And so we have. After I’d been separated from Aleta and the others. Before we’d made it to Clavins. When Aleta, Tregle, and Meddie had been in the care of bandits. When no one knew where Caden was and the last time anyone had heard of him was that he had been sighted in the vicinity of Ruin’s Reaping.
The worry over missing friends. The concern that I’d find Tregle and Caden dead.
I gnaw at my thumb beneath my teeth.
Yes. Unfortunately, these aren’t new emotions for me.
I don’t respond to Liam’s stating of the obvious. Instead, I settle back into Jowyck’s armchair. “What’s our next move?”
He turns, looking around the room and calling, “Lady Lilia.”
My brows furrow as I look at him in question.
He shrugs. “Thought we may want her opinion in this.”
Lilia looks up from polishing her armor and sets down the cloth to join us. Her eyes are tellingly red. Aleta and I aren’t the only ones who were separated from family today. After Lilia lost her family, Caden was one of the closest things she had left. He was—is that for many of us.
I do my best to exhale evenly. This has undone us all a bit. Caden helps us focus our efforts. Without him, we are a spinning top without a point of gravity, wobbling dangerously and threatening to fall at any moment.
“Bree wondered where we go from here,” Liam says when Lilia reaches us. “I have my thoughts, but supposed you may have some ideas as well.”
“I have one idea,” she says. Her voice positively burns with anger, and she tries to swallow it down but still her voice trembles with it when she speaks. “I think we go to the capital. Bring the fight to Langdon's doorstep at last.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Is that…is that wise?” I ask. It’s exactly what I’d thought, but I’m hardly a strategic mastermind. It’s why I’d wanted the others to give me their input. I flick a glance to Liam, who has sat himself down beside me, swinging his legs around the back of a chair. “You think we’re ready for that?”
“It’s wiser than resting on our laurels,” Lilia says.
Liam nods. “I thought the same.”
It seems we’re all of a like mind on the subject, then. I put a hand to my stomach to quell the anticipation rising there as Liam continues. “Everett will likely seek asylum with his lord and master. Left alone out here, he hasn’t been properly equipped to take hostages. He’s a skilled Shaker, but it doesn’t seem as though he’s of a military mind. And he’ll panic with a valuable hostage like Caden. He’ll need direction.”
Lilia nods, agreeing. “We’ll want to inquire with Elena as to—”
“Inquire with Elena about what?” We turn to see Elena standing behind us, and she twirls a sheepish finger beside her ear, circling a breeze toward it. “I’ve a bad habit of eavesdropping, I’m afraid,” she say apologetically.
Seeing the growing congregation of our comrades, Meddie, Aleta, and Master Izador set aside their drinks and make their way over to us to offer their input.
Lilia waits until they’ve joined us before nodding to Elena. “Liam and I have experience with Langdon’s military, but not precisely how he uses his Elementals. You spent time in the Adept ranks. We hoped you’d offer us counsel.”
Her blue eyes glitter coldly. “I agree with your presumption that Everett will retreat to Langdon. The king uses his Adepts however he can, lying to them if need be. Duke Ardin and Katerine are proof enough of that. A lone Adept like Everett won’t see any other course but to run back to Langdon for instruction.”
If the consensus is that Everett has gone to the capital, that sets our course well enough.
“If we truly intend to take the fight back to Langdon, the Nereids will be ready,” I say, straightening and attempting to sound regal—and confident. I look to Master Izador. “Right?” I ask. My voice wavers as I try to tamp out any uncertainty in my tone.
“We serve at the pleasure of Your Majesty and Kyrene,” he says.
I stop myself from looking for Caden—to see what his reaction to the mention of Kyrene. He isn’t here, and whatever concerns plagued Caden regarding Kyrene, it’s a certainty he has more pressing issues now.
Izador’s eyes are calm. He looks to me with a slight incline of his head and a matching one at the waist, a movement that I think is meant to be a bow. “If Her Majesty requires the Wielders to be ready, then they will be. You need only to command us.”
