“For the pain,” he explained, “which will be terrible for a time.” The doctor drew his brows together as he regarded Trisa, her face pale and small with her dark hair spread across the pillow. “My bigger concern is infection. Lead balls make an awful mess and though I cleaned the wound as well as I could, there’s still a danger of it festering.”
Devyn swallowed. “What happens if it does?”
The doctor sighed. “She’ll get a fever and die, most likely.”
“I can hear you,” Trisa said in an irritated voice, her eyes flying open.
“She won’t die.” Braeden winked at her. He was certain of that by now. Trisa was young, healthy, exceedingly strong-willed, and the doctor seemed to know his business. And from the intent way Devyn scowled at her, Braeden guessed he was putting all of his even stronger will toward wanting her better. Braeden had seen it a time or two; the determination of a comrade pulling even the most grievously wounded through the worst of it.
Braeden put a hand on Devyn’s shoulder. “Do as the doctor says, both of you. I’m going to talk to Princess Gwynneth.”
Unless they waited for Lennart, they’d leave before Trisa was well enough to travel. Since Gwynneth was not one for sitting around, Braeden guessed she’d be considering all possibilities, then making plans.
He found Gwynneth in the library, her quill poised over a sheet of paper, apparently lost in thought. She put the quill down and smiled at Braeden as he approached. “How is she today?”
“A little better.” Braeden slouched into a chair across from her. He and Gwynneth had become shockingly informal with each other.
“Good. I don’t suppose Devyn is giving up his vigil anytime soon?”
“Not a chance.” Braeden chuckled. “She’ll probably have to kick him out once she’s feeling better.”
Gwynneth smiled. “I hope she does. We must take him along, though I doubt he’ll want to go. I’ve wondered if he has a crush on her, but now I’m worried it’s more serious than that.”
“Isn’t he young for that?” Even as he said it, Braeden wondered too. At twelve or thirteen, he would have been in awe of someone like Trisa, and to be honest, at least a little bit in love.
“I hope. It seems he regards her as an older sister; a substitute for Maryna.” Gwynneth’s eyes grew sad. She had to be thinking of her missing daughter. There had been no word from Anton and the others. If there’d been a message, it likely would have gone to Isenwald, and they’d never receive it.
“That can be a tight bond,” Braeden said, “and under the circumstances, it’s not a bad thing.”
“True.” Gwynneth pushed away the letter she’d been writing. “I haven’t yet had a reply to my message to Lennart.”
“Isn’t it too soon for that?”
“A little, but I’m not the most patient person. If the messenger had to go all the way to Tirilis, they would only have arrived in the last day or two. It’ll take time to get a response, and even longer for Lennart to send help.” Gwynneth clasped her hands on the desk. “We ought to go see Duke Orland and rally the western estates.”
Braeden raised his eyebrows. “You make it sound so easy. While I’m sure at least part of the aristocracy supports you, it’s hard to know who else will, besides Orland. We have to cross a lot of territory before we reach him.”
“I realize that.” Gwynneth had that determined jut to her jaw. Braeden knew it well, and also knew it would be impossible to sway her from her course now. “I’ve been considering that too. Colonel Destler returned here with nearly three hundred troops. It’s not a lot, but ought to be enough to provide us with a strong guard. We’ll just have to avoid trouble if we can.”
“You? Avoid trouble?” Braeden couldn’t help it, though he hoped she noticed the twinkle in his eye.
“Hah.” Gwynneth smirked. “I’ve learned from my mistakes, believe me.” A shadow crossed her eyes. “I won’t lie; I’m not keen on seeing Duke Orland.”
“Are you on bad terms with him?” The man had a reputation for being stubborn and difficult.
“No.” Gwynneth wrinkled her nose, avoiding Braeden’s eyes. “It’s a personal matter. I probably ought to tell you, but I hate talking about it.”
