“Who is Father Marcus?”
“He’s a young Olvisyan noble. He’s had an excellent scientific education, has a pleasant manner, and I’m sure he and the prince will get on well. I’ve told Marcus to go slowly and without pressure. Once they’ve become friends, it’ll be easier for him to influence Aksel.”
“Clever. But that might take months.”
Livilla shrugged. “True. But imagine Arryk’s devastation when he learns his little brother has been converted by none other than a priest of the League of Aeternos. It ought to upset Princess Gwynneth even more.”
Teodora sat back down. “That alone might be worth it.” If only she could find something to upset Kendryk just as much. “What do I do with Elektra in the meantime?”
“Let her join Ensden in Terragand. You received similar experience at that age, and it did you good.”
“I don’t want her to leave so soon. She’s been away for years, and now she wants to go again. You’d think she didn’t care for her family at all.”
Livilla smiled. “That’s not true. But like you at that age, she has the desire for adventure, and to distinguish herself on her own.”
That was exactly what Teodora didn’t want, but preferred not to tell Livilla. “I’d rather keep her here. I can give her a position in the guards if she insists on military service, but I want her married the moment Aksel has converted.”
Livilla inclined her head, and Teodora could tell she didn’t agree. Teodora wondered if Livilla knew the real story of Elektra’s Kronland adventure, and if she did, why she hadn’t mentioned it so far. It really would be nice to have just one trustworthy person in her life.
Kendryk
Kendryk hated leaving Braeden and Karil behind while he advanced in relative safety. It was an uncomfortable reminder of his escape from the Arnfels. He’d stood anxiously on the ship’s deck at Capo, waiting for them to return, while the captain made noises about sailing without them, in spite of Kendryk’s orders to the contrary. And now, even on the other side of the gap, he wanted to be there when they appeared again.
Trystan had other ideas. “I want you to ride for Helvundala,” he said. “Take Edric Maximus, your Galladian guard, and another hundred of mine. The way ought to be safe, but you never know. I’ll stay here, and make sure the enemy doesn’t break through.”
Kendryk bit his tongue. He wanted to protest, but understood the importance of meeting Lennart and returning as quickly as possible.
“You seem troubled,” Edric said, as they turned to ride east.
“I’m worried about my friends.”
“Of course. But the situation seems to be well in hand. Commander Terris got you out of the Arnfels alive. To my knowledge, no one’s ever accomplished that. This seems a far easier task.”
“It’s more straightforward. But I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to people putting themselves in harm’s way for my sake. I don’t deserve it.” Kendryk stared hard at the road ahead, not wanting to meet his friend’s eyes.
“Perhaps none of us deserve all the good we receive, or the bad either. That’s not up to us, however. This is part of the gods’ plan, and we only see a bit of our small part in it.”
Kendryk shook his head. “None of this makes any sense. I don’t understand why things looked so promising before that first battle, and why they went bad so quickly. I still consider my escape a miracle, but fail to understand its purpose even now. Everything—good and bad—went on well enough without me.”
“I’ll keep saying this until you believe it.” Edric’s voice was firm. “You have been chosen for an important work, and the gods will guide your steps until you accomplish it. Your path has been difficult, but that will make your success all the more rewarding.”
Kendryk had to smile, secretly relieved his friend’s usual optimism had returned, even if he didn’t share in it.
They rode in companionable silence for a while. They were still far from the border with Helvundala, but Kendryk hoped Lennart was on his way. He didn’t want to leave Trystan and the rest unsupported any longer than he had to.
Only a few hours later, a scout came with a report. “There’s a large force about three leagues ahead. It just turned our way at the crossroads.”
Hope leapt up inside Kendryk. “Is it Lennart?” He’d made sure all of his scouts could recognize Estenor’s standard.
The scout shook his head. “No, only Helvundala’s colors. It must be Falk.”
