by Sharon Shinn
“I don’t believe the loss of one mystic will weigh that heavily in their calculations.” They were far enough away by now that it didn’t matter what he knew. “Besides, there are reinforcements on the way even as we speak. Ariane Rappengrass has brought an army to fight for the princess.”
He was unimpressed. “Yes, and I will counter with fresh soldiers of my own—Arberharst troops marching down through Tilt. You still do not have the numbers, Senneth. You cannot win.”
“We have numbers we didn’t count on,” she said. “Nocklyn forces ride with Rappengrass.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrows twitch together in a frown. “Impossible. Nocklyn is—” He pressed his lips together.
She felt a moment’s triumph, and it was sweet. “Nocklyn is under the control of marlady Mayva,” she drawled. “Whose husband has been arrested for murder. Oh!” She put her free hand to her mouth. “Wasn’t her husband a relation of yours?”
His eyes narrowed, but he offered her a cold smile. “So. Mayva surprises everyone, and my cousin most of all, no doubt. You may be pleased, and I may be disgruntled, but it makes no material difference. I still have superior forces—and I still have you. Next to Amalie, you are the most visible figure in the royal army. And you are in my power. That will shake the princess. That will shake her defenders. Mark my words, when the fight resumes in the morning, the royal camp will be in turmoil, and my allies will press their advantage.”
That’s not why you took me, she wanted to say—except she didn’t want him to answer, didn’t want him to speak of his plans for her. Instead she said coldly, “You will be surprised at how fiercely they will fight. Whether or not I am with them.”
“Well, I might be, except I will not be there to see it,” he said. One of his men took away their plates and Halchon stretched his legs out comfortably before him. “You and I, Senneth, are headed to Ghosenhall. I have a regiment stationed there, and I understand the residents of the city have become quite—ah—eager to accommodate my soldiers in all regards. I thought it an interesting move when you decided to abandon the city—strategically wise, perhaps, but symbolically disastrous! Ghosenhall is where the king resides—whoever resides in Ghosenhall is the king. Once we are installed in the palace, my dear, we will be hard to dislodge. And if, as seems to me very likely, your little princess is soon advised by her regent to flee for her life, well, then! She will be in Brassenthwaite or Kianlever—but I will be sitting on the throne in Ghosenhall, with you at my side. It will be easy for me to call myself king, then, don’t you think? It will only seem natural.”
“It will never seem natural to think of you on the throne,” she said.
He laughed. “Nonsense. You will quickly grow resigned to the notion, I think.” Unexpectedly, he jerked her into his arms and laid his mouth heavily upon hers. It was like being kissed by death. Senneth felt as if she was suffocating, as if her body had been coated with ice. He held her tighter, and she lost all ability to breathe.
When he finally lifted his head, he smiled down at her, his own breathing harsh and his eyes lit by dark satisfaction. “I have waited so long to taste your mouth,” he murmured. “And it is just as delicious as I had always hoped. Senneth, I live for the day I take you as my wife.” He bent his head to kiss her again.
She struggled madly in his arms, trying to at least get one hand free. She was a swordswoman; she had trained with Riders. Surely, even if her magic had failed, her physical strength was still uncompromised. He shifted his hold, and her right arm slipped from his grasp. She balled her fist and swung her hand hard into his ribs.
Halchon grunted and loosened his grip, and she punched him again. Dimly she was aware of movement around them—his men, hearing their struggle, coming to his aid—but she paid them no attention. She struck him again and fought to her knees as his hands flailed and his fingers slipped and, just for a moment, he lost contact with her.
She kicked him hard in the groin and somersaulted backward, calling flame from both hands as she landed in a crouch. Shouts rang out from all around her; the campfire leapt skyward. Halchon would not burn, so she sprayed the rest of the soldiers with a fine fire, and they yelped and started running away from her. Could she hold them all at bay? She got one foot under her and tried to push herself to a standing position.