Braeden could guess, but didn’t want to be the one to tell her she and the duke’s son had been the subject of considerable gossip several years before. “No need,” he said, as if he didn’t care. “Is there a chance the duke will put those differences aside and help you and Prince Devyn anyway?”
Now Gwynneth looked at him. “I believe he will. I hope he will. But we must go now, and take the children with us.”
Trystan
“Only two days to Allaux, if the weather holds.” Natalya smiled at Trystan.
After their rather intense conversation several days before, Trystan had worried he might die of embarrassment. But aside from an occasional pensive glance, Natalya did not indicate that anything had changed, and before long, Trystan found things had gone back to normal.
“We’ve been lucky so far. No word of any Maladenes in the area,” he said. The weather had been mild and spring-like, budding trees lining the roads, while puffy clouds sailed overhead. Traveling like this was no problem at all.
“It seems the war hasn’t extended this far north, for which I’m thankful. That means Gauvain has held the Maladenes to the southern provinces. Those are the real prize for them anyway. They’ll come up with any excuse to grab them.” Natalya’s mouth hardened. “My religious reforms were just an excuse for Queen Beatryz to invade.”
Trystan began to understand. “Which might not make you popular among Galladians affected by war.”
“Exactly. Those who wish for friendship with Maladena are many. I also hoped to avert war, but something happened while I was gone.”
“So they can hardly blame it on you.”
“A detail like my absence won’t matter to my enemies. They’ll claim I orchestrated the whole thing from the decks of a pirate ship.”
“Which you could have, if you’d wanted to.” Trystan had to laugh.
“Maybe.” Natalya looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Let’s plan the best way to enter Allaux. I’d prefer to do it quietly, until we know what’s happening.”
“I agree,” Trystan said. Though he’d grown more comfortable in his priest’s robes, he’d still prefer it if not too many people saw him that way. He couldn’t let word get back to Kronland that he’d gone soft, even though he had.
So far, they’d run into no military patrols; it seemed all of the army had gone south, leaving only city garrisons in place. Trystan worried he’d grown careless, especially as they neared Allaux. But all the same, when he heard the telltale jangle of a harness and the clank of armor from the road ahead, he grabbed Natalya’s mule. “Let’s get off the road,” he said.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t object as he led her through the new grass and into a thicket some distance from the road. It wasn’t a well-traveled one. The priest at the temple where they’d last spent the night said it was used mostly on feast days, as folk from the area estates journeyed to the nearest town for the festivities.
The wind had borne the sound straight to Trystan’s sharp ears, but the party took its time in coming. “It’s a military troop,” he whispered to Natalya while they waited, the mules nuzzling the tender grass in the thicket’s center.
Her eyes lit up. “Likely the escort Gauvain sent for me.”
Trystan shook his head. “They should be far off to the east, looking for you. If they were on their way back, they’d be coming from the other direction.”
“Still Galladians though, I’m sure.” Natalya wore a hopeful smile.
“Most likely. But it seems not all Galladians are friends of yours.”
“True.” The smiled faded. “You’re right to be cautious.”
Trystan dismounted quietly. “I’ll get back to the road and see if I can identify a standard. If anything happens, get back to tha
t temple as fast as you can.”
“Why would anything happen?” Natalya’s voice was quiet, but far more high-pitched than usual.
“I doubt anything will.” Trystan handed her his mule’s reins. “But it’s best to be safe, don’t you think?”
His hand went to his belt, but found no sword. No weapon of any kind, since Natalya had insisted that would look suspicious on a priest. Trystan would have to do his best not to be seen.
He crept back through the thicket, grateful for the drab brown of his robes. If no one was looking for him, they wouldn’t see him. By the time he reached the road, the party drew near. Banners fluttered above the heads of the lead horsemen and Trystan strained his eyes hoping to spot the hawk of house Brevard. But the standard was one he didn’t recognize—a black horse on red.