“I stand at the ready.”
I suck in a quick breath, turning at Aleta’s voice. Her tone is firm. No hint of a tremble. Her mouth is set, prepared to fight on the matter if need be.
“Aleta—” I start, but she interrupts, hand out to stop me from speaking.
“Breena, I truly think it imperative that we strike as soon as we are able. There is no time to gather further troops, and we’ve lost much of the credibility that Caden lent our effort when we lost him. I hope to save Egria and Nereidium, too. Truly, I do. But if we want a chance at saving Caden and Tregle—and Shaker Olivia, as well—then we must move and move now. I want to save them, too.”
I reel back, a little wounded. “And you think I don’t?”
“I think you’re having difficulty weighing your best options. But I believe acting as soon as possible is our best chance to save everything—everyone we want.” There is the most minute of shifts in her expression, and her eyes drift somewhere to my left, losing eye contact with me. “And if you won’t go with me, then I intend to forge on alone.”
“Aleta.” Something in my tone prompts her to make her eyes meet mine once more, and I manage a gentle smile. “Do you really think I’d let you do this alone? Of course I’m with you.”
Her mouth considers returning the expression, but it flickers and dies before reaching fruition. She clears her throat.
“To business, then. Now that we’ve lost…” Her throat works and she swallows after some difficulty. “Now that we’ve lost Tregle, we don’t have the guidance of his Locus abilities, but I think that Lady Lilia and Sir Liam's decision is still the most sage course we have open to us. Where else could Everett retreat in his hour of need, but the capital and his master?”
Liam stands up and folds his arms across his chest, settling back against the wall. “We’re all in agreement, then. But we’ll only have a single shot at this. We could use more men. We’ll send riders for the estates that supported Caden the last time around, hope they still have some soldiers left that they can spare to make this last stand. If they make it to us in time to help, it will be a boon. If not, we won’t have wasted our whole army’s time in asking.”
Meddie shoves Liam aside to claim her own space in the circle. “Clift and the Underground will help, too, so that will raise our numbers once we’re inside the city’s walls. He’ll get any of the able fighters in the capital who are willing—and trust me, there are plenty. Even some in the king’s guard who have been biding their time, waiting to strike.”
I search all of their faces. Each of them, determined in their own way, eyes resting on me, waiting for my verdict as we sit in my childhood town.
“Let us tally the numbers that we can expect. It’s wise to know what we’re dealing with,” I say. I swallow, heart pounding like a drum in my chest as I make the decision. “But one way or another, we bring the fight to Langdon. It’s long overdue.”
Twenty-Eight
Bree
We’ve no need to concern ourselves with bandits as we trek from Abeline to the capital to finally face Langdon. I’ve made this journey before, but this time, we travel on horseback and the trip is accomplished with a great deal more expediency.
Time stretches in a strange way, though, without Caden and Tregle with us. Sometimes the days seem longer; sometimes, shorter. It varies between a blur and flashes of Lilia’s feigned smirk, Meddie’s feral grin, the grim promise in Aleta’s eyes.
Almost before I can account for the time that’s passed, we cross the Makers’ Margin. The cold gives way
to heat, the forest yields to sand, and we stand at the edge of the Leeched Desert once again.
We stride onto the sandy sea, and it welcomes us back like an old friend. Or, perhaps, I think grimly as the sun beats down upon my exposed skin and my cracked lips, it would be more appropriate to think of the desert as an enemy, hiding its true intent. Like someone who smiles to your face and waits until you’re no longer paying attention to lift your coin.
Remembering past experiences here, struggling with the heat, I cling determinedly to my canteen, casting a look toward Master Izador. He and the other Wielders share the shadow of fatigue that I can feel hovering, a heavy press beneath my eyes.
I swipe my hand over the sweat, already leaking above my lips. Izador smiles and lifts his fingers toward the sky as if pinching something between them. The little dewdrops that sank into the fabric of my sleeve rise and circle themselves back into my canteen, free from the contaminations of my body.