Someone struck her a hard blow from behind, flattening her to the ground, and then Halchon was sprawled across her, covering her body with his. Instantly, the flames at her fingertips went out. The campfire hissed and died away to coal. Instantly, she was wretched and dull and wracked with misery.
Halchon was breathing heavily in her ear. “So! Not quite as docile as you have pretended all afternoon! To tell you the truth, I was beginning to be a little bored, but this display of temper reassures me. Such a tumultuous life we will have together, Senneth! But I see I will never be able to relax my guard for a minute.”
“I’ll kill you when I get the chance,” she panted.
He hauled himself to a sitting position, dragging her up with him. “But you’ll never get the chance, my dear.”
“Everyone is careless,” she said. “Even you.”
He patted her hair, as if she was a rebellious child of whom he was inordinately fond. “I think soon you will become so used to me that you’ll lose all desire to murder me in my sleep,” he said. “That, or you’ll become so worn down that you’ll be unable to summon the strength to fight. It will be interesting to see which.”
She didn’t answer him; indeed, she didn’t speak to him again as the whole camp began to bed down for the night. Once she was under Halchon’s control again, the soldiers returned, clearly unnerved by her display of power and sheepish about how quickly it had routed them. The marlord and one of his men discussed their route in the morning while the other soldiers divided the watches. Someone built the fire back up. The rest of them distributed themselves on the ground or took their stations to guard the perimeter.
Halchon pulled Senneth back to the blanket where they had sat for their meal. A second blanket had been unrolled on top of it, and Senneth silently allowed him to situate her beneath it and then lie down beside her. He slipped his arm over her waist and pressed his body to her back. Sweet gods, such a horrific mockery of the loving embrace she was used to sharing with Tayse every night.
Halchon kissed the back of her head. “Sleep well, Senneth, and recruit your strength. Today can’t have been easy for you, and I’m afraid we have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.” His arm squeezed her closer and then relaxed a little. “I’m so glad you’re here with me tonight.”
She didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure if she should try to sleep, and thus be rested enough to make another try for freedom in the morning, or if she should stay awake so she could attempt to slip away from him while he slumbered. His touch was still poisonous, still nauseating, but a sense of fierce elation was helping her combat the helpless despair his very presence engendered.
As soon as she had escaped from him, she had been able to call fire. It bided in her blood, ready to be summoned at an instant’s notice. All she needed was a second. All she had to do was get free.
DAWN arrived, overcast, cold, and grudging. It was barely light enough to see, but Senneth heard a few of the Gisseltess soldiers grumbling as they rolled out of their beds, stoked the fire, and quietly assembled a meal. Most everyone else, Halchon included, was still sleeping. His arm was still leaden across her waist. He had not moved an inch away from her all night.
Senneth had slept fitfully, jerking awake over and over again, convinced that she was drowning. But that was just Halchon’s touch making it hard for her lungs to draw in air. Weariness had settled deep into her bones, right alongside fear—but determination was making a hard, cold shell around her heart.
Halchon would make a mistake. He would be careless. And she would make her move.
Not lifting her head from the blanket, Senneth sent her gaze around the camp, noting how many were st
irring, how many were sleeping. It looked like five men were still on watch and three were preparing the breakfast. Two or three others were sitting up, checking weapons or digging through saddlebags. The rest appeared to still be lost to sleep. Her odds would never be better than this.
Just to be sure, she glanced around one more time, and she saw Tayse.
He put a finger to his lips and disappeared.
For a moment, astonishment left her rigid, and then her mind started to race. Tayse was here! Had crept into this camp entirely undetected and vanished apparently at will. So either fear and sleeplessness had combined to give her hallucinations, or he had been escorted to this place by Ellynor. And if Ellynor was here, Justin was here. And if Justin and Tayse were here, other Riders might be with them.
And if the Riders had come to rescue her, Senneth was as good as saved.
Now all she had to do was make it possible for them to save her.