The party passed far too slowly and Trystan shrank into the bushes even as he did his best to count. They were about twenty, and looking for someone, though somewhat lazily, scanning the road ahead as they talked.
Trystan listened carefully, but the wind had risen, blowing away snatches of conversation, and his Galladian wasn’t good enough to pick up the rest. So he waited for them to pass, then returned to Natalya.
Her face was pale, her eyes wide. Whitened knuckles gripped the reins. “Thank the gods,” she whispered. “You were gone so long.”
“I would have made a lot of noise if they’d snatched me,” Trystan said with a cheeriness he didn’t feel. He was nearly certain the party was looking for Natalya, but something told him that wasn’t a good thing. He described the banner to her.
Natalya frowned. “That’s the De La Tour standard. I'm not sure if they’re friendly. Let me think about it.”
They stood in the thicket for a long time while Natalya furrowed her brow. “Oh dear,” she finally said. “They won't be helpful to me.”
“How do you know?”
Natalya licked her lips. “Charlise De La Tour rose to the position of priestess of one of Allaux’s largest temples just a few months before I left. She gained her position by promising the clergy who opposed me she would return her temple to the true faith. I never thought much of her abilities, but, while unintelligent, she’s cunning, and her family is one of the most powerful in Galladium. I could picture her making an unsuccessful play for Maxima.”
“She will certainly be unsuccessful,” Trystan said, indignant. “Is this her family’s territory? Might this be a routine patrol?”
“We’ve seen no other patrols.” Natalya had grown even paler. “And their lands are far to the west. I can think of only one reason they are traveling in force on this side of the country.”
Anton
Anton was dizzy with happiness after hearing Maryna wanted to marry him someday, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it. He had to get dressed up and socialize with a bunch of snooty nobles. Because that was what they were. Princess Keylinda wasn’t too bad on her own, but in the company of her family and the members of her court, her nose was stuck so far in the air, she’d drown if it rained.
Maryna sat at Keylinda’s right side, with her heir, Duke Alfryd Marthaler on his mother’s left. Anton had been placed near the foot of the long table, between an ancient, deaf baroness, and an even older count, who shouted across Anton at the deaf lady for the entire meal.
The princess seemed to have changed her mind about Karil, and seated him next to her youngest daughter, a mischievous-looking girl with dark brown ringlets and a sly smile. Karl was clearly terrified.
Anton kept a close eye on the head of the table, though he wasn't able to hear the conversation, due to all the shouting around him. He decided Duke Alfryd was unimpressive. He seemed to be about twenty, and had inherited his mother’s common looks.
Alfryd gazed at Maryna admiringly, but didn’t appear to have much to say to her. It looked like Keylinda was trying to get them to talk, but while Maryna chatted politely, she sneaked constant glances at Anton.
He looked back, catching her eye every now and then, and once even winked at her when he thought he might get away with it. At that she blushed and looked down. Anton worried he would explode with joy, and wondered when they might be alone again.
The formidable Greta seemed to have disappeared upon their arrival at the palace, probably making herself comfortable in the servant’s quarters. Anton needed to take advantage of the situation while he could. Once they were back on the road, it would be impossible.
He picked at his food and marveled at how different this was from Susanna. He still missed her sometimes, but he’d been just a boy when they’d first met. So much had happened since she died. He was no longer the lowly pikeman who’d shared a tent with a pretty sutler.
By now, he realized he was meant for bigger and better things. Ending up as consort to the Princess of Terragand seemed ambitious, but not too far out of reach. Especially not if she wanted it too.
Princess Gwynneth would likely be opposed, but only at first. Anton knew she liked him; perhaps he could charm her into giving her consent. He spent the rest of the long meal dreaming, and occasionally catching Maryna’s eye, and was startled when everyone around him got up from their chairs and left the room.
