There were no easy answers for her or for any of the situations she found herself trapped in. That was no longer an excuse for her to not make a choice. Here and now, she could choose a path with the prince. Despite her misgivings about her growing feelings for Alexander, if she let them blossom, they would only add to the authenticity of her role as his wife. Nothing speaks the truth like genuine feelings. Perhaps she shouldn’t have discounted her budding affection for him so readily. Perhaps the answer to her dilemma was to yield to her heart and embrace her desire. Determined, she opened the door and stepped out of the changing room.
The prince waited for her near the basket that would take them down to the landing below. He was chatting leisurely with Scaja. When she drew close enough to attract their attention, both men stopped talking to watch her approach.
Alexander’s hazel eyes looked her up and down in appreciation. “You look stunning, my dear. Everything in order?”
Sacha nodded. “Yes, my prince. All is in order.”
“Excellent,” Alexander said as he opened the birdwing door. “Shall we go?”
Sacha took his offered hand and stepped into the lift.
Alexander followed and sat across from her. The now-familiar bells in the aviary sounded, with the faint echoes coming from below, and the lift lurched slightly into motion. When the basket had begun the long descent and the trapdoors above had swung closed, the prince looked wistful. “I wish we had more time. I would spend the day with you if I could.”
“That is kind of you, my prince,” Sacha replied. “You have council today, I understand.” She leaned toward him and met his gaze boldly. For the first time, she noticed how many veins of rich brown and even hints of blue mingled with his predominantly green eyes. They were lovely, actually. “Your meeting is about the Wildmen, I assume?”
“Yes, always, it seems of late.”
“Have you heard from my father?” Sacha’s dialogue with her parents since she had assumed Sloane’s place had been minimal. Only a handful of missives from her mother had come, and those were filled with the mundane reports of daily life. Areece had hoped she could arrange a time to come visit Sloane and the cousins, but of Sacha and her continued status of “missing,” Areece had made no comment.
Sacha found herself a little wounded by the omission, though she supposed she should have expected it on some level. In the nearly two and a half years that she had been exiled to the Monastery, Sacha had only heard from her mother a handful of times. From her father, never. She knew that her fall from grace with Renee had wounded her mother deeply. Even if it had not, Hathorn would still frown on any outpouring of sympathy or emotion for his sullied daughter. In Pelos, it was the duty of the fallen to rise again on their own merit if the kingdom was to persevere. The surprise, if indeed there was one, was that Hathorn had not declared war on Basinia over the loss of his daughter. The fact that he had not sought redress spoke volumes.
Hathorn would have been well within his rights to declare the treaty void and hold Prince Alexander responsible. Not only that, but her father’s reputation was such that there must be a sense of foreboding in both the human capitals while they waited for the mountainous king’s notable temper to boil over. His hesitation to press the matter showed anyone with a set of eyes that Hathorn understood that he needed allies, not enemies. Cruel he might be, but a fool he was not.
The corner of Alexander’s mouth twitched slightly before he spoke. “I have. He is not willing to commit troops beyond his borders at this time and has requested that we do not cross Pelos’s in return, but he assures us that if war comes to Basinia, he will lend us aid.”
“Well that sounds reassuring. What does he think the Wildmen are doing? Borrowing sugar?” Sacha blurted, sardonically. The flippant words were out so quickly that she had no opportunity to bite them back. She knew that was not something Sloane would typically say or the way she would say it, but when it came to Hathorn, some habits died harder than others.
Far from being taken aback, the prince chuckled and seemed to grow more relaxed. “I was actually thinking the same thing.”
Sacha was relieved to find more shared ground with Alexander, even if it related to feelings of irritation with her father. She needed common ground with this man if her plans to save her daughter were ever to see fruition. More than the need, however, she wanted that common ground. Before she could overthink the ramifications, Sacha said, “I’ve been thinking on this Wildmen dilemma.”
