Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4)

by Christina Ochs

  “Good.” Lennart put down the map he’d been fiddling with. “You’ve done well Anton, and you have a bright future ahead of you. I need men like you in my army, and I want you to learn as much as you can from Trystan. He’s not much older than you, but he’s had a great deal of experience, and he’s a born leader.

  “I think you might be one too, but you still have a lot to learn. So follow orders, pay attention, and if you keep performing the way you have, I’ll make you an Estenorian nobleman before long.”

  “You would?” Anton’s head was spinning from the praise. He’d heard of Lennart ennobling some of his generals—Tora Isenberg had just become a countess—but never imagined it might be a possibility for him. “I mean, Your Highness, I’m honored.” He blushed and tried to stop rambling. “I’m honored, and promise I won’t let you down.”

  Anton was already dizzy with thoughts of his promotion, but there was more. At a solemn ceremony honoring those who’d distinguished themselves on the Obenstein, Anton received a huge purse on top of his commission.

  When he counted it later, he realized it was enough to either buy a small farm, a nice house in a city, or several horses of Storm’s quality. After spending a little on the best new clothes he could find, he resolved to be responsible with it, putting nearly all of it with a Richenbruck banker who also handled Trystan’s affairs.

  So far, his wounds had been superficial, but he needed to be prepared for something more serious. If he ever needed months to recover, it would be smart to have money put away.

  At the ceremony, he learned that generosity was Lennart’s usual way. Everyone, from generals down to the lowliest musketeers, received rich, conspicuous rewards for bravery. Anton could see how this might motivate everyone. Those who’d been rewarded wanted more, those who hadn’t been hoped to be next.

  But his happiness didn’t last, once he got the news about Kendryk and Braeden from Lennart.

  Hardly daring to believe it, Anton went in search of Karil, and found him drunk and morose. He’d heard already, since the news had spread through camp like wildfire.

  “It doesn’t seem right,” Karil said. “After all Prince Kendryk survived, why would he die now when things were going so well?”

  “I’m sure he was betrayed,” Anton said. “But not by Braeden.” That was the other awful thing. Bad enough to lose Kendryk, but the thought that Braeden would die for it was unbearable.

  “Of course not by Braeden.” Karil scowled. “Someone else did it and is pinning it on him.”

  “We have to stop them from doing it,” Anton said. “But I don’t know how.”

  “You’re right.” Karil looked up from his drink, his eyes clearing. “We have to stop them somehow.”

  “But it’s already too late. The trial is happening in just a few days.”

  “Maybe they won’t find him guilty. Maybe they won’t kill him right away if they do.”

  “Maybe there’ll be a miracle,” Anton said, shaking his head.

  “Do you know the story about how Kendryk rescued Edric Maximus?” Karil asked.

  “Everyone knows that one.”

  “Well, it was a similar situation. It looked hopeless, but things turned out all right, though it was only because Kendryk acted fast.”

  “We’re too far away to act fast.”

  Karil stood up. “Let’s go talk to General Martinek. He was friends with Kendryk and Braeden. He’ll help us do something.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  They found Trystan in not much better condition, drinking alone in his room at the palace. He listened to Anton and Karil, who ended up talking over each other, but his eyes brightened.

  “I agree,” he said. “I can’t bear sitting by while Braeden is convicted on trumped-up charges. We might be too late, but we should still try to do what we can.”

  He shoved the bottle aside, and grabbed Anton’s arm as he stood up shakily. “Even if we’re too late, maybe we can find out what happened and bring the real killer to justice. Leave it to me. I’ll go talk to the king, then send for both of you.”

  Braeden

  Father Vico returned two days later, bearing a small box. “Cake from the palace kitchen.” He handed it to Braeden. “The princess always gives me extra.”

  “Thanks,” Braeden said. “I’m eating better here than when I’m on campaign.”

  Father Vico chuckled. “The princess wishes to keep you looking strong and fierce for the trial. The more intimidating, the better.”

