The Forsaken Crown (The Desolate Empire Book 0)

by Christina Ochs

  Even though he saw little point, he’d had his servant Arvus run a razor along his jaw. Kendryk’s face was still as smooth and fine-featured as a girl’s. In fact, because of that and his big blue eyes with their long lashes, some of his fellow students in Isenwald had teased that he made a very pretty young maiden.

  Kendryk shook his head.

  “Is something wrong, Your Grace?” Arvus asked, rushing to his side.

  Kendryk stared at his image in the long mirror. “I need new clothes.” He surveyed his plain, though finely cut brown doublet and the tan breeches. “I need things that a prince would wear.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Arvus smiled. He loved dressing Kendryk up. “Shall I have the Runewald tailor pay a visit?”

  “No, I need someone more sophisticated. I’ve heard there’s a new tailor in Heidenhof.” Heidenhof was one of Terragand’s largest cities, and its cultural center.

  “I believe there is,” Arvus said. “I’ll send for him immediately.”

  “In a few days. There’s work I have to finish first.” Kendryk had waited to act until he knew Duke Desmond would be busy elsewhere. The duke had business interests in the northern port city of Kaltental, a considerable distance away. Whenever he went there, he would be gone for at least a week.

  Most of the time he sent Kendryk’s uncle to handle business matters, but Evard Bernotas was in Zeelund, doing something financial with the bankers there. Evard was also a regent, but he never seemed to spend any time in Terragand because Desmond kept him occupied with tasks requiring a lot of travel.

  Kendryk didn’t mind, since his uncle always looked down his nose at Kendryk in a disapproving way, nearly as bad as Desmond. He couldn’t wait to be rid of all these adults telling him what to do.

  Kendryk assembled as many addresses as he could find for the names on his list. It wasn’t easy, since he didn’t feel safe asking anyone besides Baron Oberdorf for information. He needed to get those letters written and sent before the duke returned, then he might take time for a tailor.

  Baron Oberdorf had given him a list of eighteen names, nearly all of them Terragand nobility. He’d indicated the last known location of a few of them, and Kendryk started with those. The next group were those with no locations, but Kendryk knew how to reach their families. The rest he’d have to investigate further.

  Though he missed his books, Kendryk realized he was enjoying himself. Perhaps it really was time he took on the work of the kingdom. The sooner folk realized he was contributing, the sooner they’d stop looking at him like a little boy and realize their prince was a ruler to be reckoned with.

  Kendryk paused before dipping his quill in the inkpot. Perhaps that was all it would take for Duke Desmond treat him with more respect. So far, to be honest, Kendryk hadn’t done anything worthy of it.

  When the duke first suggested university, Kendryk had happily agreed. He enjoyed learning, and it seemed a fitting way to spend the years until he came of age. Now he wondered if that course had been a mistake. He’d spent nearly half his life outside Terragand; no wonder no one trusted or respected him as anything other than his father’s heir. He needed to make his own mark.

  Kendryk wrote letters until his hand cramped and his quill scraped the bottom of the inkpot. He might have found a secretary to do this work, but couldn’t think of anyone he’d trust to write all of these and not tell the duke. Maybe he should get someone loyal only to him.

  He called a servant to bring a fresh inkpot, then got out of his chair and wandered to the window while flexing his fingers. It had stopped raining, and sun flooded the garden with its vast flowerbeds, all sculpted in elaborate patterns. For autumn, the gardeners had planted golds and reds, and the sun brightened them even further.

  Kendryk told himself he could take a walk when he’d finished. As to his cramped, ink-stained fingers, the next letter he’d write today would be to a fellow Isenwald University student.

  Georg Kasler had just finished his studies and would likely need a position. He was the only commoner among Kendryk’s friends. His village priestess had spotted Georg’s talent as a boy and prevailed upon the temple to fund his education. Unlike most of the other students, he’d need to earn a living. Kendryk liked the idea of working closely with a friend, and that gave him the energy to write faster.