“Oh?” Alexander tilted his head and spread his arms across the back of the bench. “Let’s hear it.”
“I was pondering why they are causing us so much trouble.” Sacha cleared her throat. “Simply put, they are too spread out for our forces to effectively engage in combat.” She glanced at Alexander. “Which you already know, of course.”
He nodded but remained silent.
“The Rohdaekhann have been detrimental to the Wildmen, I’m sure, but to confront them meaningfully, you still have to use the army. Spreading our forces to find and confront each band of Wildmen would weaken our defenses too much, especially if the hobgoblin horde continues to push farther north and cross our borders.”
“You’ve struck the heart of the matter, my dear,” Alexander proclaimed.
Sacha smiled, and it was heartfelt. Alexander seemed to be actually listening and considering her words. Emboldened by this reception, she found herself more confident in revealing her proposition. A solution. The only solution she could come up with that might have any chance at success. Without further hesitation, she said, “Why don’t you offer them sanctuary? Give them homes in exchange for their obedience and assistance in battling the impending horde’s attack.”
Alexander’s brows rose, but the tone of his voice when he responded was serious, not incredulous. “Sanctuary? You might find this unbelievable, but I actually have considered the option.” He scratched his chin in thought. “There are a number of concerns I have, not the least of which is I cannot be certain that the Wildmen would take the offer. And of course, as you’ve noted, they are ridiculously spread across the whole of our country, it seems. How can we make an offer to enough of them to substantially change our situation?”
Sacha was encouraged. Alexander did not appear to be asking the question rhetorically as one might when disregarding an argument. She glanced in the direction of Pelos as she picked her next words. “As I’m certain you will recall, I’m descended from a nomadic people. If our past is any indication of how tribal societies work today, then although the Wildmen might seem disorganized and disjointed, I have no doubt there is a hierarchy in place. We have but to find that leader and show him the advantages of our offer and sway him to our side.”
“And if he says no or wants more concession than we are willing to give?”
“My father hates sycophants, but he has always been willing to use them. If the leader that is currently in power will not dance to our tune, then we should find and facilitate the rise of a new leader that will.”
“A regime change,” Alexander said musingly. “I can see how that might work to our favor.” He arched a brow imperiously as if he had just found the fatal flaw in her argument. “But how do you suggest we find the one in charge?”
Sacha smiled and waved a hand. “I’ll just have to fly out on Bora and find him for you.”
Alexander leaned forward as he laughed. “Simple as that, is it?”
“Yes,” Sacha replied with a sultry air to her voice. “Simple as that.” Impulsively, she leaned to meet him and gently kissed the prince on the lips.
He froze in surprise. It had been several weeks since he had tried to kiss her in any manner other than one might a mother or a sister. It had been even longer since he’d proposed activities beyond kissing. When Sacha didn’t pull away, his posture eased, and he returned her kiss hungrily. She felt his hands slide around her sides, pulling her gently closer. Sacha let herself be drawn into his embrace, meeting his hunger with passion of her o
wn.
The basket began to tilt under their shifting weight before Alexander finally broke away from her, breathless. He looked deeply into her eyes and whispered, “Is this real? Have you returned to me?”
Sacha smiled. “I think it’s time we both found out.”
COLUMNS of pipe smoke climbed into the rafters of the council chambers. The many tendrils combined into one formless cloud as they became trapped under the vaulted ceiling. Sacha didn’t smoke, but she had come to enjoy the mellow, earthy scent of the strong dwarven tabac favored by the councilors. It reminded her of comfortable chairs, interesting books, and thoughtful conversations with friends. How she wished some of that association was true at the moment.
Alexander had insisted she be the one to propose the idea of sanctuary for the Wildmen. Sacha had conceded even though she had numerous misgivings. Thus far, things were not going well.
