“Because I worry about you,” Sibyla said softly. “In my opinion as your doctor, you shouldn’t go into battle until you have the support of Mattila’s army. Leave the fighting to the professionals.”
“I am a professional.” Teodora’s words slurred. “I’m as capable as anyone. Now stop fussing and let me sleep.” If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Sibyla had given her the bedtime draught, possibly doubled it. Not that it mattered. Teodora yawned again, rolled over and went to sleep.
She dreamt again, but not in nightmares. Maybe it was because of the potion. Daciana was there, blackened and awful, but Teodora was happy to see her, now she’d gotten used to her new look.
“You are in danger, Your Highness” Daciana said, in her typical raspy voice. “Everyone fears you, and they don’t understand.”
“Everyone should fear me.” Teodora was speaking but her lips wouldn’t move.
“No.” Daciana’s neck creaked grotesquely as she shook her head. “They are certain you've lost your mind. They think you are harming yourself.”
“That’s ridiculous. The only people I’m harming are the enemy.” Teodora snickered, though no sound came out.
“Just be careful who you trust,” Daciana said, fading into a dark mist.
Teodora smiled, remembering her friend, and drifted off again. When she awoke it was dark and her mouth was dry. She reached for a mug of water that always stood by her bedside, but she couldn’t move her arms.
Perhaps she was still asleep. She tried again and came awake in a rush as she realized her wrists were bound tightly in front of her. She tried to jump up, but her ankles were bound as well. Had the enemy come? And if they had, why was she still alive? Perhaps they were carrying her off.
Teodora looked around frantically and saw she was still in her darkened tent. Who had done this? She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled against a rag tied to her face.
Elektra
Elektra was glad the page had waited up for her or she would have fallen into bed wearing her dress. She’d had far too much to drink, and the evening had taken an awkward turn.
As the feast wound down, Mattila turned to her son. “Jozef, will you escort the archduchess back to her tent? I’d hate for her to get lost in the dark.”
Elektra felt dizzy, and didn’t mind help, though she would have preferred Aksel’s company. But he was in even worse condition, dozing lightly, about to slide sideways out of his chair.
Several other guests had also had too much. A few lay passed out at table, while others wandered off into the dark, singing loudly. Elektra hoped the enemy wasn’t near. It would be the perfect time for an ambush.
“I don’t normally like things so rowdy,” Mattila said, “but this is a special occasion.”
“Thank you,” Elektra said, speaking carefully so her words didn’t slur. “You’re very kind.”
“I’ve always liked you, and don’t mind making a fuss over you now and then,” Mattila said. “Now you’d best get to bed. We have a lot to discuss tomorrow.”
Elektra got up, relieved to see Jozef standing ready to take her arm.
“Careful,” he said, his eyes warm in the torchlight. “Wouldn’t want to carry you back.”
That thought made Elektra laugh, and then hiccup. “Oh dear,” she said, holding on to Jozef as she stumbled along the grass. It was hard not to giggle. “I’m afraid I’ve made a bad impression. I don’t normally drink so much.”
“It’s all right,” he said, patting her hand. “I can tell. You hardly had any wine at all.”
“It seemed like a lot. Oh no.” Elektra’s head was spinning and she wanted to sit down.
“Dizzy?” Jozef slipped a hand around her waist and led her to a bench outside someone’s tent. “Here, sit for a moment.”
Elektra wanted to apologize for being such an inconvenience, but feared that if she opened her mouth, she might be sick. So she closed her eyes and leaned against Jozef, even though she didn’t particularly want to. At least he was nicer than she’d thought at first, even if he didn’t seem very smart. Perhaps he was just shy, though judging by the way he’d looked her over when they first met, Elektra doubted it.
She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m better, I think.”
“Good.” Jozef had an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her.
Elektra smiled back.
He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth warm and too wet.
Elektra was too shocked to do anything at first, though once she realized what was happening, she pulled away.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry.” Jozef took his arm away. “I really didn’t, I mean, it’s just that you’re so pretty and I’ve had too much to drink, and ...” He trailed off, looking down.
“It’s all right,” Elektra said, resisting the urge to wipe at her mouth. She’d always pictured her first kiss to be rather different. “We’ll just forget about it.”
“Of course,” Jozef said, helping her back to her feet. “Whatever you want.”
As they made their way to Elektra’s tent, she swore never to get so drunk again.
She swore it again when she awakened the next morning with a pounding head, her mouth full of sawdust. Her stomach heaved as she sat up.
Kyra the page was already there, and Elektra wondered where she’d slept, and if she was permanently assigned to her. She’d wait until her head cleared to ask about that.
Kyra brought cold water, and Elektra drank it down in great gulps, though that didn’t keep her from feeling sick. She lay back on the bed and groaned.
“I’ll find bread, Your Grace,”Kyra said. “It helps with the sickness.”
Elektra remembered Jozef kissing her and groaned again. Hopefully he’d been too drunk to remember.
The tent flap snapped as Kyra disappeared and soon she returned with a few heels of bread. Elektra forced herself to sit up, wincing. She was still in her underthings, though at least someone had loosened her corset. She hoped it had been the page.