  The last letter from the list he addressed to a Count Ruso Faris serving in the Sanovan army on the Briansk border. Most of the other people Kendryk had written to were further south, in Cesiano, enduring one of its occasional paroxysms as the various city-states engaged in violent squabbles. But Sanova was next door to Terragand, and Kendryk hoped Faris would receive his letter sooner than the rest.

  That done, he called for his hired messenger—a girl who usually worked for the Heidenhof blacksmith’s guild, someone Desmond was sure not to know—and gave her the packet of letters. Once he saw the way she and her horse tore into the palace courtyard, he said, “If you deliver the one to Count Faris yourself, I’ll pay you twice the full rate. Put the others on the next merchant convoy going south.” Her horse was a splendid creature, so she’d no doubt already made considerable coin on special missions like this one.

  “Certainly, Your Grace,” the girl said, then tossed a black braid over her shoulder, regarding Kendryk with a bold, flirtatious grin. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, that’ll be all,” Kendryk said, feeling a twinge of regret. The girl looked like fun. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time for fun, and even more importantly, he didn’t want the duke thinking he was having any.

  Marjatya

  There was a festive air as Count Faris’s army made camp. Meeting up with a friendly force was always an event, especially on a dull march like this one. The higher-ups would feast, while everyone else made new friends and hopefully got drunk. Sonya pushed her foreboding aside at least for a while, and planned to go in search of fun.

  As it turned out, fun came looking for her. She’d just finished washing up and brushing the dust from her clothes when a page poked his head into her tent.

  “Message for you, Lieutenant.” He shoved a piece of paper into her hand and disappeared.

  Sonya opened it, a smile spreading across her face as she read. The only words were “Dinner?” written in a flowery scrawl, followed by “I’ll find you,” with the initials “A.D.” at the bottom.

  Sonya couldn’t remember the last time she’d socialized with a man who wasn’t under her command. Even though his hat was a bit much, she’d liked the look of Captain Danko. Not the most handsome fellow, but that didn’t matter to her. He’d been friendly in an awkward situation, and all throughout his eyes had been merry.

  Now Sonya scrambled out of her everyday doublet, and dug in her trunk for something more festive. She hadn’t owned a dress since leaving home, though she’d picked up a nice doublet while on leave in the Sanovan capital of Novuk. Since she never wore it, it was buried at the bottom of her trunk and looking rather creased.

  Still, it was pretty enough. A heavy chocolate brown velvet with bright gold buttons and trim, it set off her dark eyes and olive skin rather well. She already wore mostly clean tan breeches, so didn’t need to change those, and her boots had been polished in the past few days.

  Sonya wished for a mirror, but after shaking the doublet out and putting it on, she smoothed out the wrinkles and reckoned she didn’t look too bad. Her cheeks were warm, but that was likely from all of the scrambling around.

  She stepped outside her tent to cool off, and the biting wind did it quickly enough. And then she saw him striding between the tents, torchlight catching his smile.

  “You’ll want your coat,” he said. “We have to walk a small distance.”

  Sonya stepped back into her tent to grab her coat, thankful he didn’t follow, since the contents of her trunk were strewn all over.

  She rejoined him. “Where are we going?”

  “My superior officer is hosting a little supper in his tent.
He told us all to make a new friend and bring them.”

  “I’m glad you thought of me.” Sonya tucked her hands into her pockets and smiled at Captain Danko, matching his stride as they crossed the road to the Olvisyan camp.

  “I’ve thought of nothing else since we met,” Danko said. “I’ve never seen anyone appear so striking in military garb. The Orician getup suits you well.”

  “Kind of you to say so.” Sonya grinned. She didn’t believe a word, but it was still nice to hear.

  She looked at Captain Danko out of the corner of her eye. He was about her height, though the hat made him seem taller, and he moved with an easy swagger. Nobility most like, and too good for her, but she’d enjoy his company while it lasted.

  The Olvisyan camp was noticeably smaller than Faris’s.

  “How many have you brought?” Sonya asked, looking around.

  “An undersized regiment of horse, and some irregulars.” Danko shook his head. “I don’t much like them, but we don’t see them all too often.”