The whole crowd moved into an adjoining room where a small orchestra and a singer were setting up. Anton wasn’t sure he could bear it once the woman started singing. Everyone else looked rapturous, but in his opinion, she sounded like a scalded cat. He wanted to cover his ears, or escape to the garden, but it would be rude. Besides, Maryna looked as enthralled as everyone else, so Anton did his best to pretend to appreciate the awful noise.
After what seemed like hours, the music ended, and everyone got up, standing around chatting in clumps. His ears still ringing, Anton pushed through the fancy crowd, looking for Maryna, but Karil got to him first.
“Time for bed,” he said, grabbing Anton by the elbow and steering him toward the door.
“But the evening isn’t over yet.” Anton looked over his shoulder. He still didn’t see Maryna. Surely Duke Alfryd hadn’t gotten to her after all?
“It is for us,” Karil said. “I need to avoid getting stuck with a Fromenberger bride, and you need to stay out of trouble.”
Now they were walking down the corridor, Anton dragging his feet. Perhaps Maryna would catch up to them. “Are you saying you didn’t propose to that girl at dinner?” he teased.
Karil shuddered. “She’s awful. I see why her mother wants to get rid of her. But it won’t be me. We’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t we?” He gazed up at Anton anxiously.
“The day after, maybe two. We have a few things to take care of here.”
“Oh gods,” Karil said. “I’ll have to hide. Maybe I’ll go live in the stable.”
They climbed the stairs, then stopped in front of the door to Anton’s room.
Karil looked him in the eye, though Anton wanted to avoid it. “Tomorrow I'll find Greta. No more spending time alone with Princess Maryna.”
Anton didn't realize he’d been so obvious. “Why? Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. At least not for a long time.”
Karil looked very serious. “It’ll never happen, and you need to get used to the idea. It seems possible right now because she isn’t near her family. But you know Princess Gwynneth won’t stand for it.”
“I can convince her.” Anton smirked.
“Not in this.” Karil put a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m your friend and I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Very happy.”
“Right now. But if you let this go any further, you’ll be miserable before long.”
“She wants it too,” Anton said, even as the awful feeling that Karil was right crept over him.
“She probably thinks she does.” Karil’s voice was soft. “She might look older, but she’s a girl still. She’ll likely change her mind a hundred times before she turns seventeen. When her family starts reasoning with her, she’ll do as she’s told.”
“She’s
Princess of Terragand,” Anton whispered. “She can do what she wants.”
“You know that’s not true,” Karil said. “Now go to bed.” And he stood at Anton’s door until he went inside and closed it.
Trystan
“We must take shelter at the last temple we stayed at,” Natalya said. “The priest won’t let anyone take me.”
“Won’t they look there first?”
“I don’t see why. They will expect me to have an escort of some kind. Chances are we could walk right past them and they wouldn’t look twice.”
"We can't count on that.” Trystan’s head was spinning. They were so close to Allaux, and yet the danger was greater than it had been since he’d fought Vega. “We must be sure they don’t see you. How far is it to the next temple?”
“Not far. There will be one in the next town, though I hadn’t thought to stop there.”
“Maybe we should, but carefully. What if the De La Tours are watching the temples?”
“You’re right.” Though Natalya appeared serious, her eyes bore a spark. Most likely she looked forward to a bit of trouble as much as Trystan did.
Annoying as the situation was, it created an interesting problem of the type Trystan liked solving. They returned to the road and continued on their way, though Trystan was by now on full alert, scanning both sides of the road for possible ambushes, while he assessed every bush and stone outcropping as potential cover.
When the town came into view a scant hour later, he breathed in a deep sigh of relief. So far every temple had offered them refuge without question, all of the clergy showing Natalya proper deference. He hoped this one would be no different.
Before approaching the temple, he insisted on Natalya staying in a quiet tavern. With the hood of her cloak drawn up, no one would recognize her while Trystan scouted ahead.
“I’ll return to you when I know it’s safe,” he told her, seated across the table from her inside the tavern. “I’ll ask about the De La Tours while I’m at it.”
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 6