Kendryk had to laugh. “So he persuaded my cousin to come. Let’s go meet him.” He was disappointed that he wouldn’t meet Lennart just yet, but supposed he had other battles to attend to. He also didn’t look forward to seeing his cousin, though he was pleased he’d finally come through.
But when he spotted an army up ahead, Estenor’s banner flew beside the lead horsemen. The scout must have been confused, although as they came closer, Kendryk noticed a great number of the Falk standard as well. His captain of the guard insisted on riding ahead to make sure it was safe, and returned to Kendryk with the head of the force.
“As the ruler of this land, you must receive him; not the other way around,” Captain Dorais said with a sniff. The captain was a snob, and appalled by the lack of protocol he’d seen in Kronland so far.
Kendryk realized he looked rough after several months on the road, but he hoped Lennart—if it was him—would understand. So he drew his horse to a halt, and did his best to look dignified as a small group of men came near.
There was no question the man riding at the head of the group stood out. Even on horseback, his height and bulk were obvious. Kendryk had seen few men approach Braeden for size, but this one came close. Though the royal banner of Estenor flew right behind him, Lennart was not dressed like a king. He wore a plain doublet of blue wool over black breeches, and tall riding boots. He appeared to wear no armor at all, and a breeze ruffled unruly brown hair, uncovered as well. Kendryk suddenly didn’t feel so bad about his own plain appearance, and was rather glad he looked rough and battle-weary.
Once he reached Kendryk, Lennart dismounted and gave a brief bow. “It’s good to meet you at last, Your Grace.”
Kendryk hurried to dismount, bowing as well. There were those who thought one should never bow to a fellow head of state, but Kendryk didn’t see the harm, especially as Lennart had gone first.
Lennart grinned at him, bright hazel eyes twinkling. Kendryk would have felt uncomfortable at being looked over in such a familiar fashion, except Lennart appeared entirely friendly and good-natured.
“Shall we sit over here and talk?” Kendryk asked. Someone had already hurried to set up a table and camp chairs, while someone else brought ale. “Where’s my cousin? I suppose we ought to include him.”
Lennart laughed. “Your cousin isn’t here.”
“But this looks like his army.”
“It was his army. But now, it’s your Aunt Rheda’s army. Much has changed in Helvundala in the past week. Let me tell you about it over a tankard of ale.”
Anton
“We’re getting close to the coastline now,” the sergeant told Anton on a bright June day while marching northward. “And when we do, we’ll deploy so we push Tora Isenberg onto the beach. She’ll have to fight or flee.”
“Where would she go?” Anton asked.
“The Estenorian fleet is standing just off the coast, so they’ll send boats if she needs them.”
“She’ll go back to Estenor?”
The sergeant shrugged. “I doubt it. The ships might take her across that little sound to the west, into Ummarvik.”
“How will we chase her there?”
“We won’t. But if you lot do your job, there won’t be much left to chase. General Ensden’s made sure she’ll be seriously outnumbered.”
Anton just hoped the fight would be long enough for him to see action. He worried about his regiment being held in reserve, and missing out on everything.
By the time they came upon Isenberg, the ocean
was in sight. Anton hadn’t been this close to the water since he and the count stole the ships, though he recognized the smell of the salty air.
“I’d like to take you down to the beach,” Anton said to Susanna after she told him she’d never seen the ocean.
“Isn’t the enemy there?”
“They’re close at least. Maybe after the battle.”
“I’m sure the beach will be lovely, covered with corpses.” Susanna was making an effort not to seem worried about him, but Anton knew she was anyway. Since they’d made camp and the orders had come down for getting ready for battle, she hadn’t been the same.
“Might be we won’t fight on the beach,” Anton said, though he thought that might be interesting.
“I wish you wouldn’t fight anywhere,” Susanna said, “but I know you have to.”
“It’s my job,” Anton said. “I wish you wouldn’t worry. I’ve had a lot of experience, and my regiment is really well-trained. We’ve drilled so long, I can do all of those maneuvers in my sleep.”
