“Under the same terms we discussed for Stony Creek,” Laina said. She wrote Captain Drail’s name beside three of the seven remaining streams. Privately she was grateful that the sulfur stream leading past her secret hot spring was among her father’s four.
“And are we to pay for trees that we’ve cut from the banks of the other four?”
Laina wished she could extract some payment from him for the troubles he had caused her people, but it would not be just. “No,” she said. “The bridges were necessary. The people of Lostport will benefit from them as much as you will.”
“And as to what happens if the rivers flood and we’re trapped out here? Your father made sure we had no ships in our possession.”
Laina wished he would stop asking questions and let her join Conard. She was itching to see him. “If you wish, you can pay us a small insurance to guarantee supplies in case of an emergency. If not, you’re on your own.”
“How much?”
Laina did a quick calculation and came up with an amount that would compensate for both the ship that had been stolen and the trading post the builders had raided.
Captain Drail blinked at the number but said, “Right. We’ll do it.” He drew up a quick slip of parchment with the terms of the agreement, and Laina told him the supplies would last for a quarter, after which he would need to call upon Whitland for aid. Once they had each signed both documents, and Captain Drail had handed her a bulging pouch of gemstones, Laina was finally free to go.
“Thank you for this,” he said, holding the tent flap aside for her. “You’re a decent woman, milady. I think you might make a decent queen as well.”
Laina ducked her head in gratitude and hurried into the darkness. It was a moment before she found the path and recognized the way back to Stony Creek, during which she expected a soldier to spring from the darkness and attack her. She felt very uneasy with what had just transpired. When she told her father the terms she had agreed to, he would be furious. She knew he would never knowingly relinquish the rights to his rivers, though she hoped she had lessened the damage by granting water rights to Captain Drail rather than King Luistan. She also hoped he would somehow be able to come up with enough food to supply the camp for ten days. The likelihood of the forest road washing away was greater by the day; kings had built roads through those parts before, and had abandoned each attempt after a catastrophic landslide took away the majority of the hillside where the road was perched.
As soon as she cleared the river, she began running up the hill toward the pass, the soft rain mixing with sweat on her forehead. She hoped Conard had understood her, and hoped he had managed to slip away unnoticed. If only she could come up with an excuse to keep him in Lostport when the rains came. She did not want him trapped in Port Emerald without supplies.
At the pass, she turned and raised her lantern, gazing back at the twinkling fires spread through the valley below. It looked almost like an army readying itself to march on Lostport.
A pair of arms shot out from the trees and dragged Laina into the brush. Though she had expected something of the sort, she shrieked softly and struggled against her captor.
“I thought you’d never come!” Conard whispered in her ear. He lost his balance and toppled backward, sending them both plunging into a dense, springy bush.
Laina wriggled free of his grasp and stared at him for a long moment, lantern raised, ensuring he was unharmed. Every day she feared the builders would discover his subterfuge. When he gave her a cheeky grin, she wrapped him in a fierce embrace and buried her face in his shoulder.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, her voice muffled.
Conard held her tight, cheek against her head. “Here I’ve been imagining you having romantic candlelit dinners with Jairus and turning into a queen so far above me you’d never look my way.”
Laina snorted. “I think Jairus likes me, but he’s so grim and silent I never know what’s going through his head. And no one could ever replace you.”
“What about that Whitish prince?”
Laina sat up and smiled at Conard. “You mean stupid Prince Ronnick? Father sent him off on a mission more than a span ago, and he’s never come back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he crawled back home begging his father for forgiveness and asking never to be sent to Lostport again.”
“What does that mean for you, then?” Conard asked, his light tone belying what Laina knew was a serious question.
“I have no idea. I can’t inherit the throne unless I marry someone of royal blood, and my father doesn’t have any better choice for an heir.” She took Conard’s hands. “And if I don’t inherit, or if Doran doesn’t return, King Luistan gets to choose the next heir. Probably his own son.”
“It’s true, then,” Conard muttered.
“What?”
“I haven’t got any hope of being with you. Lostport is more important than one stupid person.”
Laina took his face in her hands and met his eyes, willing herself not to cry. “Nothing is certain,” she whispered. “If I don’t have you, what reason do I have to love this land? I may as well leave and travel the world.”
“Abandoning Lostport to fall to pieces.”
Laina hung her head. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything anymore. I’ve been trying to keep things in order while my father’s been ill, but everything is wrong. I’ve only made things worse.”
Conard ducked his head and kissed her until she met his eyes again. His lips were warm even in the bitter night, and she could taste wood-smoke and honey in his mouth.
At last he released her. “What are you talking about? What’s happened to your father?”
He didn’t know? “That day I went off to the gypsy’s camp—he came after me. He was worried. It was dark, and he fell halfway to the camp. I think he must have had a stroke. He’s been lying in bed ever since, dizzy and unable to stand.”
“It’s not your fault,” Conard said.
“Yes it is,” Laina said vehemently. Just because she was a woman and the daughter of the king, no one dared to blame her for anything. “I should never have left home, not without telling him. He’s been paranoid ever since Doran’s accident. He no longer trusts me to look after myself.”
