“If you don’t have a weapon, find one! Move! Fucking move!” Edmund shouted.
“Knights!” Lady Mercy shouted. “Arm yourselves! Protect the archers!”
Another wave of arrows were coming. The shield walls formed faster this time, and even the one around him clinked into place, his own shield rising up to join the metal shelter. Arrows impotently hammered against the side, and not through. Then the shields came back down, hundreds of archers rose up around him and fired off several shots—some of the older elves firing three arrows for the others’ one. It was a mesmerizing scene.
An explosion rocked the ground as the black powder finally caught. One of the outer walls crumbled, pushing in the still-flaming gates.
Edmund stared at the hole and realized he was in way over his head.
“Do we go through the breach?” Mercy asked.
“I’ve never done this before,” Edmund said and wished, very much, it had been him who died.
CHAPTER 25
They were still cleaning up the massacre when Bethany arrived at Castle Brook. Her heart sank as she walked past the bodies. Most weren’t even wrapped. Thousands upon thousands of human, Elorian, Rygent, and elven bodies were lying on the field. Large ditches were being dug to bury the humans. Pyres were already burning the elves.
“Merciful Apexia,” Arrago breathed as their horses navigated their way across what was the bloodiest battle of the entire war—and they’d conveniently missed it. Bitterness settled into Bethany’s heart as she realized that this might have been yet another of Apexia’s interferences. Then again, perhaps it was just how things had unfolded.
More likely, it was both.
“It’s hard to tell who won,” Arrago said.
“I don’t think anyone did,” Bethany whispered.
“Look at those poor bastards swinging.” Arrago said.
Bethany looked in the direction he pointed and sucked in a breath. “Standard practice post-siege, when there are heavy losses. The undisciplined and the traumatized turn to rape and violence against the innocent, to retaliate against their rage and grief. Commanders have twelve hours to bring it under control, and then they start flogging and hanging.”
“Brutal,” Arrago said.
“Necessary,” Jovan countered.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Arrago said.
Bethany spurred her horse. “Let’s find Allric.”
A ragged-looking elf approached them. She leaned heavily on a crutch and was still wearing battle clothes, from the blood and gore dried on them.
“Is Lord Allric inside?” Bethany asked.
“Is that you?” She whispered. “Lady Bethany?”
Bethany nodded.
The elf began to weep. “You’re alive. Lord Jovan! Majesty! You’re alive.” She looked up and said, “Erem!”
“Mercy! Is that you?”
She nodded. “It’s so good to see you. Come, Sir Edmund will want to see you.”
“Where’s Allric?” Jovan demanded. “And where’s Eve?”
Mercy licked her lips. “A lot has happened.”
There were too few people. That was Bethany’s main impression as they were whisked inside the castle. The gates were twisted and bent, and part of the stonework near the entrance was crushed. They’d blown a hole straight through in two places to take this thing. There were still ladders and ropes all over the walls. Just how many had died?
As Bethany walked up the steps to Edmund’s office, she knew Allric hadn’t made it. The worry settled into her shoulders and she slumped. She tried to keep it off her face, but it became an impossible task. Several soldiers cheered when they saw her, but it wasn’t the same exuberant delight as when Jovan’s troops had seen her. This was a desperate desire to have any good news.
Edmund looked horrible. Most of his face was wrapped in gauze and the rest was a bruised mess. One of his hands…sweet grace of the divine, Edmund was missing one of his hands.
He sat at the desk, with what clearly a healer sitting next to him was massaging the arm that was handless.
“Edmund,” Arrago whispered. “What happened to you?”
“I’m alive,” Edmund said flatly. He looked at the healer and said, “Leave us.”
The healer nodded. “I will be back later this afternoon. You don’t want an infection to settle in.”
Edmund heaved a sigh. “The important people are here. I have time for infection now. Everyone, sit down.”
The healer left the room and closed the door behind him.
Edmund turned back to them and said, “First, Lord Jovan, I must…” Tears welled in his eyes. “Lady Eve is dead.”
Jovan inhaled. Bethany put her hand on his forearm and squeezed, but Jovan pulled it away. “What happened?”
Edmund explained how Eve had taken an arrow in the neck and died before they could get her a healer. Edmund’s words were slurred from pain and, from Bethany’s guess, a sizable amount of alcohol laced with potent drugs. She tried not to stare at the bandage on his face, nor the stump on the end of his arm.
“Where is Allric?” Bethany asked.
Edmund lowered his eyes.
“Edmund, where is Allric?”
“He died. I took command of the battle and we fought. But…” He closed his eye. “We won. We won.”
CHAPTER 26
Bethany sat down for the first time in weeks at her own desk and let out a long, steady exhalation. She stared at the two letters on her desk. Most of her work had been removed; they really had thought she was dead. It was an odd feeling to see that some of her things were packed up, her bed made, and no ashes in her fireplace.
If she had died, the world would have carried on without her. She knew that—even she wasn't so arrogant as to think the world would cease being—but it was a humbling feeling to see how the petty nothings of her life would simply move on to someone else. Paperwork would have to get done. Fuel to be consumed. Lives to live. And, eventually they’d move on without her.