“It’s too risky,” Lord Banlor Graves said, relaxing into his seat as if it were a plush settee in his home rather than one of the hard-bottomed, high-backed winewood chairs surrounding the great table. From his slumped position, he swept his hawklike gaze over the queen and other council members. His voice of dissent was one of many so far, but Sacha had caught the secretive glances of several of the other councilmen toward Lord Graves as they added their own arguments against her plan. “What happens after the hobgoblins are defeated? What will the Wildmen do then?”
Lord Graves was far from the only one who took the inevitable defeat of the hobgoblin horde as a given. Sacha ground her teeth slightly as she wondered why, then, if they were so mighty, they needed the alliance with Pelos her marriage provided. She was confident the soldiers of Basinia were brave. She had come to know many of them personally and would match more than a few against one of her fellow Pelosians. The horde, though, was something else entirely. True, the Wildmen had hobgoblins in their ranks, but those tended to be the outcasts of the breed that were not conditioned to the constant brutality of the swamplands.
Sacha took a moment to consider her words before she continued. She needed urgency lent to the conflict at hand, not to the distraction of what might come. “With respect, Minister, your point has little bearing on the situation we face at the moment. The Wildmen must be dealt with now. What is done with them after comes after. I will grant you that the individual packs of Wildmen do not pose a direct threat to our security, but there are so many that they do weaken our position and undermine our ability to rule. Basinia cannot afford to let the current state of affairs persist. Our people deserve better from us, and if we are weakened when the horde moves north, the hobgoblins will devour us all.”
“I doubt that, Princess,” Lord Graves persisted. He glanced at his supporters with a smug chuckle. “Even if the horde is moving north, which I personally doubt, our forces will deal with the uneducated, undisciplined masses easily. They will taste our steel and flee back to their misbegotten swamp with the lessons learned dribbling from their twisted lips. Generations of their offspring will be frightened into obedience by the horrific fate that awaits any who dare to cross our borders.”
They had now come full circle once again. Banlor was not alone in his assumption of the supposed invincibility of the Basinian army. In fact, each of the prior naysayers had ended their arguments with the proclamation that the country was all but impregnable. One she had yet to meet personally, Dammer Gornella, had gone so far as to allow his dismissal of her arguments to lead him to the dangerous precipice of disrespect. When his gaze shifted from its contemplation of her, it was only in eye-rolling mockery as she spoke. Vexing as the churlish behavior was, Sacha found she preferred it to the predatory gaze he otherwise engaged. There was a weight to it that was uncomfortably familiar.
Despite the grumbling disapproval from many of the council members, Sacha thought her last statement had made ground. Aside from Dammer, Banlor, and those like them, her words were having an impact. The honorable Lord Julian Lile bent his head to speak softly with Mistress Abigaile Songree. The two of them looked unconvinced in the face of Banlor’s confident statements. There were others who also appeared to have doubts, although they were not so numerous as those who agreed with Lord Graves.
Sacha pressed on. “Are you willing to take that chance?” she asked. “So confident are you that you would not even make an attempt at peaceful resolution?”
“You’ve stated that these scattered savages have a leader, and yet you offer no proof other than the similarities of your own history. Pelos is not a wild kingdom of men. Or at least, it isn’t any longer. Your proposal is a waste of time and coin, Princess. We would do better to look elsewhere for our resolution with the Wildmen.”
His dark eyes glittered as they studied her reaction. They were the only part of him that belied his relaxed posture and hinted at the true politician hidden beneath.
The discipline and patience she had been practicing with Teacher were sorely tested. Sacha reined in her instinctual grab for the Shamonrae with a mighty effort and made sure to smooth her voice before she spoke. “The resources spent in search for the Wildmen hierarchy would be minimal—”
“I beg to differ, Princess,” Banlor interrupted, sitting forward in the picture of earnest agitation. “You have proposed to conduct the search yourself. Are you and our prince not the future of our kingdom?” He paused to take in all the council members before looking back at Sacha. “I would not risk that future. I would not risk you, Princess.”