Elektra nibbled on the bread, then asked, “I came in alone last night, didn’t I?”
Kyra nodded. “The baron brought you to the door, but didn’t come in.”
Elektra thought for a moment before she remembered Jozef was a baron, and realized with relief that his rank was too lowly to be a match for her. From now on, she’d do her best to avoid him, except on social occasions with a lot of other people around.
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Kyra’s dark eyes sparkled.
“I suppose.” Elektra gave up on the bread and got up. “Though I like Prince Aksel better.”
“But the spectacles make him look like a scholar.” Kyra wrinkled her nose.
Elektra wondered how old she was. “I like scholars. Now help me get dressed. I’m sure I must meet with the general soon.”
“Yes, she already sent word you’re to come to her tent whenever you’re ready.”
“Not ready,” Elektra muttered as she struggled into her riding dress, already laundered. It smelled good, of meadow and sunshine, like it had laid in the grass to dry. She pulled her hair back into a knot. She needed to look more business-like after last night. She didn’t want to give Mattila the impression she was a silly, giggling girl who couldn’t hold her wine, even though it was all true.
Elektra washed her face and drank more water. No point in putting it off any longer. It was time to go see the general.
Trystan
“What have you learned from the king?” Duke Philipe leaned forward, his eyes more animated than Trystan had yet seen them. The man held his liquor well too, since they’d started on the fine cognac, and Trystan was compelled to match the duke glass for glass.
“He’s not happy about your sister Charlise being Maxima, though I’m sure you knew that already. Of course, Natalya is now urging him to act against her.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” the duke muttered, pouring himself another glass and topping o
ff Trystan’s. “I hope you can give me details of their plan. If you do, I assure you you’ll get the army you want.”
“Why should I trust your word more than the king’s?” Trystan hoped he wasn’t going too far, but it seemed a reasonable question under the circumstances.
“I don’t suppose you can.” The duke smiled. “But you are at my mercy, here inside my fortress. It’s in your best interests to trust me. And besides, if you’ve heard anything about me from anyone other than the king, you’ll be aware that I have a reputation for being a man of honor.”
“I’ve heard that, and that’s why I came. To be honest, I was angry, and this probably wasn’t the wisest choice.” Trystan looked straight at the duchess. “Still, I like taking risks. When everything works out, I get what I want.”
The duchess raised an eyebrow, then took a small sip of cognac. She ran her tongue across her lips, as though retrieving a stray drop, though Trystan knew better. Next to this woman, Natalya was the picture of subtlety when it came to seduction.
“A little recklessness can be a useful quality,” the duke agreed, rolling his eyes at his wife. Apparently he was used to her flirting with their guests. “Very well then, if your information helps me stop this plot against my sister, and maybe more, you’ll have your army. How many do you need?”
“I imagine twenty thousand should do it.” Trystan stared at the duke.
He laughed. “You’re bold. I like that. But ten thousand is enough in this case.”
“Fifteen,” Trystan said with a smirk.
“Thirteen.” The duke raised his glass to Trystan.
“All right.” Trystan raised his as well. “That’s a good start for me.”
“Now,” the duke said, “I want every detail of the king's plans.”
“Right.” Trystan was feeling foggy, but not as much as the heir, Count Michel, whose head drooped onto his chest, while he snored lightly. “The king and Natalya plan to move on your sister in the next few days.”
“Aren’t they worried about their daughter?”
“They are certain she’s already dead,” Trystan said, his heart in his mouth.
“Perhaps I need to send more body parts then.” The duke’s eyes were like ice.
“They don’t believe they belong to her.” Trystan struggled to keep his voice even, surprised at how hard it was to talk about dismembering a child, after all the things he’d seen and done already. “The king has searched for and found several dozen children within twenty leagues of Allaux, all bearing similar marks on their hands.
“He claims one of your household guards told him he’d killed the Lady Joslyn while she was trying to escape. After that, you found a little boy with similar markings and brought him here. The king believes it’s his finger you sent.”
That made an impression. The duke’s eyes went wide, and Duchess Monique made a small noise, awakening Michel.
“Wait, what?” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Shut up and listen,” the duke snapped, then turned back to Trystan. “This is bad,” he said, “though I’m glad you told me. How can I stop the king from acting against my sister?”
“Simple,” Trystan said. “By showing him his daughter is alive.”
“That’s risky. Do they expect us to make a move?”
“Yes, they do, though they plan to kill your sister first. They’re hopeful you don’t yet realize that Natalya is with the king and are still looking for her in the countryside. The king has already given the orders and is drawing in troops from regiments on their way to the front. Within two days he expects to have a force of sufficient size to overpower the temple guards and secure the city against you.”
“He must be stopped.” The duke brought a fist down on the table, causing a great clatter as plates and glasses bounced. “And while I’m at it, perhaps I should remove him from the throne. I wonder if he’d agree to stepping down in exchange for his daughter’s life.”
“He might,” Trystan said. Let the man get carried away with the possibilities.
“That would be marvelous.” The duke’s eyes lit up. “The de la Tours were kings once. We have as much claim to the throne as the upstart Brevards.”
