My chest ached and the tears welled. I sniffed, scrubbed at the wetness with my sleeve. Father would be so disappointed in me. When he’d told me about Mother, he’d held me in his arms and let me sob until my tears had finally run dry. Then he’d set me apart from him and looked into my eyes, and he’d told me I had to be strong now. We both had to be strong. The past couldn’t be undone and we had to keep living, for Mother. It’s what she would have wanted.
I’d nodded solemnly and I’d promised, no more crying.
I’d lied.
A hissed curse came from down the path, freezing me to the spot. I held my breath, listening to the crumble of rocks. A yelp of pain. Another curse. Silence.
I should turn back, but there was a vague sense of familiarity that drew me forward with tentative steps, listening hard, and then I heard the strained breaths right below me. I dropped to my knees and flattened onto my stomach so I could peer over the edge. My gaze landed on a pair of stone grey eyes, right there! My head jerked back. A scream rose up my throat and I bit it back just in time, the shock quelled just in time for me to recognise the boy dangling below as Nate.
He looked up at me, panting from the exertion of hanging on for his life. Literally by his fingertips. He said nothing, his face contorted as he used every ounce of strength to hold on. My heart knocked wildly as I wriggled over a little more. I could reach him with my outstretched arms, easily, but I was a scrawny child and there was no way I could take his weight or hope to pull him up.
I glanced over my shoulder, up against the sheer cliff. There was some vegetation growing out from the side, even a slanted half-tree that seemed fused to the rock, but nothing I could use. I snapped my head forward again, over the edge and searched the rock face, desperate to find something that could help. A thick root looping from the chalky rock caught my attention. Maybe…
I reached back for the dagger strapped to my hip and brought it forward, almost lost it my fingers trembled so violently. I hadn’t realized until then how scared I was. Scared for Nate. I tightened my hold on the hilt and spared a moment to give Nate a reassuring look, and everything inside me went very still. His eyes were on my blade and they had the wide, glazed look of a trapped animal. The look of a boy who thought I was about to use the blade to cut him down.
Some of my father’s words from last night came to me.
“Rose, listen to me, Nathanial is no longer your friend. He is a King now, and he will stop at nothing to avenge his father’s death. Do you understand? If you ever come across him in the valley, you must run and hide. Do not let him take you. He will slit your throat just to make me suffer.”
I stared at Nate, so familiar with his angular face and long black hair, so much of a stranger suddenly. He was still the boy who’d taken me up on his horse before I was old enough to sit my own saddle. He’d carved my first wooden sword himself and taught me how to wield it. But he was also a boy who thought I’d use this dagger on him, who actually believed me capable of that.
A lump formed in my throat as I sawed close to the end of the root. One by one, I was losing everyone I loved, even those who still lived and breathed. The root came loose and I gave it a strong tug to ensure the end was firmly secured, then I let the length fall to Nate’s reach.
He grabbed the root with one hand, the other still gripped to the narrow outcrop, spreading his weight between the two. When his gaze met mine, the terror was gone, replaced with something else, confusion maybe.
A shuffled noise came to my left.
“That will be my men,” Nate rasped. “They were climbing up farther down the ravine. You have to go.”
I whipped my head that way, couldn’t see much more than a couple of yards before the path disappeared around a bend. But I could still hear them, boots crunching on packed dirt… My eyes shot to Nate, my turn to be confused. He hadn’t slipped and fallen over the edge. He’d been climbing up the sheer cliff. With his men.
“Rose,” he hissed urgently. “You have to go. Now!”
I slid backward, scrambled to my feet and hurried back the way I’d come, my legs shaky, my head sore. Nate meant to attack us from this side of the mountain. I had to warn Father. The narrowing of the path slowed me. I flattened myself against the cliff face as I shuffled and then it struck me. This path would force Nate and his men into single file. Our archers would pick them off one by one as they came out the other side and I knew Nate, he would lead the charge. He always had, in the many pranks we’d played.
