“What do you want from me when we see him?” She might as well get to the point.
“Tell him what you want, and that we’ll help you get it. He must want it too, after what happened to him.”
Gwynneth hoped Braeden would see things her way, but wanted to prepare for disappointment. “I can’t picture him supporting you.”
“Why can’t we work together?” Florian’s voice rang clear in the chilly air. “Why can’t we all take care of the princess, then resolve our differences?”
“You make it sound so easy.” Gwynneth sighed. “I’m certain I have more political experience than you do, and I can tell you, things are never as simple as they appear. It’s far too easy to set off a chain reaction with unintended consequences.”
“Like rescuing Edric Maximus?”
“Just like that. It seemed like a perfect way to assert Kronland’s independence from the empire at a time that Teodora seemed weak. But she wasn’t as weak as we thought. Things have a way of changing quickly.”
The cabin was a long way off and it was nearly mid-morning before they arrived. Gwynneth didn’t see Braeden himself, but Kazmir stood in front, along with a few familiar-looking guards in a somewhat friendly standoff with armed peasants.
Florian drew the sledge up to the front door, helped Gwynneth out, and turned to the others. “We’re just here to talk, and we’re likely to have more in common than not. So I trust there will be no trouble?”
“Please,” Gwynneth added, smiling at everyone. She was frozen through, and dying to see Braeden.
He stood in front of the fireplace, but had turned at the sound of the door. “Your Grace,” he crossed the little room in a few steps and took Gwynneth’s frozen hands in his. “You’re all right.”
“I am.” Gwynneth smiled and squeezed his hands. Though rough, they were large and warm. She wished she could leave with him right now. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I.” Braeden’s eyes were warm until they turned on Florian. “Who are you?”
“Call me Florian. Why don’t we sit, and let the princess thaw out?”
Gwynneth wondered that Florian wasn’t as frozen as she was, but many things that bothered normal people never seemed to trouble him. She took the chair closest to the fire and while she put her hands to it, said, “I have a proposal for you, Count Terris. I hope you’ll agree to it.”
Teodora
The first thing Teodora noticed about her daughter was that she looked like a woman now. Though she still got that look on her face, just like a frightened rabbit. Maybe that would never change. It was impossible to give some people a backbone. That one of these listless sorts should be Teodora’s heir was galling, but unlikely to last much longer.
“Mother!” Elektra gasped, all color draining from her face. Beside her, a small but clever-looking military sort reached under his cloak. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to set things right,” Teodora said with a smile, sensing Rykter at her side, making a move of his own. “I refuse to allow one of my loyal kingdoms to fall into the hands of a traitor.” She couldn’t stop smiling, watching Elektra’s eyes widen even further.
“I-I,” the girl stammered, but couldn’t get out more than that.
The little man stepped in front of Elektra. “Her Grace rules this kingdom. Please leave before I force you to.”
Teodora laughed. “I’m afraid it’s gone too far for that. I’ve brought an army of some size and your troops didn’t even fire one shot in resistance before laying down their arms. If you’re smart you’ll do the same.”
It happened fast, but Rykter—standing at Teodora’s elbow—was faster.
The little man drew a pistol from under his cloak with lightning speed, but as he fired, a blast from Rykter’s own gun felled him. The other shot went harmlessly into the air.
Elektra screamed and launched herself at Teodora. She might have been smaller, but she was angry, and Teodora was on the wobbly side.
“I’ll kill you,” Elektra shrieked. “I hate you!” She managed a swift slap to Teodora’s face before Rykter and another soldier pulled her off.
Teodora looked at her daughter, held between two strong men, breathing hard, her eyes blazing. Then she smiled.
“I’m afraid if anyone does the killing around here, it will be me.” Teodora looked past Elektra at the man lying on the ground.
At that, Elektra stopped struggling. “Please let me help Major Silberg at least.”
Teodora shook her head. The small man’s body had already stopped twitching. “Too late. So sorry. Though really, he was trying to kill me.”