“He’ll recover,” Conard said. “He’s strong and young enough still.”
“And as soon as he does, he’ll see how much of a mess I’ve made of this place. I’ve gotten the townspeople paranoid and thinking the builders will attack them at every turn; I’ve as good as admitted we have no power whatsoever against King Luistan; I’ve promised supplies to your building captain in case of disaster; and I’ve relinquished the rights to half the rivers in the kingdom.”
“What would your father have done differently?” Conard asked.
Laina shook her head disconsolately. “I have no idea. That’s the real problem—he’s never told me how to rule a country. It was always Doran watching him and following his lead and practicing policymaking. I have no idea how a country runs, except from the outside. My father’s office is buried in paperwork that needs to be signed or refuted, and I can’t even understand half the wording. I’m hopeless.”
“Do you want to rule? Do you want that burden?” Conard’s expression was serious. “Because I know you would be a fantastic queen. And if that’s what you really want, I’ll stay with you and support you for the rest of my life, even if I can never be with you. Or I’ll leave, if that would be easier.”
“No! I want you here.” Laina kissed him lightly. “But I couldn’t bear to see this kingdom handed over to King Luistan. He doesn’t care for the place; he just wants to make a profit. He’d turn it into a full-scale mining operation, and ruin the mountains forever.”
“I could be your secret lover,” Conard said, his lips twitching. “I could hide in a cave in the forest and you could visit me whenever you wanted. I’d probably grow a massive beard.”
“Ugh!” Laina kissed his nose. “I’d shear it straig
ht off.”
“Speaking of caves, are you going to tell me what you’re here for? I think I know, but I want to make sure. After all, you didn’t come all this way just to tell me you missed me.”
“Maybe I did.” Laina tugged at Conard’s ear. “But you’re right. I’m officially here to tell you the cave is ready. You’ve got to pretend you discovered the gemstone hoard tonight, and tomorrow morning return to camp to tell your friends what you’ve found.”
“I’ll pretend my gypsy sweetheart showed it to me,” Conard said. “They thought I’d been visiting the gypsies back when Jairus showed me the cave and nearly got himself killed.” He grinned. “If I don’t have to return until morning, does that mean I get to steal you for the night?”
Laina bit her lip, considering. “I have to be back by sunrise. Things are going badly at home, and I’m trying to organize the townsfolk to hide their valuables before the Whitish burn the village to the ground. But I might have a wee while before then…”
“You should see the cave,” Conard said. He jumped to his feet and helped Laina up, wrapping an arm around her waist. “It’s a bit hard to find, but I’ll trust your sense of direction to get us back if we lose our way.”
“I’ll just head downhill,” Laina said. “No trouble.”
Before long Conard had to take the lead as the forest closed in around them. He wove back and forth for a while, as though searching for a familiar trail, and eventually they stumbled across a dry streambed that they began to follow. Skirting around a large, drooping tree, they emerged at the mouth of a cave fringed with moss and dripping lightly from the rain.
“See if you can find the hoard,” Conard teased, stepping aside for Laina and bowing with a flourish.
“Hah!” She raised her lantern and stepped into the cave, which sloped away from her and opened wider and wider the deeper it went. Her lantern cast a wide enough glow that it illuminated the walls on either side, though it seemed to have no end.
Ten steps in, Laina froze, her foot in the air. The ground vanished directly before her. Lowering her lantern, she realized the cave dropped away in a hole that went deeper than she could see. Quickly she scrambled back two paces.
“Were you trying to make me fall down there?” she demanded, punching Conard in the arm. “Is that your solution to keep me from taking the throne? Trap me down there with you forever?”
“Right in one.” He grinned at her. “Try over to the left.”
Picking her way more carefully now, Laina sidled along the wall of the cavern until she saw a small opening leading into what looked like a second chamber beyond. When she ducked through the gap, her lantern threw dancing light on a hundred half-buried gemstones.
“That’s incredible.”
Conard slipped in behind her and drew her against him, chin on her shoulder. “Pretty convincing, right?”
Laina nudged at a gemstone with her toe, the uneven facets catching the light and sending color rippling across the ceiling. “I’m half-tempted to dig these up and take them home.”
Conard’s lips were against her neck now, soft and urgent, and Laina could not resist arching against the warm length of his body. She turned in his arms and caught his mouth with her own, the lantern falling forgotten to her side.
When she felt Conard stiffening, he pulled away. “I can’t do this to you. You’ll never be able to rule.”
“I might not anyway, at the rate Whitland is going,” she murmured. “King Luistan will take this place by force if he can’t do it more subtly.” She could see the longing in his eyes, suppressed for so long. “Besides, I’m feeling reckless. Screw Lostport.”
Conard stared at her for a long time, as though trying to read her mind. She could see the thoughts warring in his head—if he got what he yearned for, she could turn around and blame him for losing the throne. But if he didn’t, he might never get another chance.
At last he kissed her almost violently and lowered her to the ground. A glass gemstone bit into her thigh, but she hardly noticed.