“Smart,” I say. “Using the water cycle to our advantage.”
Izador turns toward the expanse of desert before us. ”You’ll learn.”
I lift my canteen in a silent salute. “I’m a quick study,” I say. I need to be, in environments like this. Especially after a few too many close calls, feeling the effects of dehydration preying on my need for a surplus of water.
“That,” Izador says, “is evident. You’ve come very far since you joined us in Nereidium, Your Majesty.”
I’m somewhat gratified to hear that. It makes me feel like perhaps we stand a chance when we get into the city. There, victory will be a prize to be grappled over between me and King Langdon. He’s already twisted Everett’s abilities to suit his means. We’re in for the fight of our lives.
“Forgot what a ruddy bitch this heat was,” Meddie says, coming up behind me. She unwraps the cloth she’s used to protect her skin from the sun and shakes it out into the dusky sand, then scowls as Liam tries and fails to hide a smirk. “Got something you want to say?” she asks him pointedly.
“You’ve…freckled,” Liam says, looking at the spots speckled over the spare spaces of Meddie’s skin that the sun’s managed to reach. The look on his face is fascinated.
“Don’t get excited,” she says. “They don’t trail anywhere too inventive.”
All of us choke, and Liam, I am delighted to see, colors an even deeper scarlet hue than the sun has already painted him.
“Something funny?”
Aleta’s voice cuts through the laughter like a knife, and my smile fades, taking the precious bit of normalcy I’d felt with it.
I scrutinize her for a clue as to what she’s thinking, but she is stone, positively impassive. Excepting her contributions to the conversation in Abeline, Aleta has been a shadow of herself since Tregle and Caden were taken. She’s all but silent through our travels, glowering into the campfire when we’ve stopped to make camp, as if she possesses Tregle’s abilities herself and can somehow glean their conditions. As though, if she simply glares hard enough, the flames will bend to her will.
“No,” I say quietly. “Nothing’s funny at all.”
A dry wind blows, scattering grains of sand across my feet and letting my skin breathe for an instant. There’s been nary a breeze to speak of, so I say, “Thanks,” to Elena without turning to look at her.
“Wasn’t a hardship,” she says. I hear her footsteps as she draws even with the rest of us, the soldiers busy behind us setting up camp.
“Any thoughts on making our way into the city?” That comes from Lady Lilia. Her eyes flick across each of us in question, a determined twist to her lips and a sort of grim promise in the way she cocks her hips, armor rattling as she settles her hands over them.
She refuses to remove it, never mind that she’s probably boiling inside.
“King Langdon’s associates have caught my people by surprise too many times too many,” she’d said when I’d tried to convince her. “Thank you, but no. I’ll remain battle-ready.”
She’d softened. Perhaps I’d looked a bit abashed, a bit stricken at the reminder of all that she’d lost. What we’ve both lost. “Your care is appreciated though, Your…Determinedness.” The same variation of nicknames she was always bestowing upon Caden. She’d tried to give me a smile before walking away, but merely succeeded in a quirk of her lips.
I’d swallowed down a lump in my throat.
Getting into the city… My thoughts return to the present. Of course I have thoughts, as Lilia had asked. Most of them are of the hopeless sort, though, so I think it would be bad for morale if I shared them.
“I had a thought,” Meddie says. Her eyes rove the horizon, where we can just begin to make out the shadows that we know make up the front gates, the cage that traps people inside the city so Langdon can keep a closer watch.
She continues, removing knives from unexpected crevices of her body to inspect their blades. She runs a finger over one’s edge, smirking with satisfaction. “We’re already making camp out here, which is good. We’re a fair distance from the city. Far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to spot us. You all stay put. No fires. At night, I’ll find my way inside and get to the Underground. Clift will help.”
Liam follows her gaze in the direction of the capital and frowns. “Should you be doing that alone?” he wonders aloud.