“I wish he’d succeeded.” Elektra was trembling, but seemed calmer now.
“Oh my. We have a great deal to talk about,” Teodora said, then turned to her escort. “Let’s return to the palace. It’s much to cold to stand around out here while I tell the Archduchess how things will be.”
She turned on her heel, knowing Rykter would carry Elektra back if he had to. But they stayed right behind her, and once Teodora had established herself in Princess Viviane’s study, the site of her most audacious deed, he pushed Elektra into a chair across from her mother none too gently.
“Best to stay put, Your Grace,” he said. “One move toward your mother and I won’t hesitate to shoot you in the knee.”
Elektra stared at him, silent, then turned back to Teodora. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Why, I heard things were in disarray. Not only that, there were strange rumors. The one that disturbed me most was that you’d somehow allied yourself with Princess Gwynneth and assisted in the escape of Braeden Terris. Of course I can’t believe such a tale. I know you’d never go over to the enemy.”
Teodora shook her head, as if disbelieving, but it was easy enough from the look on Elektra’s face to see it was true.
“H-how did you get past King Lennart?” Elektra asked, her voice shaking. “I thought he was already over the mountains.”
“I’m afraid he dawdled too long, and didn’t make it over the pass before winter.”
“So where is he?” Elektra looked truly confused.
“Who knows? Likely Terragand, but it doesn’t matter, since Brynhild Mattila is working for me now, and will get rid of him shortly.”
“Oh,” Elektra said, her voice small.
Teodora looked over at Rykter, standing near Elektra’s chair. “Will you leave us?”
“I’m not sure it’s safe, Your Highness,” Rykter protested.
“Oh, it is.” Teodora pulled a small dagger from her belt and laid it on the table in front of her. “I’m sure I can handle her as long as I have a weapon. Now please go.”
Rykter could be unpleasantly stubborn. Between him and Sybila, Teodora sometimes felt she spent most of her day putting her foot down about one thing or another.
He inclined his head displeased, but left the room.
“There.” Teodora smiled again. “Much cozier now, just the two of us. Why don’t you tell me everything? Don’t you agree it’s better I hear it from you?”
“It should be obvious,” Elektra said, her chin raised. “I’ve changed sides. I’m Lennart’s ally, and when he defeats you, he’ll make me empress.”
Teodora should have known Lennart would appeal to Elektra’s ambition. It was her only good trait. Too bad the girl couldn’t back it up.
“You always were terribly weak-willed.” Teodora maintained a soothing, motherly tone. “But I can be forgiving. You’re even less trustworthy than I’d thought, but you’re in an excellent position to prove yourself now.”
“What if I don’t want to prove myself to you?”
So she wanted to play it defiant. Teodora tilted her head and looked sad. “Then I’m afraid you’ll meet with an accident—likely tonight—and your sister Zofya will become my heir.”
Braeden
Braeden was happy to see Gwynneth so well, and surprised at how much better she looked since the last
time he’d seen her. The cold might have put the roses back in her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled more brightly and her chin had its characteristic determined jut. He knew her well enough to expect she’d hatched some kind of plot. So he smiled, shook his head, then asked. “What did you have in mind?”
“I want to kill Princess Viviane, and Florian has agreed to help me do it.”
That wasn’t too unsurprising, but Braeden didn’t relish sorting out either the mission or the problems it was bound to create.
“That’s a nice idea.” He turned toward Florian and gave him a hard looking-over. Unlike most people Braeden met, this Florian was a tricky one to pin down. Braeden’s first instinct had been to dislike him, simply for capturing Gwynneth and for leading a violent revolt.
But upon looking at him further, Braeden decided he might have liked the man if he hadn’t already had those things against him. There was something calm and competent about him, and Gwynneth clearly held him in regard. Braeden sighed, then said, “And I suppose you have a plan for managing this.”
Gwynneth smiled. “We do, though it can all be done much more easily with your cooperation.”