“You have no idea how long I’ve loved you,” Conard said. “Sweet seducer, Laina. I—”
She silenced him with a kiss. With Port Emerald nearly finished and the gemstone scheme ready and herself making deals with Captain Drail behind her father’s back, Conard was the only thing she was certain of. She wanted him with a desperation that overrode all sense.
His lips teasing at Laina’s ear, Conard tugged up her skirts. She wasn’t wearing stockings, which her father often reminded her would have scandalized her mother if she had still been in Lostport. She fumbled at his belt, warmth flooding her body. She could feel every place where their skin met, and when Conard traced his finger along the inside of her thigh, she shuddered.
His body went still. Hands lingering by her side, knees tight around Laina’s hips, he paused and stared into her hungry eyes.
“Are you certain?” he whispered.
“Yes!”
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the gemstone cave, their naked bodies pillowed on Laina’s dress. Laina played with Conard’s fair hair, which had grown long and untidy in his spans of exile. He just watched her, a look of purest contentment softening his features.
“What have they done to your back?” Laina asked softly. She had noticed it as soon as Conard took off his shirt—a gnarled mass of scars and lines running across his formerly smooth skin.
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly.
Laina raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been whipped, haven’t you? I should never have sent you there.”
Conard shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
Laina rolled him onto his stomach and examined his back, kissing the raised scars. They looked recent; some had barely begun to heal.
At last Conard turned and gave her a kiss. “You ought to head off now, if you want to be home by dawn.”
“I should’ve left ages ago,” Laina said.
Conard shrugged and pulled on his breeches. He traced a finger from her neck down to her breast before standing. “Here, I’ll give you a hand.”
He helped fasten the buttons all down Laina’s dress, face buried in her hair as he worked, and finally bent to fetch the lantern. “Now run home and look after the kingdom, will you? I don’t want anything going wrong while you’re dawdling out here.”
The rain was coming down harder now, a glistening curtain across the cave mouth. They held hands as they walked down the now-flowing streambed in silence, and when at last they reached the forest road, Conard swept Laina into a painful embrace.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you.”
“You too.”
Then she tore herself from his grasp and turned down the long, lonely road home.
When she rounded the bend and came in sight of Lostport, drenched and shivering, Laina was immediately stopped by two Whitish soldiers.
“What is your business?” one demanded.
“I am the daughter of King Faolan,” she said wearily. “I have just returned from negotiating a deal with Captain Drail. Please let me pass.” She hoped they would believe her, despite her muddy skirts and disheveled hair.
The guards shared a look before stepping aside. Whether they trusted her word or not, they probably thought it was safer not to risk offending the king.
“Why the increased security?” she asked lightly, pausing just past the guards.
“Trouble tonight,” one said. “The Varrilans are planning an attack on Lostport, and when we tried to apprehend one of them, the townsfolk came after us and killed two of our number. We’ve decided that the next person who sets foot in the streets will die.”
“I hope I won’t be shot at,” Laina said sternly. “You would have a great deal of explaining to do if the princess of Lostport ended up with an arrow through her skull.”
“If you allow us to escort you to the end of town, you won’t be harmed,” one of th
e soldiers said.
“One of you can accompany me,” Laina said. “The other can tell the rest of your men to calm down. We’re not at war!”
“Easy enough for you to say,” the second soldier grumbled. When Laina strode off toward the village, one soldier quickly fell into step behind her, his boots sloshing in the muddy string of puddles. Their caution had been well-merited, it seemed—the usual patrol of Lostporters had vanished, replaced by Whitish soldiers attempting unsuccessfully to hide in the shadows. Had their uniforms been anything other than white, they would have vanished in the gloom.
At the end of town, Laina said, “That’s enough. Leave me be.”
The soldier gave her a quick bow and marched back the way he had come, his white pants caked with mud. As soon as he was out of sight, Laina hurried to the step of the closest home and rapped on the door. It was a long time before anyone answered, though at last the door opened a crack and a voice whispered, “Princess Laina?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Can I speak to you?”
The door opened just wide enough for Laina to slip through. She stayed on the doormat, loath to track mud through someone’s tidy home. Inside, candles were lit throughout the room, though the lanterns were extinguished. The entire family—three children, their parents, and one old man—sat together around a table, one writing in a journal, the others staring at Laina.
“What’s happened?” she asked softly. “The soldiers said there was an attack.”
The man who had let Laina into the house nodded. “A young Varrilan man was attacked earlier today, and a pair of rash village boys retaliated. Now the Whitish are all up in arms, and our patrols have retreated to their homes. Everyone is scared we’ll be attacked before the night is up.”
“They’ve sent for reinforcements,” the man’s wife said. “They’ve threatened to bring the entire building crew into town and subdue us.”
“That might have been an empty boast,” Laina said. “I have just returned from the builders’ camp, and I met no one on the road.” She hoped she spoke the truth; there was a chance the men had stopped at the gypsy’s camp to escape the rain.
The Fall of Lostport Page 36