Sacha was not fooled by the minister’s declaration of concern, but she also had no rebuttal. There would be risk, it was true, though not more so for her than anyone else. Less even. Her access to the Shamonrae granted her a far better chance of avoiding harm than most. Sadly, revealing that power was one thing she absolutely could not do. It had been well known that Sacha was training to be a practitioner of the art and just as well known that Sloane was not. Even if she were to claim a newfound discovery that she could wield the Shamonrae, it was also common knowledge that many years would be sacrificed to study before one acquired the discipline to use such power responsibly and that that training would take place far north at the Monastery. Too many complications would stem from being sent to “learn” the ways of the arcane—Teacher’s absence, her mission, and Rylan’s life, to name a few.
As Sacha steadily looked at each council member in turn, she knew the majority of them stood against her proposal. She had hoped more of them would see the logic in her plan, as the queen would give weight to their opinions when making her decision. Lord Graves especially had brought up several issues that would be points of contention with Queen Rhian. Sacha had to make her ending comments strong enough to outweigh those concerns.
“I believe my plan has merit, even if I am not the one to search for the leader of the Wildmen. Any alliance that comes from this effort can be tilted in our favor. What choice do they have? With the horde to their south and our swords to their north, dwarves to the west and the kingdom of Pelos to their east, alliance is their best option whether they realize it or not.” She glanced at Lord Graves. “I am more than certain the council members here are up to the task of negotiating such an agreement with so much in our favor. So I would ask that you consider sending at least a few Rhadoken to look for the Wildmen leader in the hopes of resolving this matter with minimal bloodshed.” She eased into her chair next to Alexander. His hand covered hers under the table and squeezed lightly.
Sacha held her breath as the tension in the air seemed to thicken while the queen deliberated in silence.
“I see that we are at an impasse,” Queen Rhian stated without preamble. Her aged gaze was steely as it moved around the room before settling on Sacha. “I agree with Lord Graves that you are too precious to participate directly in an endeavor with so much risk. However, I also agree that less bloodshed would be favorable and to the benefit of this kingdom. This said, I have come to the conclusion that Princess Sloane will be allowed to oversee a search for the leader of the Wildmen. To
facilitate this effort, I will grant her three Rhadoken to use as she sees fit, provided that she does not, under any circumstances, join the search herself. So I have said, so shall it be.”
The council repeated the queen’s last words, as was customary after the announcement of a decree.
Queen Rhian nodded in mute acknowledgement of the chorus and rose to make her way to the base of the dais, looking neither right nor left. Her chamberlain had risen from his chair to kneel as she descended. He stood and offered her his strong arm, guiding her from the council room.
The men and women who had disagreed with Sacha stood respectfully as Rhian left, but their disappointment was poorly hidden behind cracked facades. As soon as the door had closed behind Rhian, a great racket erupted as chairs were pushed, papers were gathered, and soft conversations began in a low buzz. The naysayers neither looked at her nor offered courtesies as they left, though she was fairly certain they were supposed to. Lord Lile stopped long enough to bow briefly to Sacha and Alexander as they watched the commotion. Mistress Abigail offered a doubtful twist of the lips that might have qualified as a smile before the chamber door thumped shut behind her.
When Sacha and the prince were alone, she sighed with relief and allowed herself to slump in her seat. Half a pie. She might not be able to search for the leader of the Wildmen directly, but at least her plan could move forward. She stood from her seat and began to pace briskly. “I will need to see the maps and the locations where the greatest concentrations of the Wildmen have been spotted. Do you have any notion where they might be headed?”
Alexander’s eyes danced merrily as he watched her move back and forth. “You certainly don’t dally.”
“History will only count this a victory if I am successful,” Sacha said philosophically. “And success is generally given to those who act.”
“True enough,” Alexander allowed. “Today is a step in the right direction regardless. It will take more time, but the council and other ruling nobles will come to respect and trust your ideas.”
Book of Sacha: Dark Fate (The Dark Fate Chronicles 3) Page 14
