loved. It made her feel young, Celeste said.
Young. Celeste was barely out of her teens herself, and yet she needed an eighty-year-old half-elf to make her feel young. What horrible lives these Northern women must lead.
A coughing fit broke Bethany's thoughts and she stopped on the spiral stairs and leaned against the stone pillar to bark out several lung-emptying sounds. Dammit, she wasn't fighting off the sickness any better than the rest of her people. She'd had the coughing sickness before, so she knew that's what she had. She didn't tell the others, though. She didn't want them to worry about her more than they already did.
If she kept hacking up lung fluid, though, they’d figure it out.
It was possible that was why Allric had put her on logistics and not planning the next offensive. She'd not done a bad job of invading the North, defeating Daniel, and holding the territory until reinforcements arrived. In fact, Allric had complimented both her resolve and results.
So why did it all feel like a colossal failure?
Bethany walked down the corridor to her study. She’d wanted to stay with her own division of soldiers, but King Arrago threw such a fit that she’d relented to get him to shut up. They’d all moved their administrative staff into the castle, with as many of their men as possible. It had been Jovan's idea to do week-long guard rotations inside the castle, stables, and the side buildings, with as many of the regulars as possible, to get them inside and out of the weather for a few days. It wasn't possible to get through everyone—there were simply too many soldiers and too few buildings—but he tried all the same.
Bethany pushed open the wooden door to her study. It was a simple room: a large desk near the fireplace, a chair, and some candles. Wood burned in the hearth, casting a warmth for her chilled bones. There was the most uncomfortable-looking chaise longue on the other side of her study, pushed up against the wall. A door led to her bedchamber, which had no fireplace, so she slept on the chaise most nights.
She sat at her desk and noticed the wrapped package immediately. She unraveled the leather string and unrolled the leather pouch. Inside were a number of letters, including one addressed to her. She opened it.
It is with a heavy heart that I write to you to say that Mother Aneese, the leader of the Apexian Order and the head of our Faith, joined Apexia on the Wind early this morning.
Bethany stared at the words in disbelief. Aneese was dead. She read the sentence three times before she accepted that her eyes had not deceived her. The old woman who’d battered against Bethany’s will all these years was gone, leaving an empty hole in her wake.
The Holy Mother had been in good spirits, though her body had been declining for some time. In the weeks leading up to her death, she delegated most of her duties to junior sisters and priests. She must have known she was dying, though she’d not said anything to her aides. That was her way in all things.
Enclosed you will find several letters. Would you be so kind as to distribute them accordingly? Mother Aneese wrote them two days ago. She left instructions for them to be sent upon her death.
I know I’ve asked a grievous task of you during this troubled time, and I apologize for any offence if I’ve given it. Mother Aneese always spoke so fondly of you and, if I might be so bold as to offer my opinion, I believe she would have liked you to receive the news first.
You will no doubt receive further updates in the days and weeks to come, once the mourning process ends and the politics of choosing begins. I will spare you my thoughts on that subject.
May the grace and love of Our Goddess heal the ache in all of our hearts.
Malachi of Sarrington
Senior Aide to Mother Aneese
Bethany closed her eyes and buried her face in one of her hands, the other still holding the letter. She’d known Aneese since she was ten years old, when Jovan’s parents brought her to the Temple of Tranquil Mercies for safety. Aneese had been a tyrant who needled her, scolded her, and criticized her every move.
She’d never realized how important Aneese had been to her. Bethany had spent a goodly portion of her life annoyed at Aneese, and she enjoyed the childish games, like refusing to call her by rank and title. Now Aneese had been taken away without the chance to say good-bye.
Waves of memories washed over Bethany, each leaving her emptier and sadder. Bethany wept for the woman who, despite all her bristles and thorns, had dedicated her life to helping others. She’d stood against politicians who made choices to hurt the innocent. She’d fought when her home was attacked. She’d given up her own dreams and needs to give her life to her faith.
It had never occurred to Bethany, until that moment, how alike she and Aneese were. With different twists of fate and circumstance, their roles could have been seamlessly switched. In Aneese, Bethany could see her own possible future, one filled with duty and dedicated to a cause higher than her own desires.
And Bethany wept all the harder.
“Lady Bethany?”
She snapped her head up to find Queen Celeste standing in her doorway. Celeste was a young human woman with pale skin and blond hair. She wore regal, though simple, clothing of rich velvets to keep the chill out of her bones and to protect the growing life inside her.
“Your Grace,” Bethany said in a quivering voice, wiping at her eyes. She realized her mistake as soon as Celeste’s mouth quirked up. “I mean, Majesty. What can I do for you?”
“Is there anything I can do you for?” The Queen stepped inside and closed the door. She pushed the locking mechanism, ensuring privacy. She leaned against the wooden door, concern written on her face. “I don’t mean to stare. I’ve never seen you cry.”
Bethany forced a smile. “Despite popular opinion, I do have a heart.” She glanced at the letter crumpled in her hand. “It occasionally gets battered.”
Celeste smiled, though the worry didn’t leave her face. “I’ve never doubted it. I apologize for interrupting what is clearly a private moment. May I come back tomorrow?”
“Please stay.” Bethany folded up her letter and stuffed it under the small collection of folded letters in the skin wrap.
“Is that a letter for Arrago? I can deliver it for you.” She held out her hand.
“No,” Bethany said, too quickly. She gave Celeste a ne
rvous smile. “I mean, I expect there is one, but I was instructed to deliver them personally. Now, please, sit. You’re making me tired standing there with that swollen belly.”
Celeste threw her head back and laughed. She made her way over to the chaise longue and eased herself down. Bethany stepped away from her desk to offer a hand, but the pregnant woman waved her off.
Normally Bethany would have welcomed any distraction from her grief, but she would have preferred it to be related to the war, or Jovan inviting her to play a game of cards. A pregnant Celeste was not what Bethany wanted, and she struggled to keep her own conflicted emotions about the woman off her face. But the news of Aneese had struck her hard, and everything was close to the surface. She had to be careful.
“Can I get you anything? Food or drink?” Bethany offered. She eyed Celeste’s stiff body posture. “A pillow?”
The Queen smiled. “Just your company for a few minutes.”
“I am at your disposal,” she said, running her hand across her eyes. She forced a smile and leaned against her desk, hardening her heart for whatever might come.
Celeste could just be making a simple request for healing assistance for the Taftlin populace, an appeal for blankets for the poor, or demands that Bethany stay far, far away from the newborn child once he or she entered the world. She might demand Bethany stay away from Arrago, or might demand Bethany stay near him. All she knew was that she had been avoiding this conversation for a long time.
“I have been struggling for two months now to find the best approach for this.” Celeste paused, obviously still struggling to find the right words. “Would you prefer it if I spoke plainly?”
“I can’t stand bullshit,” Bethany said. “Always speak simply with me.”
Celeste nodded. “Then allow me to cut through all of the bullshit, as you call it. Have I done anything to offend you? Has Arrago?”
Bethany stared at her, unable to find the appropriate reply. She was weary and raw. They had done nothing to offend her, and the question rubbed against the raw skin that was still healing.
“If either of us has, please tell me right now and I will correct it.” She quirked a smile. “Or scold Arrago accordingly.”
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 2
