Second Stone (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

They would have liked nothing more than to break camp the very next morning, heading straight to Sheas Harbor. Unfortunately, over a quarter of their forces had sustained one injury or another during the skirmish with the Separatists. In addition to their own wounded, they’d taken on the duty of caring for several of Russell’s men who had been gravely wounded.

One of their own wounded and two of the Separatists died the first night, despite Emariya and Jessa’s best efforts.

Emariya was busy mopping the fever-soaked brow of one of the Royal Forces when Torian poked his head in. “Walk with me, My Lady?” he asked in his easy manner.

She smiled despite her exhaustion and followed him out of the tent.

Away from the tent where injury, blood, and pain pervaded each inch of space, the camp looked the same as it had every other day.

“You are pushing yourself too hard.”

Torian wouldn’t have asked her to talk a walk with him just to discuss whether she was taking sufficient time to rest. She waited. He’d say what he really wanted in due time.

He didn’t leave her waiting long. “We need to make some decisions soon.” He looked toward the south, where Sheas Harbor lay out of sight, but never out of either of their minds.

“Many of the men are not yet ready to travel.” Surely he wasn’t suggesting they leave them behind? She’d been using what she could of her gift, trying to help them heal. It was hard to know for sure, but she thought she’d been successful.

“Ours will be ready soon—their injuries are mostly light.”

Tenderly, she reached out to touch his bruised cheek. It had turned a greenish-yellow, and it looked even more ominous in the bright midday light. “And of the rest?”

“We cannot allow ourselves to be held up by them,” Torian said in a guarded tone.

“Offer them a choice. Let them join us if they will.”

“And if they won’t?”

A long silence passed while she struggled to find an answer. “If they won’t, then we’ve done all we can. Our only hope for the bloodshed to end is if we show the people that Cornerstones are nothing to fear.”

“They may not accept our show of peace.”

“We have to try. And if they don’t…that’s another matter altogether, I suppose.” She tried to concentrate on the needs of their own men. They risked getting sick the longer they spent out here, without getting a chance to truly rest. That chance would not come before they made it to Sheas Harbor, and it wasn’t likely to be waiting for them there, either. Could she agree to have men killed just to hurry their pace? “Perhaps we are no better than my brother after all. Offering peace, but only under our terms.”

“We didn’t start this fight.” With a gentle hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face him.

“Neither did he. Not really. The Separatists did; Reeve merely renewed it.” Her hands were clenched in tight fists at her sides. If only she knew who to be angry at.

“Do you really believe that?” His voice made it clear he didn’t.

She bit her lip. “No.”

“Then quit trying to be strong and tell me what you really want us to do with these men.”

“Bind them up and bring them along. After you offer them to chance to join us.”

“You are so sure they won’t accept?”

She nodded; unfortunately, she was.

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Three excruciatingly long days later, their journey was finally underway. Three Separatists rode under heavy guard amidst their own forces. They had unanimously declined the prince’s generous offer.

“Our men have recovered more fully and faster than I could have expected.” Torian rode beside her, glancing over with a knowing smile. “I believe we have you to thank for that.

“Jessa helped.” Emariya kept her voice light.

“Jessa doesn’t command the gift of the Warrens.”

“Perhaps.” An embarrassed smile spread across her face.

“Did you…the rumbling…?”

Emariya knew what he was trying to ask. “Yes. I could feel it coursing through me.”

“So it wasn’t intentional, then?”

“No. I was furious that you were going to sacrifice yourself. I knew I had to protect you, and myself, and it just sort of radiated out. I don’t think I could have stopped it if I’d wanted to. Somehow, it seemed like it was pushing everything away from me.”

“Well, it definitely created massive confusion, but it also gave us back the upper hand. You were kind of scary beautiful.”

While Emariya couldn’t help laughing, she understood what he wasn’t saying. They might need that upper hand later. “Scary beautiful, huh?”

His silver eyes sparkled as he smiled back at her.

“Do you think Reeve has control of his?” The heavy feeling in her chest had become a persistent presence. She could help worrying about her brother and his plans.

“I hope not, for all of our sakes.” Torian glowered, his mood immediately dampening.

Would she be able to handle it if it came to a fight between her and her brother? As far as she could see, she didn’t have a choice. Hopefully, her father would be able to stop him, but of one thing she could be certain: if Reeve could use his gifts, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Somehow, she had to prepare herself to do the same.

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Terin had often dreamed of seeing more of The Three Corners. In the future, she would have to remember to be more careful of what she wished for.

