Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4)

by Christina Ochs

A stuffy footman showed them into a room and snapped, “Wait here,” in an unfriendly tone.

  But moments later the door flew open and a tall blond boy strode in. Anton sprang to his feet and the boy stopped right in front of him.

  “Gods,” he said, “it really is you, Anton. We all thought you were dead.”

  “Your Grace?” Anton finally recognized Devyn. The last time he’d seen him, he was a chubby little boy. Now he looked a younger version of King Arryk. “I thought you were dead too.”

  Devyn shook his head. “I’m so glad both of us were wrong.” He shook Anton’s hand, a smile on his face, then turned to Karil and greeted him in a friendly way.

  Anton hurried to introduce Trystan and they all stood grinning at each other for a moment.

  The door opened again with a rustle of skirts, and Princess Gwynneth came in.

  Anton stood there like an idiot for a moment. He’d forgotten how stunning she was. He bowed over her hand without making a complete fool of himself, but the princess shocked him by pulling him close, and squeezing him rather hard.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she murmured in his ear. She was very warm and smelled incredible, so Anton felt shaky by the time she let him go.

  He was pleased to see that, while Gwynneth’s greetings to Karil and Trystan were friendly, neither one of them got a hug.

  Anton caught Trystan scowling at him, and shrugged. He couldn’t help it if beautiful women liked hugging him.

  Gwynneth made them all sit, then sent for refreshments. They had to tell her the whole story of all the battles again, and why they’d come.

  When they told they’d wanted to rescue Braeden, her eyes grew damp. “That was very good of you,” she whispered.

  No one knew what to say to that and a lump formed in Anton’s throat, Gwynneth looked so sad.

  As always, Trystan wasn’t afraid to speak up. “Your husband was always good to us,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “And news of his death was a terrible shock. It seemed too unfair that Braeden should be punished for it. And besides, he was a good friend to us too. We had to do what we could.”

  “Well, I appreciate it,”Gwynneth said. “Prince Devyn and I will leave for Terragand soon, but you must stay here at least a few days. I suppose then you’ll return to Lennart.”

  “Not just yet,” Trystan said. “In the absence of someone to rescue here, we’ve decided to find the Princess Maryna instead.”

  “You have?” Gwynneth’s eyes grew wide. “How do you plan to do it? I have no idea where she is. All I know is that my brother saw them onto a ship bound for Galladium last summer.”

  “We’ll go to Galladium first,” Anton said. “Perhaps the king has news.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea. I’ll write a letter for you to take along.”

  “Oh please Mother, might I go too?” Devyn pleaded. “It ought to be such fun.”

  “I’m sorry darling, but you can’t. You’re needed in Terragand until your sister returns.” Gwynneth clasped her hands together and turned back to the three boys. “You doing this gives me such hope. I refuse to believe Maryna and Natalya are gone for good, but it’s too easy to despair when we’ve had no news for so long.”

  “If something awful has happened to them, I’m sure we would have heard,” Trystan said. “We’ll find them, I promise you.” And he stared at Gwynneth in a way Anton thought was meant to be seductive, though because it was Trystan, it just looked strange.

  A small smile quirked at Gwynneth’s lips. Maybe she thought Trystan’s look was strange too. “I believe you,” she said.

  They had dinner with her and Braeden that night, and the Archduchess Elektra. She was a surprisingly plain-looking girl, and timid, for being Teodora’s daughter. As they took their seats, she seemed to make a big effort to say, “Hello Karil,” in a voice so faint Anton barely heard it.

  Karil frowned, and looked like he wanted to say something mean, but then Braeden scowled at him, so he said, “Hello Your Grace,” in an equally small voice.

  Anton sat next to her and found conversation hard going. She seemed interested in military matters, but didn’t care much about horses, so Anton had little to say to her after a time.

  Fortunately, Gwynneth, Braeden and Trystan kept up a lively conversation, as everyone got caught up on the happenings of the past few years.

  There was a bit of awkwardness around the story of Braeden kidnapping the archduchess and how she got away. But before it got too bad, Princess Gwynneth ordered another round of wine, and they drank a toast to the success of their mission and Natalya and Maryna’s safe return.