It felt as if my heart was being split apart, with Nate on one side and my father on the other. Maybe I didn’t have to say anything. Maybe I could pretend I hadn’t seen anything.
The sound of steel clashing grew louder and louder and as the walkway opened up and I could rush forward again, I saw the battle had escalated. It looked like a dozen or more of the King’s men had swarmed us and some had made it past the flight of arrows. My father was there in the thick of it, the blur of men slashing and blocking and stabbing. A moment later, it was all over, the ground littered with bodies, most wearing the King’s colours of black and wine-red but at least two of our men that I could see.
Trembles shook my bones. I should have stayed deep in the cave.
“Rose!” my father shouted, running up to me. “You shouldn’t be here, child.”
I had to decide. To tell or to hold my tongue. My gaze lowered from Father’s thickly burrowed brow and froze on the bloodied slash across his upper arm. He was all I really had left in this world. I couldn’t lose him.
“Father,” I choked out. “Nate. More men.” I pointed in that direction. “They’re coming from that side.”
“Are you sure?”
“I saw them.” I nodded hard. “I slipped around—”
“I have a man stationed there to keep watch.” Father glanced that way, then tilted his head, looking up at the bushes above the ridge. “How did he not see you? Dammit all, there must be a blind spot.”
I fell back as Father called more men to scale the ridge to the lookout and positioned an archer at the head of the walkway. I fell back, tried to make myself as small as possible so I’d be forgotten and not be sent back into the cave. It didn’t work, Father noticed everything, but he didn’t send me back.
He ruffled the top of my head and gave me a grim smile. “Don’t get in the way, okay? And for God’s sake, get yourself to safety if any of the King’s men break our line of defence again.”
I hunkered close to the rock wall, my heart in my throat as I watched and waited for Nate to lead the way via the walkway. The sun began to set, the army below finally retreated, and Nate never came. A small smile formed inside me as I wondered if I’d saved Nate’s life twice in one day. He must have known I’d say something to my father about the attempted assault from the other side. Thank goodness he’d turned back, because if he’d tried to sneak through with his men, they would all be dead.
I jerked awake, tangled in sheets and bathed in the cold sweat of gut-wrenching regret. I hadn’t saved Nathanial’s life. That much I’d figured out a long time ago. His men would have found him before his strength gave out.
But I had spared him.
I should have sliced through his fingers, let him fall to his death. Instead I’d been an ignorant fool and that was something I had to live with.
Chills prickled my skin. Regret was a useless emotion, but still that nightmare had the power to tear through me and break me down. Every damn time.
I threw the covers off and swung my feet to the rough mat, feeling my way through the blackness to the lantern on the side table. I was accustomed to the dark, we all were, could navigate these caves like the moles we’d been made into.
My fingers found the thin metal base, twisted the knob to strike the flint and the dim, yellow glow flickered shadowed light across my small bedroom chamber. I dressed quickly, buckskin pants, cotton shirt, tanned leather boots laced up to my knees. Brushed my hair and scraped it back into a ponytail. Scrubbed my tee
th with the small block of mint paste.
I barely thought about the daily ritual as I went through the motions, until I scooped my hands into the nearly empty bowl of stale water to splash my face. The same water I’d used to wash myself down for the last three days.
Our situation was growing desperate. If it didn’t rain soon, we’d be in real trouble. The kind of trouble that usually ended in blood-spill.
The blackness lifted in shades as I made my way along the maze of dark passages toward the main cavern, the lantern oil extracted from animal fat too precious to waste. Silence, except for the dull echo of my booted footfalls. The mountain was still fast asleep.
Tension gripped my shoulders as I stepped outside into the crisp break of dawn. The sky was a clear grey, not a cloud in sight. No breeze to bring a change.
I sensed a presence, turned, and the edge shaved off my mood when my eyes lit on Markus emerging from the cave. The few days growth of beard looked good on him. Then again, he could probably swim through a sewer and come up looking good.