  “In that case, I’ll practice my weak and timid look.” Braeden wasn’t much of an actor, but he had time to rehearse.

  After showing the father to his barrel seat once more, Braeden said, “I’ve thought of someone who might help me. Princess Galena Sebesta ordered a song written and performed in my honor not too long ago.”

  The priest beamed. “That’s excellent. Oltena is so near, I can get a message to her within days. And a romantic attachment usually guarantees—”

  “Oh no,” Braeden said with a laugh. “It wasn’t like that. The princess was kind, but only because I rescued Prince Kendryk.” He still could barely say his name without choking.

  “I see,” Father Vico said. “Still, that’s good news. She holds you in high regard, and she’s been a stalwart supporter of Lennart’s. I’m still not sure how to manage a rescue, but I hope we can come up of something.”

  “Where am I?” Braeden asked. “I know it’s near the palace, and I’m familiar with the surrounding area.”

  “You are near the palace, in an old summerhouse converted to a prison long ago. It fell into disuse and was used for storage until you came along.”

  “How many guards?”

  “About thirty, from what I could tell.”

  “That’s what I guessed. Too many for me to take on alone and unarmed.” Braeden brightened. “I don’t suppose you might smuggle in a weapon for me?”

  “I’m afraid not. I was searched, and they even took a chunk out of the cake in case I was clever enough to bake in a blade. It still ought to taste good.”

  “I hate waiting like this. How are plans for the trial coming? Will Princess Galena be able to help in time?”

  The priest frowned. “Nearly everyone has arrived by now, but fortunately, I came up with one more person who must be here. He’s old and will travel slowly, with the rain turning the roads so muddy. So you might have another week to ten days. Enough for Princess Galena to act, if she will.”

  “That’s great news,” Braeden said. “How will I thank you for helping me like this? You didn’t have to, and it’s got to be dangerous.”

  “I do have to.” The priest’s voice was firm. “And the danger to me is very small, compared to yours. Bad enough our cause has lost Prince Kendryk, it can’t afford to lose you as well.”

  He stood and made for the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you the big news. Lennart has won a great victory in Tirilis, wiping out and capturing the empress’s pet general.”

  “Now he just has to get through Mattila.”

  Vico shook his head. “She’s gone, probably back to Brandana.”

  Braeden grinned. “So now he can go straight to Atlona before winter.”

  “Maybe,” the priest said, “though he also has to sort out Terragand before Princess Viviane grabs it.”

  “The damn woman,” Braeden growled. “Never liked her.”

  “She doesn’t get better with daily visits.” The priest grimaced. “But I’ll go now, and get a message to Princess Galena. With any luck, my next visit will bring you even better news.”

  Elektra

  Having convinced everyone around her she wanted to go to Kronfels to help Braeden, Elektra didn’t know how to turn the tables. She had to get out from under Major Silberg’s thumb before the trial, since she doubted he’d sit by while she testified against Braeden, or whatever else she had to do to make sure he’d go to the scaffold.

  She had time to turn the matter over in her mind
as they rode toward Kronfels. The weather continued cold and rainy while the roads turned to mud. Elektra was sure she looked a sight and would have to see about freshening up her clothes once she arrived. But she decided against staying in town.

  “I think it’s best I speak with Princess Viviane first,” Elektra said to Silberg.

  “You’re probably right. I hope it’s safe.” The major dropped his voice. “What if the princess was involved in Prince Kendryk’s murder?”

  “I doubt that very much. I’ve known the princess my whole life, and she does not strike me as the type to plot a murder.”

  While it was true Elektra had seen Princess Viviane from a distance a few times when she’d accompanied her mother to Kronfels for Edric’s trial, she’d never actually spoken to her, even though they’d stayed in her palace.

  Elektra had just been a girl then, and both curious and horrified by what she’d heard of the famous heretic. She smiled. Funny that they’d nearly become friends, and that she’d converted mostly because of him.