She had been locked in a little room since they’d arrived late the night before. It might not be small by others’ standards, but having been raised in a castle for the last seventeen years, it was small to her.

Small, but clean, at least. After several weeks on the run through the wilds of Thalmas and Eltar, clean was a welcome change. A fire burned steadily in the hearth, the blankets on the bed were well mended and soft, and a fine rug covered the stone floor. The green drapes weren’t her color, but they were plush, and they cast a nice hue over the room as the sun shone through the tiny window.

The window was narrower than it first appeared. When they’d first locked her in here, she’d nearly gotten stuck trying to climb through, and she was on the small side compared to other girls.

The only way out would be through the door, and they didn’t seem inclined to open it no matter how much she pounded, protested, begged, or pleaded. Her voice had been the first to go. After hours and hours of screaming through the door, she’d gone hoarse, then silent. Long after her voice had abandoned her, her fists proved more tenacious. Early morning light had begun to filter through the window before she’d given up pounding on the door, her hands bruised and throbbing.

She knew someone was out there. Hurried footsteps periodically rushed through the halls, quickening as they passed her door. Terin prayed someone would stop and let her out while simultaneously fearing who it might be that would eventually stop and come in.

It didn’t take much work on her part to figure out she was at Warren’s Rest. She could imagine one reason and one reason only for Lord Warren to have her transported to him from Castle Ahlen.

Impatient footsteps sounded in the stone hallway. Compared to all those she’d heard before, these moved with purpose. Terin’s heart skidded to a stop along with the feet outside her door.

Moving rapidly backwards through the room, she put as much space between her and the door as possible. A key scraped against the lock. Her breath caught.

After an excruciatingly long pause, the door swung inwards.

Silhouetted in the doorway stood the most terrifyingly handsome man Terin had ever seen.

Her fingers flew to her lips as she struggled to suppress a gasp.

For a brief, unguarded moment, he stood and stared at her as if he, too, were taken by surprise.

Indefinable moments passed while their eyes explored each other’s. They were both the prey, and both the hunter, caught between a ferocious tidal current that left her breathless and eager all at once.
So this is how my brother and Emariya felt
, she thought.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice wasn’t as rough as she’d expected. It was ragged, giving her a quick suspicion that he was fighting for control.

Terin nodded, afraid to speak.

“And do you know why I’ve brought you here?”

“The Stones.”

“My sister refuses to participate in my plan to rule The Three Corners. She’s developed an idiotically noble sense of right and wrong.”

“She’s afraid,” Terin said, her eyes never leaving his. His blond hair was bound tightly behind his head. She tried to ignore the plaguing thought of how much she’d like to remove the band and tangle her fingers in the loosened strands.

“And are you…afraid?” He studied her carefully.

“Very much so.” She’d never been more afraid or more excited in her life.

“Me, too.” Reeve’s whispered response was so quiet, she was almost unsure if she’d truly heard it.

“Together, you and I
are
going to bind the lines. It will be easier if you are willing, but that’s not necessary.”

Terin turned away, staring out the window.

“Lady Ahlen—”

“Your Highness,” she corrected, anger flaring up inside. She was a princess of Thalmas. Who did he think he was, treating her like this, telling her what they were and weren’t going to do? It was easier to be angry when she wasn’t looking at his hauntingly gorgeous face.

When he spoke again, his words were determined, forced through gritted teeth. “I don’t
want
to hurt you. It would hurt me to hurt you, I think.” He sounded puzzled by this. “But make no mistake, I don’t need your cooperation, only your blood.”

Terin continued looking out the window until she heard the door thud closed softly and the key clank in the lock. She could feel his absence immediately, but at least with him gone, she was free to hate him, and she did. She suspected it would only last until he returned.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“They will be expecting us,” Emariya said, glancing over to look at Torian. The bruise on his cheek had faded to a golden shadow.

With a grim nod, he agreed. “Word of our approach will have surely made it to the harbor by now.” They’d passed isolated homesteads as they’d made their way closer, though they’d encountered no opposition. Yet.

The bloody battle was a week behind them. Thanks to Emariya’s herbal skills, most of the physical wounds were nearly healed, though the mental ones still lingered. For Emariya, they might never go away.

Donning her practiced face, she shut all thoughts of the battle out of her mind. Today, she had to be Lady of Warren’s Rest, Princess of Thalmas, and a lost daughter of Sheas. She had no room for self-doubts. Proper lady’s shoes, indeed.