Braeden stared at her. “You’ve got to understand, Your Grace, especially after the position you’ve put me in. I can’t have anything to do with a peasant revolt unless I want the rest of the country to rise up against me. And I doubt you want that.”
“Of course I don’t want that,” Gwynneth said, a hint of impatience in her voice. “But we’ve thought of a way you can help without being implicated.”
“I’ll bet.” Braeden shook his head, preparing himself to be convinced, though he resolved to put up a good fight.
There was a pause as a young woman with short blond hair and wearing the rough clothes of a farmer brought round mugs of steaming tea. Even though Braeden had mostly thawed out, he welcomed a warm drink. The steam rose, warming the tip of his nose, which had somehow refused to yield to the warmth of the fire.
Florian spoke for the first time since his greeting. “Princess Gwynneth told me everything about what happened to you when Prince Kendryk was murdered.” His voice was soft, but also firm. “What Princess Viviane did to you was nearly as bad, and might have ended up worse if you hadn’t had the help of friends.”
“True,” Braeden said. “And make no mistake, I’d love to see that witch dead. It’s pulling it off that’s the problem. The only way I can hold things together right now is because the aristocracy holds Antonia Maxima in high esteem, and she’s guaranteed Princess Viviane’s safety in the temple prison. If I do anything to remove her from there, I doubt that’ll go over well.”
“You don’t need to remove her,” Florian said. “You just don’t have to stand in our way. If we could persuade you to provide a smaller city guard at an opportune time, we’d be very grateful.”
“I don’t object to that,” Braeden said. “But how will you get around the Maxima and her guards?”
“Leave the Maxima to me,” Florian said with a boyish grin. “She’s an old friend.”
“She was his religious tutor when he was a boy.” Gwynneth put in.
“Trained for the temple did you?” Braeden couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d finally put his finger on Florian’s defining quality, a genial authority, much like Edric’s. He could picture this man in a Maximus’s robes, and wondered what had taken him off that path.
“Not quite.” Florian pulled a wry smile. “But my mother insisted I study at the temple as part of a well-rounded education. Back then, Antonia Maxima was a priestess, and a woman of great strength and reason. I was her favorite pupil.”
“When did you last see her?” Braeden wondered if the Maxima would recognize her former student, since he hadn’t been a boy in some time.
“Two, maybe three months?” Florian answered, much to Braeden’s surprise. “Before winter set in, and before the uprising gained steam.”
Braeden had to know. “Were you paying a social call?”
“Not entirely.” Florian’s eyes bore an amused glint. “I’d gone to the city after Princess Viviane’s overthrow, mostly out of curiosity, but once I saw what had happened I realized it was the right time for us to air our grievances.”
“Funny way you did that,” Braeden grumbled. “You might have just come to see me, or Princess Gwynneth here before she left.”
“It wasn’t quite that simple. The peasants had been restive for a long time, and I knew a sedate delegation to the new ruler wouldn’t satisfy them. They had to let off steam.”
“By murdering people?” Braeden couldn’t help but feel Florian was being too casual about that bit.
“Only those who deserved it.” Florian looked straight at him unapologetically.
“Huh,” Braeden said. “How can you be the judge of that?”
“That’s why I needed the Maxima.” Florian wasn’t the least bit abashed. “I needed her blessing, and the assurance the gods would guide us to justice.”
“I’ve met Antonia Maxima,” Braeden said, “and I can’t believe she’d give you the go-ahead, not to mention a blessing.”
“She’s surprisingly radical.” Florian grinned. “Though she hides it well. Ever since she’d been a priestess, she was most active in supporting the commonfolk, which is why my father sent her packing before my studies were completed.”
“Who’s your father?” He must be someone important to unseat a priestess.
“Count Herbst. You might have heard of him.”
It took a moment for Braeden to recover from that surprise. “Better than that. I know him. Spent the night with him and your mother a few weeks ago.”
“Ah. How is my mother? I won’t ask about my father, since he never changes.”