  Elektra had to admit to herself that without Raysa or Edric Maximus nearby, being Quadrene was hard. She read from the Scrolls every day, and joined in group prayers with her guard morning and evening, but now she felt uneasy and uncomfortable with the whole thing.

  Especially now when she had to interact with people of uncertain loyalty, she didn’t feel comfortable proclaiming her change of heart publicly, if at all. If there was time—perhaps after the trial—she resolved to spend some of it praying in the great temple that had been the site of Edric’s trial. It had become a place of Quadrene pilgrimage, and perhaps she would find a sympathetic priest or priestess to confide in.

  She was certain she was doing the right thing by testifying against Braeden. He wasn’t Quadrene himself, and while he’d been helpful to their cause, she doubted the gods would look upon someone like him with much favor. Personal revenge was secondary to ridding the world of a dangerous, untrustworthy person. If she was ever to become empress she had to be firm about removing those who stood in her path.

  Elektra had hoped to leave her whole guard inside the city while she figured out what to do about Braeden, but Major Silberg wouldn’t hear of it.

  “I’m sure there’ll be a parade ground we can use,” he said.

  “But the weather’s so awful,” Elektra protested. “You’ll be so much more comfortable in town.”

  “I didn’t take on this commission to be comfortable,” the major said. “I’m here to protect you, and until I’m certain this princess is trustworthy, you won’t get rid of me.”

  Princess Viviane was surprised to see her, but offered a friendly welcome. “Your escort can camp here, and I insist your officers stay in the palace. There’s even someone here you might know,” she said, showing Elektra into her study after firing off instructions to the servants about accommodations.

  Only Major Silberg protested against being led away, and insisted on standing guard inside the door.

  Elektra was annoyed, but there was nothing she could do about it without arousing suspicion. “I can’t imagine who you mean,” she said with a bland, social smile.

  “I’ve already sent for her.” Princess Viviane waved over a servant, who brought coffee and a plate piled with at least a half dozen different kinds of cake.

  Elektra hadn’t had coffee in ages, and she sipped at it happily, remembering how she and Raysa enjoyed drinking it every afternoon. She was hungry too, having eaten horrid camp food for weeks now, so she started on a piece of cake while the princess talked.

  “I was so surprised to see her, but it seems she had a falling-out with your mother.”

  “Mm-hm,” Elektra said, swallowing her mouthful and saying. “No one gets along with my mother.” She’d said nothing so far about being Lennart’s ally, and rather hoped she might figure out how friendly Princess Viviane was to his cause before committing herself to anything.

  “So I’ve been told,” the princess said. “I always did well enough with her, but I’m used to managing difficult characters. I loved my late husband dearly, but he was, well ...”

  She trailed off and Elektra offered, “Difficult?” before grabbing another piece of cake.

  “Precisely.” The princess smiled. “Oh, here she is.”

  The door opened, and Countess Biaram walked in.

  Elektra nearly dropped her cake. “What are you doing here?” she burst out before she could stop herself, even though it was rude.

  “Visiting friends,” the countess said, crossing the room to bow before Elektra. “I’m so pleased to find you well, Your Grace. I was so worried for you the last time we saw each other.”

  “Oh yes, a great deal has happened since then.” Elektra was reminded of Countess Biaram orchestrating her escape from Atlona, and that she consequently owed her a great favor. “Is everything all right in Atlona?”

  The countess shrugged as she took a seat. “Your mother is the same as always.”

  “Awful then.”

  “Well, yes. But to be honest, I’m sick of talking or thinking about her. What about you? What are you doing in Kronfels?”

  “I heard about Prince Kendryk’s murder.” Elektra wished she could get away from the princess, but especially Major Silberg, glowering at the countess from his post. “And thought I should be here for the trial.”

  She wasn’t sure how to explain her Estenorian escort, but decided not to volunteer any information.

  “Indeed.” The countess gave Elektra an inscrutable look and changed the subject to the travails of mutual acquaintances. She chattered for quite a long time, then stopped herself and said, “Goodness. You must be exhausted, Your Grace, and here I am going on forever.”