“I think you do, the way you sometimes thrash around at night.” Susanna gave a half-smile.
“That’s something else,” Anton said shortly. “Bad dreams.” Now that his life had become calmer, only his sleep was haunted. Things he hadn’t thought about in years returned to him as nightmares. The burning farm in Moralta, being held on the ground, unable to help, while his mother screamed and screamed. When he closed his eyes, the bridge at Lerania crashed over him night after night, sweeping him and Skandar down a river, until a cannonball took the count and Cid from right in front of him. Maybe it was a good thing, to finally be on the winning side, so bad things could stop happening.
“I worry about you, too,” he said to Susanna, the morning they were to go into battle. She was helping him strap on his armor. Since he had money now, he’d bought a sturdy cuirass, a fine crested helmet, and a brace of pistols.
She raised her eyebrows. “Whatever for? I’ll be fine back here in camp. I don’t think there’s any chance of the Estenorians breaking through.”
“They won’t if I have anything to do with it.” Anton felt better with all of his gear on, even though it was heavy. He hoped they wouldn’t have to walk too far. “But if the worst happens, head straight east until you get to Anglestein castle, and ask to be taken to the countess. She’s Count Orland’s widow, and I’m sure she’ll remember me and help you. She’s very nice.”
Susanna shook her head. “I doubt any countess would want to see me.”
“Tell her you’re Anton Kronek’s wife—that’s the name I used back then—and I’ll find you as soon as I can. Please Susanna, promise me you’ll do this.”
“All right,” she said, putting her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “If the worst happens, I’ll look for that countess, if you insist.”
“Good.” Anton smiled down at her. “That makes me feel better.”
The air around Anton crackled with excitement as his regiment marched toward the shore. He couldn’t see anything, with rank on rank of pike all around him, but it was fun to be part of something so big. He wished they weren’t in the reserve, and worried they’d never see action before it was all over.
“It’s not so bad in the reserve,” Stasny said, “and you’re more likely to live to fight another day. There’ll be plenty more battles before this war is over. My first engagement, I worried about that too, but that was five years ago, and I’ve been in more battles than I can count since then.”
Anton grimaced, but said nothing. He hated it when Stasny made it sound like he was more experienced than Anton, which he really wasn’t. Though it was true he’d done a lot more infantry fighting.
“You’ll be sorry you’re carrying those pistols,” Stasny went on. “Heavy as they are, you’ll drop them on the ground after we’ve marched a league or two.”
“Not a chance,” Anton said. “I’m better with pistols than anything, so I won’t do without them.” It was true they were heavy, but he didn’t like being unprotected if his square broke. And he didn’t plan on running either, no matter what happened.
They didn’t march too much longer before coming to a halt. It was late morning, and the sun had broken through a fog as it rose in the sky. Anton’s helmet became very hot, and he pulled it off, at least until they moved again. He hated not knowing what was going on. At first, he’d heard only the distant rumble of the ocean, but then the crackle of musket fire came over that. The front lines must be engaging. Anton shifted onto his other foot, and gripped his pike.
Teodora
“Shall we go for a ride together?” Teodora asked Elektra after sending for her. “I never have time to enjoy the spring weather otherwise.” She also hoped getting Elektra out of the palace and into the fresh air would put her in a better mood.
“If you like.” Elektra’s tone was flat. After several weeks in Atlona, she no longer seemed as confident as she had at her arrival. Perhaps that was a good thing.
Teodora waited until they had ridden out into the shady paths of the forest outside the city’s eastern gate. “Did you know Arian Orland launched his attack from this very spot?” she asked.
“Hm,” Elektra said, apparently uninterested.
Teodora shrugged. It wasn’t as though she enjoyed revisiting that awful day, but anything that reminded her of Arian Orland, and that he was now dead, made her happy.
Teodora pulled ahead, just out of earshot of the guards, and Elektra followed. “I’ve been wanting to have a chat,” she said.