  The boys stayed a few more days while Gwynneth resupplied them generously. Both she and Braeden wrote letters of introduction to Gauvain and Zofya, promising them they’d get an audience with both.

  Before leaving, Anton had a long talk with Braeden over a flagon of ale. He’d thought he wouldn’t want to talk about it anymore, but the whole story about Susanna and the baby came pouring out. After he’d told it all Anton realized it might remind Braeden of the family he’d lost.

  Perhaps it had, but Braeden only seemed upset on Anton’s behalf. “That’s a lot for someone your age to go through,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s hard now, but it’ll get better. Hopefully you already are less sad than before.”

  “I’m a little better,” Anton said, “but I will make sure to never fall in love again. I’ve learned my lesson.” He was very serious about that, so couldn’t understand why Braeden laughed.

  Lennart

  By the time Lennart rode out from Richenbruck, he was certain he outnumbered Janos Rykter and Teodora by several thousand. But Rykter was too smart to allow an open confrontation, so before long, Lennart and Lofbrok had small units spread over the countryside for leagues around, looking for the enemy.

  Before sending everyone out, Lennart made a proclamation. “I’ll give ten thousand Kroner to anyone who brings me Teodora’s head. She ought to be easy to find, since word is, she looks like an old lady now. So I want to see white hair on any severed heads.”

  Laughter went up, but Lennart saw the excited glances his troops exchanged. He’d considered offering a reward for taking Teodora alive, but didn’t see the point. Having her as a captive might be useful, but could lead to complications, all of which would be solved if she were dead. Now he had Elektra on his side, there wasn’t much point in keeping her mother around.

  The landscape was grim and frozen here in the foothills of the Galwend mountains. Trees were sparse, aside from a few clumps of forest, and dense brush covered much of the land.

  This created a good hiding place for small units to attack anyone on a road, as Lennart soon learned. He’d been on the offensive only a few days and had already lost two squadrons of cavalry.

  “This can’t go on,” Lennart said to Lofbrok after they’d made camp one night. The weather was so inhospitable, he considered staying in a village, but worried about being able to defend it. At least he could set up his camp in a spot of his choosing.

  “I agree,” Lofbrok said, his broad face troubled. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

  “They know the countryside, and we don’t. Let’s go out in larger groups and be ready for attacks. We’ve been surprised these last few times. Let’s also hire local scouts and pay them well. We’ll offer solid coin to any civilians with information as to Rykter’s or Teodora’s whereabouts.”

  “That might work.” Lofbrok brightened. “One thing we learned was that Rykter has been making big promises to the locals, but hasn’t backed them up with money.”

  “That can go bad quickly.”

  “It already has. The Moraltans have been here just a few weeks and folk are already complaining about them the way they complained about us a few weeks before that.”

  “Good. Let’s find out what a little goodwill in the form of silver can buy us.”

  As it turned out, quite a lot. Information poured in and some of it was useful. Acting o
n a tip, Lennart took a cavalry company into the wilderness and surprised a Moraltan unit setting up camp. It was getting dark, and pickets weren’t yet in position.

  Lennart realized there was no time to waste, and shouted, “Charge!” surprising his own troops nearly as much as the enemy. “I want a prisoner,” he added, before things got out of hand.

  The enemy scrambled and put up a decent defense, but they were caught flat-footed, no question about that. Lennart waded in with his sword and sent a number on the run, though he caught a few unfortunates with his blade. In a lucky stroke, for him at least, he sliced one young man across the shoulder, felling, but not killing him.

  He shouted for someone to grab the prisoner then helped secure the rest of the camp. They’d killed the commander, but his belongings were still intact, and in another stroke of luck, contained letters from Rykter, and unsent replies.

  Lennart read those on horseback while a medical officer bandaged up the prisoner and fortified him with liquor.

  “It says here that Teodora’s gone to Arcius.” Lennart looked up from the letter. The light was fading fast, and he’d need a lamp to read the rest. “Is that true, and if it is, why is she going?”