  Elektra smiled at her gratefully. “It’s true, I’m rather tired from the journey. You don’t mind if I rest before dinner?” she turned to Princess Viviane.

  “Not at all. In fact, I’ve given you the suite your mother stayed in when she was here for the Landrus trial. It seemed fitting somehow.”

  More than you realize, Elektra thought as she rose.

  Major Silberg wasn’t so easy to shake, but once Elektra whispered to him that Countess Biaram had helped her escape her mother’s clutches, he relaxed and consented to go to his room for a little rest. He left guards at her door, but they didn’t hesitate to admit the countess when she appeared a few minutes later.

  Gwynneth

  The trial was still a few days away, but Gwynneth took no chances. She and the children rode hard at the head of Prince Dristan’s troops, while she thought about what to do once she reached Kronfels.

  Devyn had plenty to say on the matter. “You must order Princess Viviane to stop the trial,” he said. “She’ll have to listen to you, because you have an army.”

  “It’s not my army. They’ll follow everyday orders, but I doubt they’ll threaten another Kronland ruler on my behalf.”

  “You must make them.” Devyn frowned. “I’ll make them.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Gwynneth’s tone was sharper than she wished. She was having a hard time controlling her emotions, and the slightest provocation sent her into floods of tears. She prayed that would improve by the time she reached Kronfels, since she doubted she’d convince anyone of anything as a hysterical mess.

  Gwynneth pushed her grief down deep, twisting it to anger. She had to remember not to turn that anger against her children, no matter how difficult they were.

  Stella had finally stopped crying, turning sullen and silent, only speaking to snap at anyone who bothered her. Gwynneth let her be.

  Devyn wouldn’t stop talking, consumed with plans and ideas for helping Braeden.

  In some ways, she welcomed the constant chatter, since it distracted her from other, awful feelings. Until Braeden was safe, and Maryna found and installed as Princess of Terragand, Gwynneth couldn’t indulge in grief. Bad enough she’d already wasted a few days in Princess Edda’s guest room.

  They crossed into Isenwa
ld at Lerania. Its great stone bridge had never been rebuilt, but it had been replaced by a wooden one, which still served its purpose. It wasn’t wide, so it took hours for Gwyneth’s troops to cross.

  While she waited on the other side, she had a stroke of luck.

  “Mama, look, it’s my friend.” Stella spoke up.

  Gwynneth looked to where Stella pointed, and saw a small cluster of cavalry troops nearby. They bore no banner, and she couldn’t tell who they belonged to, but an instant later, she recognized the young woman at their head. She jumped up from her seat in the grass, and waved.

  “Trisa Torresia?” she called.

  The young woman whirled in her direction, turning pale when she recognized Gwynneth. Then she dismounted and hurried over.

  Stella ran toward her, and Trisa picked her up, carrying her back to Gwynneth and Devyn.

  “Your Grace.” She looked anxious. “I trust you’ve heard the news?”

  “I have.” Gwynneth nodded. “I’m going to Kronfels for the trial.”

  “He didn’t do it.” Trisa put Stella down, though the little girl still clung to her leg.

  “I know,” Gwynneth said. “That’s why I’m going. I can’t imagine what happened, though I intend to find out.”

  “We must be careful,” Trisa said. “Princess Viviane’s troops are looking for me and my people. We’ve been passing ourselves off as Mattila’s scouts, but I really need to get out of the kingdom.”

  “Please come with me. I’ll keep you safe.” Gwynneth nodded toward the troops still streaming over the bridge.

  “Yours?” Trisa asked.

  “Borrowed, but they must do.”

  “The problem is,” Trisa said, her voice still strained and anxious, “Braeden will be found guilty. There are no witnesses in his favor.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  Trisa shook her head. “Very little. The moment I heard the prince was dead and that Braeden had done it, I was certain something had gone wrong. Braeden worried that something was up, so he made me stay in town.