Looking the part had been easy enough, thanks to Jessa. Together they decided her best chance to catch Hendel’s undivided attention was to look as much like her mother as possible. From what they knew of Hendel, he could easily throw out the Princess of Thalmas. It would take him even less effort to order her death as Lady of Eltar than it would for him to hear her plea. But could he turn a deaf ear to his niece’s daughter? Emariya hoped not.

Each strand of her blonde hair gleamed, floating loosely beneath the silver crown gracing the top of her head. She would have liked to wear her mother’s hair comb, but in this, at least, she needed to show that she also came as a representative of Thalmas. Lady Valencia’s locket dangled from her neck, swaying gently above the neckline of the brilliant sea-blue dress her grandmother had given her. Emariya’s own velvet cloak draped delicately from her shoulders. At least she’d look elegant while she froze in the crisp winter air.

Absentmindedly, Emariya fingered her locket, hoping her Great-Grandmother Carah would lend her strength. Surely she would need it to face her uncle if he lived up to even half of the rumors that preceded him. Maybe Carah could encourage her uncle to be more receptive to her plea.

Rees Hendel is not a Roth.
Carah’s voice wafted through her head. Oh, right. He was married to one, but he wasn’t a Stone himself. Emariya panicked, letting out a shocked gasp. Had she taken the mindroot that morning, or had she been too busy getting ready? After careful consideration, she clearly remembered taking it. So how was her great-grandmother getting through? Then she remembered her grandfather’s promise, that she would still sometimes hear the spirits, she just wouldn’t see them, and her mother wouldn’t be able to trap her. Maybe her connection with the locket was helping.

She reached up and touched it again. “Can you hear me?”

From his own horse, Torian asked, “Hear you what?”

Emariya waved her hand to shush him. His eyes grew wide.

Just when she thought she must have been wrong, the voice came again.
I am with you, child. Worry not. But do not count on me to be your eyes
—
my view is limited.

Torian was watching her, his eyes heavy with suspicion.

Emariya looked up and smiled. “I heard my great-grandmother. I think the locket helps.”

“You took your mindroot, right?” Torian’s eyes clouded with worry.

As she nodded, he relaxed incrementally, but still seemed on edge.

Garith had taken charge of overseeing the procession. To make a royal and commanding impression as they rode into Sheas, they’d resumed their positions from when they’d left Castle Ahlen. Satisfied everyone was ready, Garith took his place to her right. Unlike their friendly just-for-show procession from Thalmas, they were as deep as possible in rival lands, riding into a hornet’s nest. The most elite of the Royal Forces kept close to the prince and his bride.

Emariya’s heart fluttered. If all went according to plan, in a few hours she’d be in her father’s arms.
I’m coming, Father
, she thought.
Just hold on.

Rink again bore the banner of Thalmas as he rode at the front, a guard on either side of him. Two more guards rode protectively beside Emariya and Torian, while the bulk of their force followed behind.

Sheas Harbor was strategically nestled between the sea, the mountains, and the river. It did not take long for them to catch sight of the giant walls encompassing the sprawling city. Crossing the clay soil they kept to a brisk pace—fast enough to not delay the inevitable, while also reserving their mounts’ energy, should a hasty retreat prove necessary.

The salty air left a thirst upon Emariya’s lips that was not easily quenched by the water in her flask. While it didn’t exactly smell like home, the strong, tangible scent brought memories of spring and the simple, alive scent of Eltar’s fields. Eltar might smell like life, but Sheas Harbor reeked of preservation. The cloying scent clung to her nose, saying ‘we will persevere, persist and outlast our foes.’ Indeed, the impenetrable walls sang of safety and security. Would they even let her in?

As the walls rose up, growing constantly nearer as they rode, the thundering of their horses’ hooves rhythmically announced their approach. Drawing near to the gate, Emariya’s back stiffened when she caught sight of the archers lining the top of the walls. Two guards stood stoically in front of the city entrance. She was just gathering herself to demand they let her through when the guards saved her the trouble. With matching nods that were almost respectful, if not exactly welcoming, the two guards stepped aside, leaving the opening free.

Rink glanced back over his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, Riya saw Torian give an almost imperceptible nod. They swept through the gates and into Sheas Harbor with watchful eyes. Inside the city proper, the streets crawled with people. Servants scrambled about, tending to their ladies. Men haggled, and peddlers touted their wares. From what Emariya could tell, they had entered the heart of the market district. She saw no houses; only shops and stalls boasting a variety of goods lined the path.