On her desk, however, was the letter from Aneese. She’d planned to read it when she got back from her little jaunt in the fields. She needed to read it now. She'd forgotten about the old woman's death a few times over the past weeks—considering she was fighting for her own life most of that time, it wasn't any great shock. Nevertheless, a tinge of guilt was there. She'd had enough space from her grief, and she owed it to Aneese to read the letter.
Next to it, though, was one from Arrago. She'd recognize his flowing handwriting anywhere. She touched it, terrified to open it. He would have written that while he thought she was dead, at least missing. Did she even want to know what he'd gone through? Probably not.
“This room was empty without you in it.”
Bethany looked up to see Arrago leaning against the doorframe. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He was wearing a heavy fur cloak, but underneath he was back in his customary brown trousers and brown tunic.
“That cloak’s too big for you,” she said.
He smiled and looked about the room. “Why isn’t your fire lit?”
“I don’t think the maids realize I’m alive yet,” Bethany said, with a little snort. She looked over her shoulder at the bare fireplace. “I’d light it myself, but I don’t have anything to use.”
Arrago used his shoulder to push himself from the doorframe and closed the door behind him. “I’ll send up one of the maids.”
“Thanks, Majesty.”
“You’re very welcome, Lady Bethany.” He looked at the letters on her desk. “You haven't opened it?”
“Not yet. This is the first time I’ve been in here since we got back. I spent all today and yesterday in…Allric’s office, with Jovan.” She exhaled. “What a mess.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not well. He’s staying with Kiner for now, since I’m staying with Lendra.”
“I know what he’s going through,” Arrago said quietly. “But Apexia was kind and gave you back to me.”
Bethany stood up from her desk and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him and they held each other. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“It’s your job,” Arrago said. He motioned at her desk. “May I have that back?”
Bethany glanced at it. “Why?”
“It's embarrassing. I'd tell you what's in it, but…” He reddened. “I thought you were dead.”
“I know. But…you wanted me to read it. I should.”
He touched her face. “I wanted you to be alive to read it.”
“And you got your wish.”
“It didn't turn out exactly how I'd hoped.”
Bethany smiled. “That's an understatement. I have no idea what's going to happen now.” She grew somber. “We should…talk about what happened.”
“I don't know if I'm ready,” Arrago said. “I can't wrap my head around it.”
“I do understand.”
“Yes, I suppose you do. For what's it worth, I'm so sorry that you had to do what you did.”
“I wanted so badly to save Sarissa,” Bethany said, her voice cracking. “But she was beyond saving, wasn't she?”
“Yeah, she was. I think you did what she wanted but couldn't do herself. What you did was mercy.”
Bethany lowered her head.
“And…” he said, putting a finger under her chin and tipping her head up, “I don't hold you accountable for…Apexia. She chose that path. She used you, nothing more.”
“I'm sorry if you've lost your faith.”
“My faith has been shaken. The person I dedicated my life to was someone who didn't actually exist. I idealized her, though really she was just another flawed human trying to make amends for their past.” Arrago gulped. “In an odd sense, I can respect Apexia more for that. It's made her more real, if that makes any sense. She's no longer this mysterious, untouchable creature.”
“No?”
“No. Instead, she's someone who did great wrong and who kept doing great wrong to fix her mistakes. I don't know. I might never figure this out. But I know one thing. I live this way because it's how I wish to live. My shaken faith will not change who I am. I am this way because it’s who I want to be. No death of Apexia, no transfer of Power or whatever happened is going to change me.”
Bethany quirked a smile. “Oh, I think it already has.” She leaned her head against his. “And I think I love you more for it.”
Arrago ran the back of his fingers along her scarred face. “You still love me?”
“Of course I do. I need some time to…think and work all this out. So much has happened and I’m confused. I need to help Jovan, and Kiner shouldn’t work anymore. Erem’s not experienced enough, but he has the most training. Most of the experienced knights here are dead or too injured to help.” She gulped. “And I…I need to consider what comes next. Things have changed.”
“Yes, they have.” Arrago said. “I’m a widower now. And possibly sorta kinda immortal.” He made a face. “I’m very confused by that last one.”
“As am I.” Bethany laughed. “The Tranquility…well, we’re not a trio anymore. If we count Lendra, we’re the Tranquility six. When I think about it, I have a strong urge to vomit.”
“Let’s take a few days. I have a country that’s in tatters. How about we take a week or two to straighten out our own shit, and then…straighten out this personal shit.”
“You swore twice in the same sentence.”
“Yeah, well, when you hang around with whoring elves all day long, you pick up their bad habits.” He kissed her cheek. “Let me know if you need anything.” He glanced at the letter. “And come talk to me when you’ve read that.”
Bethany sat down at her desk and picked up the letter. “Tell me. Has what happened changed whatever sentiment’s in here?”
Arrago considered the question for a moment. “Honestly, I think it’s made the sentiment even stronger.”
She smiled. Of course he loved her, as she still loved him.
“A few days then.”
“A few days,” Arrago said. He stood behind her chair, and she expected him to kiss her head. Instead, a heavy, warm weight fell over her shoulders. “I’ll send a maid to light your fire.”