He saw me, a slow grin tugging at his mouth as he kept coming, and tossed a red apple at me. “Breakfast.”
I had to jump to snatch it out of the air.
“You’re such a romantic,” I snorted.
He chuckled. “I’ve had no complaints yet.”
My gaze raked over him with mocking exaggeration. “I’ll just bet you haven’t.”
“Speaking of which—”
“I don’t want to hear about your many conquests,” I cut in with an eye-roll and took off down the path. “Walk with me.”
The words were out my mouth before I gave it any thought. Not an order. Not a suggestion either.
And now I wondered how—if— this could work, him and me.
Markus didn’t take crap from anyone, including me, and he was too confident to have any problem deferring to me as High Chancellor. But he wouldn’t be amused if I automatically assumed control as his wife. I’d have to juggle two hats, one for private wear and one for public. And there’d be times like now, when the lines were blurred. Early morning banter combined with the purpose of duty
Ask me again in a year, if you really can’t find anyone else to take you off my hands.
Markus was too in tune with camp politics to expect Lennard and Jarvis to wait that long for me to provide them with an heir, hence that remark could not have been made in any seriousness.
Yet, I contemplated the proposal, such as it was.
Markus was the only man here I felt comfortable enough with, inside my heart and out, to consider as husband, as father to my future child.
I had no wish to marry, not in the foreseeable future, not like this. But my life had never been mine to live as I wished.
With great power comes great responsibility. Another of my father’s favourite teachings. I’d never seen much of that power, but I knew all about the responsibility. And the last time I’d made an important decision based on a selfish whim, well, look how that had turned out. I’d chosen to let Nathanial live.
Markus fell in beside me easily, matching his long-limbed stride to mine. “What’s on your mind?”
I bit into the apple so I wouldn’t have to talk, offered him a shrug.
The path opened up again into a grassy stretch that ended at the craggy headlands where the river split through the mountain range.
I glanced down the sheer drop to my left as we walked, to the mushy silt and deeply–pocked bed of the river’s trail. The river usually raged below like a whirlwind inferno, churning up itself and everything else. It was the reason this side of the mountain had always been impregnable. Impossible to keep a boat steady for the time it would take to throw up an anchoring rope to scale the cliff.
Not anymore, obviously, but any intruders would still have to squeeze around the east ridge one by one, easy enough to be picked off.
Markus strode past me, to the row of barrels we used to haul water up from the river on a pulley system. The crudely crafted pulley extended all the way up to the plateau, since it was easier to lug the barrels across the top when needed instead of around the narrow of the east ridge. My gaze drifted up with my thoughts, and that’s when it hit me.
“The King’s dam isn’t meant to flush us out,” I called out. “He’s planning to attack the mountain.”
“That would be a bloodbath,” Markus said.
I sent him a look, then jerked my gaze up. “We’ve only ever had to defend the front of the mountain. From the men climbing up the face and around the ridges.”
He immediately saw what I’d just seen. “Dammit.”
I nodded. “Only a crazy idiot with a death wish would attempt to cross the peaks on the west ridge—”
“—but there’s nothing to stop them on this side,” Markus finished. “They can get over the top and spread out across the plateau. We need to extend the watch patrol up there.”
I looked around. The path we stood on now was too exposed. We’d have to defend from the plateau edge, plenty of scrub bush and rocky outcrops up there to take cover behind. We’d still have the advantage of the high ground and cover, but not the numbers. We had thirty fighting men who’d now have to be divided onto two fronts.
I brought my gaze back to Markus. “If the King launched a full-scale attack, he’d take a high count of casualties, but eventually he’d overrun us. Victory would almost certainly be his.”
Markus scrubbed his jaw, his brow pulled tight. “You honestly think he’d sacrifice that many of his soldiers?”