Had she been visiting under better circumstances, Emariya would have loved to pause and browse the stalls. Each vendor had their own handcrafted selection of pottery, little painted figurines, and jewelry. A few offered brightly dyed cloths. These seemed to be the most sought after. She caught herself staring as two women argued over who had seen a particularly brilliant bolt of red linen first.

The irony and pointlessness of it was not lost on Emariya. At Warren’s Rest, it would have been exactly the opposite. Though they didn’t often dye their clothes quite so brightly, the linen was so easily accessible, it would have been largely ignored. The pottery, however, was exquisite, and would be deemed quite the luxury.

As much as she watched them, they watched her in return. Of the older townspeople, several visibly startled as her procession passed. Their shock seemed to be tied less to a large group of mounted and armed men passing through their city than aimed directly at her. One woman’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.

Emariya smiled. Judging by their reactions, her and Jessa’s endeavor had proven successful. Now she only had to hope it maintained the desired effect for Hendel.

Her entire life, Emariya had only ever heard Rees Hendel described as a ruthless dictator. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting of Sheas Harbor, but to say what she found surprised her would be a vast understatement. The people looked happy as they moved about their daily life. They didn’t look like people suffering from oppression.

Those that looked at her didn’t seem to be afraid. The citizens of Sheas Harbor gave them many curious glances, but overall, they continued about their daily lives. These were a people who feared no one, trusting their sturdy walls and shrewd leader to keep them safe.

Where the commoners looked at them as a curiosity, the militia scattered about regarded them with wary caution, but still not surprise.

Noblewomen decorated much of the street. The men looked confident, not haggard and overworked, as they did in both Eltar and Thalmas. How unimpressive Warren’s Rest must have seemed to her mother after growing up here. Resentment boiled. They had everything, and yet were unsatisfied. How greedy did a land have to be to prosper while their neighbors struggled? And yet they pushed onward, leaving their highly guarded stone walls and venturing to seize the land of their neighbors, as well.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she shoved her anger aside. She had to focus on one thing and one thing only. She could not worry about long-term relations between their lands. At this moment, the only thing that mattered was her father’s freedom.

An hour later, they finally came to a stop. Emariya’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the imposing yet glorious building across the bridge before her. The palace at Sheas Harbor dominated the eastern portion of the city. Framed from behind by the mountainside, it formed a regal centerpiece. The sea offered a dramatic and splendid view as they passed over the smooth white stone bridge. The bridge was more decorative than functional. Although it offered a smooth passage over the rocks at the base of the mountainside, more than anything, it afforded an opportunity for a grand entrance. Had the original masons wanted to, they could have simply allowed passage directly to the front stone steps instead of making the splendid but unnecessary bridge.

Emariya forced her gaze straight ahead, holding her head proudly erect, determined to look every bit the princess she had become.

At Garith’s signal, the Royal Forces came to a halt at the foot of the bridge. Ahead, the palace doors swung open and an aged man in crimson robes stepped out. He offered a weak smile, but somewhere behind his eyes, fondness flickered.

“You’ve been expected,” he said by way of greeting. “You’re welcome to enter, but your militia is not.” While his words were directed to Torian, his eyes kept flitting to Emariya.

She wanted nothing more than to dismount quickly and stride inside, but she forced herself to remain patient and let decorum prevail.
It’s all about image
, she reminded herself.

Rink dismounted first and took the reins of Torian’s stallion while the prince dismounted. Torian turned to her, a smile on his face but tension straining his shoulders as he lifted her delicately off her filly.

Once she was securely on the ground, she smoothed her skirts while Torian addressed the gentlemen in the robe still waiting patiently at the front of their entourage.

“Surely, your master will not begrudge us Her Highness’s personal adviser and a few of our elite guard?” Torian beckoned to Garith to dismount.

The man bowed deeply, then rose. The tanned, leathery skin around his eyes wrinkled as he frowned. “Her adviser only. I’m afraid we must insist.”

Emariya watched as Torian glanced back to his army. He was likely contemplating exactly what she was. Could they force their way inside? They had no idea how many guards roamed the palace halls, but if she had to guess, she’d say it was likely a lot.

Torian’s face was pained, obviously conflicted. They would be putting themselves completely at Hendel’s mercy if they entered without his guard. And if they didn’t, they were signing Terin’s fate.

Making up her mind, Emariya stepped forward. “As you wish. Our forces will wait here.”

Relief crossed the old man’s face, and he promptly turned to lead them into the palace.