“All right,” Elektra said, her voice dull.
“I’ve decided you’re to marry Aksel Roussay.”
Elektra raised her eyebrows and was silent. She didn’t seem nearly as shocked as Teodora had expected her to be. Perhaps she’d caught wind of a rumor.
“Don’t you like him?”
“I do.” Elektra turned toward her. “But I don’t want to marry him.”
“Why ever not? He’s attractive, intelligent, and seems to like you. He might also become King of Norovaea before long.”
“Oh gods.” Elektra pulled her horse to an abrupt halt. “Is that what you want? To send me to Norovaea where I’ll be out of your way forever?”
“Goodness, no. I want you to be Queen of Norovaea. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“I don’t see how Aksel can be a king anytime soon, and no, I don’t want to be a queen.”
Teodora waved at the guards to stop before they came closer. “Why not?”
“I want to be empress someday. And it would be terrible to have a husband I like but never see, because he’s in some faraway country.”
Teodora snorted. “You won’t be empress for a long time.” Even as she said it, a chill crept through her bones. Perhaps she was right to suspect Elektra of having unnatural ambition.
“I realize that.” Now there was more force in Elektra’s voice. “But in the meantime, I want a military career, not to be shunted off to Norovaea. And if I marry Aksel, what will I do instead? If something happens to King Arryk, his sister and her children are next in line, not Aksel. It seems unlikely he’ll ever be king.”
“I’m sure I could arrange it,” Teodora said with a smirk.
Elektra shook her head, color spreading across her face. “I don’t want you to arrange it, and neither does Aksel. He doesn’t want to be king. You should stay out of Norovaean politics anyway.”
“Oh, is that what you think?” Teodora barked an unpleasant laugh. “Well, you understand little enough about the affairs of state, so you’d be far wiser to listen to me. After all, I have your best interests at heart.”
“That is a lie.” Elektra said in a furious whisper. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” She spurred her horse, and made off down the path at a smart canter.
Teodora let her go, keeping her horse at a walk. A few minutes later, she reached a bend, and when she came around it, saw Elektra, her horse standing in the middle of the path. Teodora raised an eye
brow. “You should apologize. What did I do to deserve such ugly treatment? Really, I raised you to have better manners.”
“You didn’t raise me at all.” Elektra’s voice was louder now, but the guards kept a discreet distance. “You paid no attention to any of us until you needed us for something. Zofya told me she hadn’t laid eyes on you in three years before you told her she was marrying Gauvain Brevard. I doubt you even remembered you had children most of the time.” She was talking fast now, her face furious. “In fact, Braeden said—” she stopped short, likely realizing what she’d just given away.
Teodora laughed. “Oh, it’s Braeden now? I had a feeling you became friendlier with him than you ever let on. Tell me, did you plot with him to kill me?”
That was just a guess, but a lucky one, since the look of astonishment on Elektra’s face told her everything.
“I—I did no such thing,” Elektra said, though her voice lacked conviction. She took a deep breath. “I left a few things out of the story I told you.”
“Apparently,” Teodora said, unable to hide her glee, thrilled she had finally cornered the sneaky little weasel.
Elektra’s face reddened. “I wanted to impress you, and telling you that Braeden Terris delivered me to Mattila like a sack of potatoes was not that impressive.”
Now it was Teodora’s turn to be confused. “Braeden worked for Mattila?”
“No. That’s what I thought at first, but he was acting on his own. His wife and children died at Kersenstadt, in the fire, and he wanted to kill me as a way of taking revenge on you.”
“But he didn’t, clearly.” At the moment, Teodora was rather wishing he had.
“No, he didn’t. I convinced him that killing me wouldn’t bother you in the least, and he agreed.” Color flooded Elektra’s face, and she was breathing hard.
“Insolent wretch,” Teodora muttered.
“I told him I hated you and wanted you dead.” Elektra was talking faster now, as if the truth was pouring out of her.
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 122