“Oh, do you know where an unguarded slip of wall is? Do you want to scale it?” She asks sweetly, but it’s laced with poison as she twirls her daggers.
Liam grins in response to the implicit threat.
“And then what, though?” I interrupt their flirting to rake my fingers through my hair, trying to be practical. “It’s all well and good if you get inside the city, but what good will that do in the long run? We can’t all scale the wall. A guard may not notice a single insect crawling by, but they’d have to be blind to miss a swarm.”
Meddie shrug. “I don’t know what to do after that,” she says honestly. “But Clift will.” It’s said with a confidence that I have to admire. I’m almost envious of the high esteem she holds Clift in. Meddie has faith in so little, but Clift? She has faith in him.
And I have to have faith in them both.
Twenty-Nine
Bree
The night comes quickly, and without the sun to warm it, the desert changes. I shudder with the cold, almost grateful that the bite of snow and the water that it would mean are nowhere to be found. I might do better, but the majority of our camp would be freezing, unable even to light a fire to warm themselves. Its light would make it too easy to see us.
Meddie gives us a cocky salute when night falls, hitches her pack high onto her back, and walks in the direction of the wall. The moon is a thin slice in the sky, lending little light. It isn’t long before we can no longer make out her form as she disappears into the desert’s embrace.
“We may as well settle in,” Elena says. We haven’t moved, haven’t so much as turned back toward our bedrolls. “It’ll be a while yet before she reaches the wall.”
“She’s not likely to return until tomorrow night at the earliest,” Lilia agrees. She jerks her head toward camp. “Shall we?”
“I think so.” Elena turns with her, and they drift in the direction the others turned.
I murmur some excuse as they leave, unable to tear my eyes from the wall. We’re one person short, yet again.
Liam shuffles his feet beside me. “I hate this,” he says.
“She can manage,” Aleta says.
“I know she can.” He grunts. “It’s just that—”
“She will,” I agree. But I turn to Liam, sling one arm around his shoulders and the other around Aleta’s, and lead them back to camp. “She’ll be fine. But that doesn’t mean we have to hate it any less.”
~~~
It’s impossible to sleep in any sort of restful manner. I toss and turn with worry over Meddie’s mission and Everett’s captives, branches like spears haunting my dreams. I drift off only to jerk awake.
I li
e, staring up at the stars, listening to the grunts and snores, to the feet of the soldiers on watch, shuffling across the sand. When the sun rises, the day drips by in dribs and drabs.
I practice with Izador and the other Wielders, thanking him with a nod for the clap on the back that I take as a sign of his praise. And I find Liam sitting in companionable silence with Aleta, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
“She may not even come back tonight, you know?”
“I know,” Liam says. He takes a swig from his flask of water and offers it to me, but I shake my head, holding up my own to signify that I’m well taken care of.
We stare forward into the night.
~~~
And, as we’d glumly guessed, Meddie doesn’t come back that night. Or the next.
Aleta grows twitchy, the inaction beginning to get to her. Tiny flames keep jumping to her fingertips, and she growls in frustration as she suppresses them.
We’re nearly to the point of having to pin Liam down to keep him from marching into the city to search for her when one of the lookouts reports seeing two shadows slinking toward camp. One, they report with wide eyes, is about the size of a bear.
“Clift,” I say. I shove to my feet, my steps quick as I head for the camp’s entrance. “And the other one has to be Meddie.”
Liam’s attention snaps to me, and he follows suit, hurrying to keep up with me. “How do you know?”
I shrug. “I’ve never heard another man described as a bear. It would be an awfully big coincidence if one showed up now.”
With that assurance, it’s no longer a struggle for Liam to keep up with me. His long legs easily lope past, and when I’ve made it to the edge of camp, Liam has already lifted Meddie into a tight embrace, her expression surprised, the tips of her toes barely grazing the ground. Aleta watches them with a poorly disguised look of envy on her features.
Fall of Thrones and Thorns Page 16