He walked out and Bethany pulled the fur cloak around her. She wanted nothing more than for the rest of their existence to be just like this moment of quiet, supportive, coupledom.
****
That night, Bethany knew it was time to deal with the past. She pulled her sofa over to the fireplace for both light and warmth. She pulled a patchwork blanket over her, one made with scraps of fabric in geometric patterns. It was sewn lovingly by the elderly hands of old servants that Arrago had refused to toss out into the fields like his predecessors.
She smiled at that. If he wasn't robbed blind or toppled by a rival, Arrago was going to change the face of Taftlin forever. He might even go down as the most beloved royal in the country's history. And not for his military victories or his extravagance, but for the quiet strength that she knew would hold his country up.
She examined both the letters in her hands. She imagined Aneese’s would have many chastisements concerning her behaviour, deportment, and conduct. She'd put off reading it because she missed that berating commentary. It had kept her temper hot on many occasion and pushed her to keep going in the face of adversity.
Bethany hadn’t wanted to mourn Aneese when the letter first arrived. She’d still not completely recovered from the loss of Drea and Torius.
Father.
It was still so difficult to think of Torius as her father, but there it was. But even if he wasn't her blood relation, that mattered little. He had always been there for her. He'd helped raise her. He'd kissed away the hurts and yelled at the fools in her way. She'd always thought she never had a father. How wrong she'd been. If only she'd realized that before Torius's death.
And to think that he knew, at some point, who and what Apexia was, and forgave her. If he was any other man, she’d call him a fool. But he wasn’t. He had far more compassion, understanding, and forgiveness than she could ever understand. And he was her father.
Bethany snapped the seal on the letter and rested her head against her pillow. It was time.
Bethany,
I've left writing your letter until last, since this will be the one that most likely kills me. No doubt you are expecting scolding paragraphs concerning your conduct, a few snide remarks on your vulgarities, and how I firmly believe you need looser-fitting trousers. However, none of that—though, my child, I would be remiss if I didn’t beg you to consider your wardrobe choices.
Instead, this letter is my final opportunity to tell you all the things I am too much of a coward to say to your face.
I am so proud of you, Bethany. I have always been proud of you. I have never had a daughter, but if I did, I would want her to grow up and be like you. You are strong, and I do not mean your sword arm. You are strong of mind and will and temperament. You will not let someone stand in your way. You will complete your task and defend those who need defending. You will protect anyone you feel is weak, hurt, suffering, or oppressed. You embody all of the virtues elves pretend to exude and never accomplish.
Assuming you have not perished with shock, I shall now give you my last trifle of advice. Then I can hold my tongue in peace and know I've died with a clear conscious: Stop being the Lady Champion.
It isn't what you want anymore and you know it. You will always be a Knight. You will always be a woman of duty and honour, and you will protect the innocent and those without a voice, with or without a title. You are unhappy and have been for some time. You were not made for the politics of office. You do not have the patience nor disposition to deal with the insanity of laws and balance. You are a sword and a fist. You need to accept that and be those things.
There are so many opportunities that would make you happy. I have recommended to the Elven Council that Lendra be instated as a full diplomat and ambassador to King Arrago's court. From her
letters, I know she is working very hard and taking her job quite seriously. I'm as stunned as anyone that a child could step into a role in which countless experienced elves have failed. Granted, King Arrago seems significantly easier to work with than previous Kings of Taftlin. Nevertheless, I'm so pleased with her and the future that lies ahead for her.
Lendra will need a bodyguard. I think you should take on that role. I think you should leave behind the Temple of Tranquil Mercies and your life here. I think you should live in the North. Even if Arrago is married—I know all about his marriage and can infer the rest—he still needs you. What's more, you need him. Love and romance fade. Friendship, Bethany, lasts a lifetime. Be a friend to Taftlin. Teach them how to be good soldiers. Teach them how to be kind and ruthless. Show them how to form a shield wall around their own people. Give them a reason to be proud. Go live your life. Leave our putterings behind.
Freedom is a wonderful world. Go live in it.
I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.
Aneese
Oh, and be a good girl. And, please, looser trousers. You look like Jovan some days.
Bethany smiled at the letter, even as tears ran down her cheeks. The old woman’s words were a balm on the stinging scabs that covered her heart. Aneese understood. Bethany wasn’t crazy; she had been pushed into the situation. Aneese took too much of the blame. The blame rested on Apexia’s shoulders, but perhaps Aneese had been another stone in the path. She was apologizing for it.
“Oh, Aneese,” Bethany whispered.
She would treasure this letter. If she ever doubted her choices from this point forward, she would remember this. She was free. For the first time in her life, Bethany was truly free.
Though her vision was blurry, Bethany opened the second letter. Part of her feared what was included. Part of her was hopeful that it contained the sentiments she never stopped feeling.
My dearest love,
I feel almost silly writing this. Everyone thinks you are dead. Even though I hope you will walk into my room at any moment, my head says you are gone. I have no idea how to live without you. I have tried so hard, and I just keep failing.
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 24