“I don’t know,” I dragged out through my teeth. “But we’ve been distracted, right? The river stops, water is our most pressing need and it’s obvious, right there in our face. Maybe that’s what he’s betting on, that it takes us a while to get around to the realisation that our defence isn’t quite as rock-solid as always.”
Markus didn’t seem convinced. “Then what is he waiting for? It’s been three days since the river ran dry.”
I valued his opinion too much to beat around the bush. “Are you playing devil’s advocate or do you think I’m overreacting?”
“I’m hoping to God you’re wrong,” he said with a grim smile, “but you seldom are.”
“Okay,” I breathed out, turning from him, sweeping my gaze over the valley. “I ride tonight, bring down the dam.”
He rounded on me with a scowl. “You mean ‘we’ ride tonight.”
“Markus, no.” I shook my head. “The King could attack at any moment and I need my right hand here to defend the mountain.”
“My top priority is protecting you.”
“I’m every bit as good a swordsman as you,” I reminded him. Where I lacked his muscled power, I made up in grace and fluidity. “I’ll be taking six men with me, and that leaves the mountain more vulnerable than ever.”
“We don’t know when or if the King will attack, but tonight is a certainty,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you ride into battle without me.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Rose—”
“That’s an order.” I folded my arms, tipped my chin up to meet his scowling gaze straight on.
His face blanked, a granite mask that betrayed all it meant to hide. Without another word, he spun about and marched off, spine rigid, fury leashed in those measured strides.
I released my breath in a shallow sigh as I watched Markus go. He knew I was right, and he would come around.
Still, commanding any man or woman against their will sat uncomfortable on my shoulders. As did everything about our current situation.
We’d done reconnaissance these last three days. That first day, the labourers had tinkered with finishing touches and broken up camp. Only one tent remained for the four King’s men stationed at the dam. I would have preferred to wait a few more days, to make sure of the lay of the land, for the guards to grow complacent, but I felt this in my bones. Ready or not, we had to strike.
And then what?
I couldn’t help wondering if t
his would be our last stand, one final act of defiance. We couldn’t defeat the King’s army on low ground and we wouldn’t get the element of surprise again, not without the luxury of holding out for weeks, months, between strikes. And the next time Nathanial bled the river dry, he likely wouldn’t waste time before he bled his mountain dry of rebel blood.
- 5 -
The moon was waxing, nearly three-quarter in a cloudless night sky, casting a silvery glow that danced with the shadows. This afternoon’s breeze had picked up, gusting through the pine boughs with the makings of a summer squall. Woodlands packed up against the dry riverbed, giving us good coverage as we crept like thieves in the night without words, only exchanged looks and hand signals.
We’d left our horses tied up about a half mile back. Except for the pair that Lilliana held onto with a short rein just inside the treeline, waiting for my signal. We needed their brute strength to help us tear down the dam wall and I wanted Lilliana watching our backs. She was decent with a sword, but outstanding with the bow strung over her shoulder.
We were almost upon the camp before the voices reached us. The brewing tempest that masked our presence was as much of an advantage to our enemies.
My hand shot into the air to halt our party as I glanced at Gavin flanking my right. He was a flame-bearded giant of a man in his forties who’d started his training in the King’s service at puberty. He held up a finger, indicating for us to hold our position for a moment.
The air was thick with the threat of rain and the lingering heat of the day. The density packed around us had its own presence, the forest a live, breathing entity, and the eyes I felt on me—all around us—could be man, night animal or healthy paranoia.
My skin crawled, my attention sharpened, the hairs on my nape bristled as I listened for sounds that did not belong, scanned the moonlit forest floor for foreign shadows. All I sensed was the wildness, the fresh, dewy scent of pine and the charged air of the approaching storm. And the King’s men stationed upwind, exactly where we’d expected them.
Gavin inclined his head toward me. He’d neither heard nor seen anything unexpected, either.
The Traitor's Daughter Page 3