  Sonya wanted to ask him about the woman with the awful eyes, but didn’t care to ruin the moment. She was feeling relaxed and happy, unusual for the past few days.

  Captain Danko led her to a large tent in the middle of camp and introduced his superior, a cavalry major with a long name and enormous mustaches.

  Sonya recognized a few other Orician officers of her acquaintance, pleased to see she was the lowest-ranking person here. It never hurt to rub shoulders with your betters now and again.

  A dozen guests sat at the long table, and the major had provided a fine feast on short notice. Servants poured dark red wine into fine crystal. Sonya wasn’t used to red wine, having been brought up on the Terragand whites, and found her first glass rather strong and somewhat bitter.

  “It goes well with the roast boar, doesn’t it?” Captain Danko asked as he motioned someone over to refill her glass.

  “I suppose it does.” Sonya smiled. “I’m not used to it, but it’s all right.” Most of all, she liked how it made her feel.

  The conversation revolved around the upcoming end to the truce between Zastwar and the empire. Everyone here seemed certain the emperor would need tens of thousands of troops on the border soon.

  After a time, conversation turned to the local rebellion. Someone mentioned the archduchess’s raiders.

  “Can’t say I care for that lot and the way they do things,” the major said. “I won’t question Her Grace, of course, and I’m sure she knows best. Still, don’t like it.” Then he called for another round of wine and asked about the recent campaign in Sanova.

  Sonya and the other Orician officers all shared their anecdotes, and a sympathetic groan went up when she told the story of Kolnikov’s capture and almost immediate release.

  By the time she was ready to leave, she was rather dizzy.

  “I’m not sure I can make it back to my tent, Andrei,” she whispered to Captain Danko. At some point she had started calling him by his first name, though she couldn’t remember how that had come about.

  “I don’t want you to make it back to your tent,” he whispered a little too loudly, and the rest of the table erupted in laughter.

  Too drunk to be embarrassed, Sonya pushed thoughts of the next morning out of her mind. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. She stood up shakily, offering Andrei her arm.

  He was no better off, and they leaned on each other for the few steps it took to get to his tent.

  It was warm inside. Someone had lit a lamp and a little fire crackled in the brazier.

  “You’re sho nishe, and pretty.” Andrei planted a sloppy kiss on Sonya’s lips as he struggled to unbutton her coat.

  “Sho’re you.” Sonya took over the buttons with no more success. The kiss wasn’t the best she’d ever had, but it was a start.

  Andrei sat down on the cot to pull off his boots.

  Sonya struggled with the large buttons on her coat. Finally getting it off, she started on her doublet. But by the time she sat on a nearby chair to pull her boots off, a rattle came from the cot.

  Andrei had fallen across it sideways, sound asleep, his head hanging off the far end.

  “Just my luck,” Sonya grumbled, collapsing onto the cot next to him.

  Birkenhof Palace

  Once Kendryk sent off the first round of letters, the days dragged. He sent another batch to the prominent Terragand families he knew, asking them to forward his message to officers abroad. He expected that to take forever. The other names he wasn’t able to track down on his own.

  It was just as well, since Duke Desmond returned from Kaltental earlier than anticipated. When he walked into the study, Kendryk was studying treasury ledgers, though he understood little of the endless rows of cramped figures.

  “You needn’t do that,” the duke said without so much as a hello, or a Your Grace, for that matter. “Count Wirtenberg handles all financial matters most competently.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Kendryk closed the ledger. “It still helps me to understand what’s going on.”

  “If you insist.” Desmond shrugged. “Though I wish you’d spend more time with my son. It’s no good for a boy your age to be hunched over ledgers all day. You should go hunting with him, get some color in your cheeks.”

  “I’m not most boys,” Kendryk said, doing his best to stay calm and dignified. “I have responsibilities.”

  “Not yet.” The duke’s voice held an angry edge. “Not until you’re seventeen.”