  “It’s true,” the prisoner said, eager to cooperate. “With the locals so restive, more coin was needed to keep them quiet, so the empress aimed to get some from Princess Alarys.”

  “Interesting. So Teodora has had to go begging.” Lennart turned back to the prisoner. “Didn’t she come supplied with coin to pay her troops?”

  The man looked surprised. “We haven’t been paid in the two months we’ve worked for her. Nothing too unusual in that, but you’d think an empress wouldn’t be short on funds.”

  “You’d be amazed.” Lennart chuckled. “Though we pay monthly in the Estenorian army.” He felt proud of that, even though he relied on King Gauvain for some of it.

  And he noticed this soldier’s somewhat poorly state, with an old cloak, a threadbare doublet and rags holding his boots together. Even if everything else was short, Estenorian soldiers always had warm clothes and sturdy, water-proof boots. Lennart wondered if he might have a big advantage here, if he could pull it off before Teodora returned from her mission.

  Teodora

  “I’ll want all of this in writing,” Mattila said, “signed by you. Aside from our personal differences, I’ll be taking an enormous risk. Lennart might be demoralized by what’s happened to Kendryk, but he’s still the biggest threat the empire has seen since its foundation.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” Teodora was finding it hard to affect indifference when she was jumping with glee inside. “He’s a threat, but has yet to face you in battle. As I recall, you weren’t too worried about him a few years ago.”

  “That was before he destroyed Ensden and took the Obenstein without breaking a sweat.” Mattila shrugged. “I’ll admit it, he’ll be a challenge even for me. His methods are unorthodox but effective, his troops are well-trained, and he doesn’t lack for courage. At this point I won’t guarantee a speedy victory against him, which means fighting him will cost me a great deal.”

  “And you’ll be compensated,” Teodora said. “How would you like to add Ummarvik, northern Terragand and Helvundala to your kingdom?”

  “That’s a start.” There was no mistaking the greed in Mattila’s eyes. “But promises of territory sure to be damaged by a long war won’t be enough. I’ll want money.”

  Teodora kept her face impassive, even as she cursed the woman. Money was the one thing she didn’t have, but no one here needed to know that.

  “How would you like a percentage of tax revenue from conquered areas? We could start with whatever you gain in Tirilis.”

  “And Lantura. I’ll want whatever I can get out of that kingdom next.”

  Beside Teodora, Princess Alarys made a small noise of protest. She stood to gain a large chunk of Lantura if all went as planned.

  Teodora turned to her. “Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll work out exactly how much of Lantura will be yours at the end. Though in exchange for helping you get it, I’m sure you’ll want to give the general the revenue she needs. Don’t you?” Teodora added, when she could see the princess was still trying to work out what she meant.

  “So, I’ll get the land later, but the general will take the tax money now?” she asked.

  “Something like that. I’m sure we can work out the details in the next few days.” Teodora offered an encouraging smile, which seemed to placate the princess.

  “Let’s get started right away,” Mattila said. “I’ve spread most of my army across Tirilis and Lantura in winter quarters. As long as we can put together enough supplies, I don’t see why we can’t launch a winter campaign.

  “I’ve built up the numbers of Dura’s Cuirassiers and they’ll be perfect for quick attacks and ambushes on larger forces. Franca Dura is eager to avenge her defeat at Kaltental. The sooner we can mobilize the lot of them, the better.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Teodora finished the rest of her drink, now pleasantly relaxed. With Mattila on her side, Lennart’s days were numbered. If he was on his way to Terragand, perhaps he’d better just keep going north, until he’d left all of Kronland behind.

  Getting through all of the paperwork without the aid of Count Solteszy was a trial, and negotiating without Livilla’s steadying hand was even harder, but when all was said and done, Teodora thought she’d made a reasonable deal.

  Mattila stood to gain a great deal of territory, and if things went in her favor, she’d be nearly as powerful as Teodora, dominating the northern third of Kronland.

  But it would take time to conquer all of those kingdoms, and there was always the possibility of Mattila dying in battle. It seemed she’d already thought of that because she said, “If something happens to me, I want Jozef to have all of this.”