Many things suddenly became clear to Braeden. “Your mother is frightened, I’m afraid, especially at any talk about the revolt. I understand now why she is. It must be awful for her, knowing you’re out there doing something crazy.”
“It is.” Florian’s eyes were grave. “And even worse, she’s been helping me as much as she can. I don’t want to think what’ll happen if my father finds out.”
“We must make sure he doesn’t,” Braeden said, thinking of the unpleasant count. “Whatever happens next, she has to stop helping you, or being in touch in any way. If you insist on carrying out this mission against Princess Viviane, she must not be implicated.”
Elektra
Elektra stared at her mother. She’d known how awful she was all her life, but couldn’t quite trust what she’d just heard. “Are you saying you’ll kill me if I don’t cooperate with you?” she whispered.
“Well, I probably won’t do it myself.” Teodora twirled the dagger around on the table. “My own flesh and blood ... that’s a bit much even for me. But I’m sure Colonel Rykter will be happy to do the deed.”
Elektra’s breath came fast and shallow now. She’d hate to pass out in front of her mother at a moment like this. She’d made a mess of everything, but she’d try to be brave at the end, which she now understood was coming soon.
“Oh, calm down.” Teodora offered a soothing smile appropriate for a child who’d skinned her knee. Not that Teodora had ever been present for an event of that sort during Elektra’s childhood. “I’m sure it won’t be too terrible. I’ll tell him to do it fast, and as painlessly as possible. In fact, because you’re my daughter, you can tell me how you’d like it done, if you have a preference.”
“I don’t.” Elektra shook her head. “You’re a monster and every bit of the responsibility for this will be yours.” She stood, doing her best to look dignified. “I know the truth about Prince Kendryk too, and the gods will judge you for all of this. Not just those you’ve murdered with your own hands, but those you’ve ordered your toadies to kill. The gods see all of it.”
She let her eyes linger on her mother’s decrepit appearance. “I’m amazed I recognized you at all. If I hadn’t known Grandmother was dead for ten years, I would have thought you were
she.”
Elektra took a step toward the desk, watching Teodora’s hand tighten on the dagger. Perhaps she should force her mother to do it herself, though she was still too frightened. “The gods have punished you already. I’m sure the only reason you’re alive is because of some dark art, like what brought Daciana Tomescu back from the dead, at least the first time.”
That got a reaction. Teodora dropped the dagger with a clatter, her eyes widening. “What do you know about Daciana? Where is she?”
“Dead.” Saying that made Elektra smile a little, even under these circumstances. “But this time it’s for good. I’m sure even Livilla can’t bring her back once her head’s been removed from her body. Oh, and Princess Gwynneth herself drove a stake through her heart. After it was also removed from her body,” Elektra added, enjoying the look of horror on her mother’s face. Gwynneth had told her the bloody tale one evening before departing for Terragand. Perhaps she wanted Elektra to be happier she was leaving.
“I don’t believe it,” Teodora said through clenched teeth.
Elektra noticed her hand shaking, but as soon as Teodora realized it, she snatched her hand away and put it under the table.
“Braeden Terris was there too,” Elektra said, nearly enjoying herself now. It was so seldom she could catch her mother flat-footed. “In fact, it was he who finally killed her. Blew her brains out, I heard.” That part had come from Devyn, who’d recounted the whole tale with an air of breathless hero-worship.
“Shut up!” Teodora screamed, her fist coming down on the table.
“All right,” Elektra said mildly. “Just thought you should know. Perhaps it’s best if I go now.” She inched toward the door, which had come open when Teodora shouted.
The big henchman called Rykter stood in the doorway, but Elektra marched right up to him. She wasn’t afraid anymore. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll go to my room now. You can come kill me later,” she threw over her shoulder, with the last bit of bravado she had in her.
Elektra kept a measured pace until she’d turned the corner, then ran down the corridor as fast as she could. She might yet escape if she could only reach the temple, where she was certain Antonia Maxima would help her.
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 47