  “Which is not far away.” Kendryk sucked in his upper lip and bit down on it. He knew Desmond was trying to goad him so he could tell everyone what an immature baby Kendryk was. “I want to be prepared.”

  “I’ll still be there to help you,” the duke said. “In fact, I’ll insist on it. Seventeen is still young and you’ll need adult guidance.”

  “Seventeen is adult.” Kendryk stood. He felt his lack of height sorely at moments like this, with Desmond towering over him. “And I will learn a great deal by then. I’ll ask your advice when I need it.”

  “I doubt that,” the duke grumbled, “since you’re not taking it now.”

  A flush crept up Kendryk’s neck and his heart beat faster. He seldom lost his temper, but with Desmond he wanted to, badly. “You’re in charge now,” he said, his tone a little angrier than he wanted it. “You can do as you please.”

  “I’m glad we have that straight.” The duke turned toward the door. “I have much to do today, so I’d rather be left alone.” In other words, he didn’t want Kendryk hanging around and asking questions.

  “Certainly.” Kendryk had other things to do too. “But be sure to include me at the next council meeting.” By then he hoped to have at least a few responses to the letters he’d sent.

  “Mmm,” the duke said as he left the room.

  It took Kendryk some time to calm himself. The almost two years until his seventeenth birthday seemed too far away. He might learn much in that time, but books would only take him so far. He needed practical experience and it appeared Desmond wouldn’t allow that without a fight.

  Well, maybe Kendryk should put up a fight, for once in his life. He was used to always being good, doing as he was told. But he was the real ruler of Terragand; the regent was just there to help him.

  Kendryk decided he needed to win over the rest of his council. He could rely on Baron Oberdorf, and hoped the old man would convince the others to let Kendryk take part once his letter-writing brought results. That would show them he was capable of making important decisions and managing on his own.

  It hadn’t been long enough, but Kendryk decided to go to Heidenhof to see if there’d been any replies. He’d arranged for the smith’s guild to hold any letters for him delivered by their messengers. Even if nothing was there, it would give him something to do besides stew over Desmond’s stubbornness.

  He sent for a servant and ordered his horse saddled, then put the ledgers in an orderly pile on the table. He’d tackle them aga
in tomorrow. Kendryk hurried down the main corridor, calling to the footman for his cloak and hat. Though the weather had improved it was still chilly.

  When he reached the door, the footman stood empty-handed and shame-faced. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he whispered, hanging his head.

  “Is there a problem?” Kendryk looked around. Had someone misplaced his things?

  “Yes, there is.” Desmond’s voice came from behind him. “I think it best you don’t leave the palace until we’ve straightened out a few matters.”

  “You can’t keep me from leaving.” Kendryk’s jaw was so tight he could hardly move his mouth. “Now bring my cloak,” he snapped at the footman.

  “No,” the duke said. “I’ve found out you’re corresponding with foreign militaries without my consent. That is tantamount to treason.”

  Kendryk tried to think who might have betrayed him. It must have been Baron Oberdorf. “As Prince of Terragand, I may correspond with anyone I choose. And these are Terragand citizens.”

  “Serving foreign powers.” The duke nodded at two guards who’d come up next to Kendryk. He didn’t recognize either one of them. “Take the prince to his room and see he stays there.”

  “You can’t do this,” Kendryk shouted, losing his temper. Not that it mattered now.

  “I can.” Desmond’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m in charge and no one will stop me. Until you’ve learned to behave, you’re confined to your quarters.” And then he turned on his heel, leaving Kendryk struggling hopelessly against the burly guards.

  Marjatya

  Sonya awakened to a bright beam of sunlight, which had found a tiny crack in the tent’s canvas so it could target her eyes directly. She lifted her head, but it pounded too hard, so she let it fall back against the small pillow while she got her bearings. Once she recalled her location, she smiled.

  She struggled to sit up in spite of the pain. She couldn’t remember every detail of the prior evening, except that she’d had fun. Judging by the fact she was still fully clothed, she hadn’t had as much as she would have liked. But with any luck, they’d spend another day here, and perhaps she and Andrei could finish what they’d started.