  “Certainly.” Teodora didn’t blink. Jozef Mattila would be lucky to hang on to any of it once his formidable mother was gone.

  “How did you know I was here?” Mattila asked, not looking up as she signed several more documents.

  “I didn’t,” Teodora admitted. “I’d heard you’d gone back to Brandana, but thought I’d start with Princess Alarys, since I was in the neighborhood. Once I had her on my side, I hoped I’d find a way to approach you.”

  “It’s a good thing Jozef got away.” Mattila raised her head, laying down the quill. “If you still had him, or if anything had happened to him, I would have killed you, wandering around out here by yourself. So, you should thank Prince Aksel for saving your skin.”

  Teodora couldn’t think of what to say to that, so just kept staring at Mattila, her head held high. “Are we done here?” she asked, her voice higher-pitched than she would have liked.

  “Almost.” Mattila picked up the quill again, tapping it on a blank sheet of paper. “I want one more thing. Or rather, Jozef does. He’s already told you what it is.”

  “Aksel Roussay gets out of the Arnfels.” Teodora sighed. “Very well, though there’s no saying how much trouble he’ll cause me.”

  “He won’t cause you any further trouble,” Mattila said. “Because you’ll release him into my custody.”

  “But, I have a treaty—”

  “Which you’ve already broken, multiple times and multiple ways. Oh, I know what you got up to in Norovaea, for all the good it did you.”

  Teodora desperately wondered what she knew, but refused to ask. “I can’t turn Prince Aksel over to you.”

  “Then we have no deal.” Mattila pushed away from the table.

  “You would give up your chance for a kingdom because your son wants his little friend freed?” Teodora was determined to call her bluff. She’d already given up so much.

  “I’ll do a great deal for my son,” Mattila said. “As you well know. Don’t be ridiculous. Giving up Aksel Roussay costs you nothing, and you’ll be rid of a troublesome hostage. You ought to thank me.”

  Teodora thought
of Norovaea, of Elektra as its queen, and realized it wouldn’t happen, at least not this way. And it would be good to be rid of Aksel.

  “All right,” she said, “but I’m warning you, he likes to brew dangerous potions. Don’t let him accidentally blow up your precious boy.”

  Braeden

  Gwynneth stayed at the palace for over a month, putting affairs in order. Braeden did not want her to go. With Princess Viviane in prison, Gwynneth was the only person in the kingdom who knew how to run one.

  She introduced Braeden to Princess Viviane’s advisers, stuffy scholar-types, the lot of them. Braeden saw with one look they didn’t trust him, and he was happy to return the favor.

  His new title didn’t seem to make any difference.

  “It was a bit tricky,” Gwynneth had said, “and I had to carve off some of the Duke of Emberg’s lands, though he won’t mind, since he’s dead.”

  “Doesn’t he have heirs?”

  Gwynneth wrinkled her nose. “He does. I nearly forgot. I threw his son in the dungeon right before the first battle at Birkenfels so I could keep his father honest.”

  “You are one of the most frightening people I’ve ever met,” Braeden said. “And I’ve met a few.”

  “Thank you.” Gwynneth tossed her head. “It’s how I get things done. At any rate, as Princess Regent of Terragand, I’m entitled to give estates and titles. So I’m giving you both. From now on, you’re the Count of Winsebach, and own a rather lovely Terragand estate. You’ll be happy to know it’s already famous for its wine.”

  “How nice, and thank you,” Braeden said. “I hope I live to enjoy it. This lot of Princess Viviane’s is likely to stab me in the back, count or not.” Though he had to admit, a nice estate would make a great retirement spot, if he made it that long.

  “They will not,” Gwynneth said, her voice firm. “I’ve ordered them to behave, or face my wrath.”

  “That might work. I’ve seen your wrath.” He remembered Daciana Tomescu and barely held back a shudder. Then he thought of Princess Viviane, still in the Maxima’s dungeon. And Countess Biaram, shipped off to Maladena, “though I doubt she’ll survive the journey,” Gwynneth had said, a slightly mad gleam in her eye.