She sat up hastily, pulling Halchon’s arm with her. Almost, it was enough to break his hold, but even as he fought back sleep he snatched her wrist and prevented her from scrambling away. “I see a night of calm reflection has done nothing to reconcile you to your changed situation,” he said through a yawn.
“There are not enough nights left in my life to accustom me to the thought of being your prisoner,” she answered coolly.
He laughed softly. “I hope you are wrong about that, or you have a melancholy existence ahead of you.”
What she had to do was separate Halchon from his men. “I need to relieve myself,” she said baldly. “Pull yourself to your feet and take me to someplace that approximates privacy.”
“Gladly, my dear,” he said, rising and helping her stand beside him. “Then we shall eat, and then we shall be on our way.”
He led her a short distance away from camp, though all his soldiers were still plainly in view. Keeping one hand on her wrist, he reached down with the other and began to fumble with his trousers.
Tayse materialized before them like a furious god, his sword upraised and gleaming. “Release her before I kill you,” he growled.
Too swiftly for Senneth to anticipate, Halchon jerked her against him and drew a knife across her neck. “Come a step closer, and she dies,” he hissed.
For a moment, the three of them were frozen, the Rider with his sword arm reared back to strike, the marlord with a dagger to his hostage’s throat, and Senneth motionless between them. Behind them, there was a sudden outcry and the furious clash of weapons. Whoever else had accompanied Tayse had apparently just engaged the Gisseltess soldiers. But Senneth couldn’t risk even a glance in that direction. She was focused on Tayse, watching his face, waiting for any signal that would let her know what to do next. Halchon was surely dead, but she might be, too, if she wasn’t very, very careful.
“I have waited a long time to kill you,” Tayse said in the iciest voice Senneth had ever heard.
Halchon almost laughed. “You will never do anything to jeopardize her life, and I swear to you I will take it this instant if you do not back away and let me ride to safety.”
“There is no safety for a man such as yourself. You have commissioned regicide, and you are scheduled for execution at my hands. Even if you do not fall to me today, you are reviled throughout the kingdom, and any man who sees you may feel justified in cutting you down.”
It was a masterfully delivered speech, but Senneth missed some of it when a small, cold, invisible hand took hold of hers where it dangled free just under the restraint of Halchon’s arm. It was all she could do not to flinch and scream, but, of course, she instantly understood the message. Ellynor was there. Senneth should make herself ready.
Therefore, she was not surprised when Halchon’s sneering reply was abruptly interrupted. “Any man who sees me may call me ‘king’ for I—ufght!” Halchon gasped as someone landed a body blow from behind. His hold loosened just enough for Senneth to spin away.
Only two revolutions to her pirouette, but when she planted her feet and gazed back at her erstwhile abductor, Halchon was already kneeling on the ground with a blade through his heart. Tayse stood above him, staring remorselessly down, his hands still on the hilt. “You deserve a crueler death than this,” he said, and tore the blade downward with such force that Halchon’s body practically split in two.
Senneth had to fight back a sob of horror and relief. Ellynor was suddenly standing beside her, concern on her face. “Are you hurt?” Ellynor asked.
Senneth shook her head wildly. “No—no—he didn’t harm me. He just—his touch—I couldn’t—”
Tayse wrenched his sword free and strode over to take Senneth in a hard embrace. Oh, how different the feel of this man’s arms around her! Strength flowed from his body into hers; her soul ignited. “His touch will never trouble you again,” Tayse said.
There was no time for a passionate reunion. Behind them, the sounds of conflict intensified. Senneth pulled free and forced herself to run toward the battle, calling, “How many did you bring? Halchon had about fifty men.”
Tayse and Ellynor were racing along beside her. “We number twenty,” Tayse called back. “But eight are Riders.”
Senneth nodded and raised her arms above her head.