“I know,” Trystan said. “As I recall from my history lessons, your ancestors presided over a golden age for Galladium.”
“Indeed.” The duke preened. It seemed Trystan had found his weakness, though to be fair, glorious ancestors were a favorite topic for most nobles.
“So...” Trystan needed to return to the topic at hand before he got too drunk to reason. Count Michel was drooping again. “You must act quickly.” He wanted to suggest taking Joslyn along, but it would be better for the duke to think it was his idea.
“Oh, we will,” the duke said. “We’ll leave out in the morning, and you’re coming along.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Trystan smiled. “I had a feeling you’d want to jump on this opportunity.”
“You understand that you’ll be heavily guarded until it’s clear you’re being truthful. You and the Lady Joslyn.”
“Of course,” Trystan said, looking solemn while his insides jumped with glee. Within hours, Natalya’s daughter would be free of these walls.
Maryna
“I need more information, Your Grace,” Emilya Hohenwart said as they prepared to leave Lerania. “Who knows what we’ll be walking into?”
She, Maryna and Anton were strolling along the Lerania docks. Since she wasn't sure who was really in charge of this kingdom Maryna was eager to get out of it.
“Well, we know Teodora is out there,” Anton offered.
“Yes, but where? And we can only guess at her numbers.”
“Less than we have,” Anton said. “Elektra told me she’d taken the Moraltan mercenaries, and there are only two thousand of them at most.”
“I suppose that’s good,” Hohenwart said, stopping as they came to Maryna’s boat. She was as grumpy as Maryna remembered, always shouting at her soldiers about tiny infractions, and pessimistic about their mission.
Still, Maryna was glad to have her. Though she’d taken a beating from Mattila years ago, Hohenwart had racked up several impressive victories in Floradias in the meantime. And Maryna doubted anyone but Lennart possessed such a complete array of artillery.
Once all the contracts had been signed, Anton took Maryna on an inspection of her new army. They looked clean and well-equipped, but she wasn't sure if that meant anything.
“They’re in good shape,” Anton said later. “Experienced too. They might not look it, being so shiny, but Hohenwart is known for that. It’s one reason she’s always shouting at every poor fellow with mismatched buttons or boots that weren’t polished twice.”
“I’m glad they’re competent.” Maryna took Anton’s arm as he handed her out of the carriage, then smiled up at him. “And I like it that they’re shiny.”
Before they left Lerania, Hohenwart had one more requirement. “We must get you a nice suit of armor, Your Grace.”
“Me? I’m no good at fighting, I’m afraid.”
“Doesn’t matter. If you’re ruler of Terragand, the people will expect you to ride at the head of your army. In peacetime, a riding dress would be fine. But while you’re at war, you want to look like you know your business.”
“I see.” Maryna frowned. “I hate to delay while I’m fitted for a suit, though.”
“Might not have to.” Hohenwart offered a rare smile. “You’re not very big, so I have something that might work.” She shouted at a soldier who left for one of the boats at a run. When he returned, he bore a large, clanking sack.
Hohenwart dumped it onto the dock. “It’ll need a good polishing but it should serve.”
Maryna bent down and picked up a pauldron. It was small, and the other pieces were also. “Who did this belong to?”
“It’s mine.” Hohenwart picked up a gauntlet and shook her head. “The first suit I had when I joined the military at sixteen. My uncle e
quipped me. A few years later, I had a growth spurt and needed to get a new set. A real shame, since this one is nice.”
“It is.” Anton picked up another piece. “You should try this on, Your Grace, so we can get any adjustments made quickly.”
“How do I put this on?” Maryna asked, puzzling over some leather straps.
“My page can help you,” Hohenwart said. “You’ll need one of your own to help you in and out every day.”
“I have to wear this every day?” It looked rather uncomfortable.
“Once we’ve reached Terragand, I’d advise it.” Hohenwart’s eyes hardened. “We have to be ready for anything.”
“All right,” Maryna said, then spent an unpleasant half hour getting strapped into the whole suit while Hohenwart shouted instructions at the nervous page.
Still, when she looked in the mirror she had to admit she appeared rather impressive, even a little bigger.
“You’ll want to keep your hair pulled back so the helmet goes on easy,” Hohenwart commented. “Though, it’s easier to just cut it off.”
“Oh gods, no!” Maryna gasped. Her hair was her best feature, she thought, and she’d had a vision of herself riding in her armor looking like a warrior goddess, her curls tumbling down her back. It probably wasn’t practical, though.
So she ordered Greta to pull her hair into one tight braid, well away from her face, when their boats docked in Terragand. A page Hohenwart sent over helped her into the armor, which fit better now she had a heavy quilted shirt to wear under it. She hoped it wouldn’t be too warm.
Walking felt awkward as she clanked down the gangplank, but the discomfort was worth it when she saw Anton’s eyes.
He fell in beside her to escort her to her horse and murmured in her ear, “Now you really are the woman of my dreams.”
Maryna’s breath caught and she couldn’t even look at him, though her embarrassment soon fled in the confusion of departure.
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 25