Gods, it felt so good to summon fire again, to feel it kindle in her veins and pour from her fingertips. This was close fighting, so she must be careful, throw her bolts at precise targets. There—a man in red and black. She twisted her wrist, and his uniform went up in flames. He dropped to the ground, shrieking. Beside him, two Gisseltess men were boring in on the Rider Wen, whose blade flashed exquisitely as she lunged and parried. Senneth clenched her fingers, then snapped her hands open, and both of Wen’s attackers erupted into fire.
“To me! To me!” someone cried—another Gisseltess soldier shouting for reinforcements. Excellent; four of them bunched together, back-to-back, making a vigorous stand. Senneth turned them into a private conflagration. Their swords dropped and their screams of agony rent the air.
Around her, the Riders and their fellows were making short work of the rest of Halchon’s forces—those who did not cut and run, galloping off in five directions to escape the slaughter. Senneth saw Justin swing his head around at the sound of hoofbeats, then he turned to Tayse and called, “Should we go after them?”
“No,” Tayse replied. “Let them carry the tale to the rebel armies. Halchon Gisseltess is dead.”
Justin was surveying the carnage around him, his bloodied sword still at the ready, but at that he looked over with a grin on his streaked and dirty face. “He is? Then this has been a damn successful day.”
Tayse’s eyes had sought out Senneth; he nodded at her gravely. “Indeed,” he said, “it is a day to celebrate.”
THEY took another half hour to comb the small camp for survivors, finding none. Senneth was a little surprised to find, among her rescuers, a handful of Lirren fighters.
“I know you,” she said, approaching two compact, dark-haired men who stood with Ellynor. “You’re Ellynor’s brothers. Torrin and Hayden.”
“We are kin,” Torrin said immediately, for when they had met last fall, they had established their tenuous familial connection.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Now Torrin showed the brash grin that reminded her so much of Justin. “We’re kin,” he repeated. “We can’t let you languish in the hands of enemies. Though we do think it was careless of you to get caught.”
“Torrin!” Ellynor exclaimed.
“It was careless,” Senneth agreed. “And, although the entire experience was dreadful, I’d go through it again just to see Halchon Gisseltess slaughtered before my eyes.”
Justin charged up and swept her into a hug that took her off her feet. “Someday I’ll describe to you the look on Tayse’s face when Cammon came running up to tell us that you’d been taken,” he said before setting her back down. “It was clear at that point that Halchon would die at the end of Tayse’s sword. But, Bright
Mother burn me, I never want to be that afraid again. And all Cammon knew was that the marlord had grabbed you. He completely lost touch with you after that—and apparently he couldn’t read Halchon Gisseltess at all.”
“Then how did you find me?”
Justin nodded toward the Lirren men. “They tracked you. Never saw anyone able to move through the landscape like that, just reading every print and broken bit of bark. They helped sneak us into camp this morning, too. I thought Ellynor was good, but—”
Hayden looked scornful. “Women have their skills, but they are insignificant in battle.”
Justin laughed outright. “I might not be saying that in front of Senneth. Or even your sister.”
Torrin gave Senneth a sideways look. “But Senneth was captured,” he said, clearly intending to provoke her. “How good can her skills be?”
“How did it happen?” Ellynor asked.
“A man wearing Brassenthwaite colors came riding up to tell me Kirra had been injured,” she said and shrugged. “He described the arrow through the lionness’s body. I believed it, and I followed him. But when I got to the place where she was supposed to have fallen, Gisseltess men were there instead.”
“I might have been tricked, too,” Justin admitted.
Tayse joined them at that moment, putting his arms around Senneth from behind. “Nothing here left to do,” he said. “Are we ready to move on?”
She leaned against him, knowing it was a weakness to need his strength, but nonetheless reveling in his presence, his touch, his mere existence. She had not even dared to hope he would be able to find her. All because of Cammon—and Ellynor—and the Riders—and the Lirren men. So many had come together to save her. She felt a moment’s regret. “All these swords were subtracted from the fight because you came after me,” she said. “I hope that loss does not weigh heavily against Amalie’s forces.”
