The Bloodsworn (30 page)

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Highmount bore the news with icy calm—perhaps because he could not truly have expected his king to decide otherwise. The fact that Erik had even been willing to discuss it was a testament to how deeply his ordeal had undermined his confidence. But he'd been true to himself in the end, and though Alix knew, as they all did, that his decision must surely spell the end of the Kingdom of Alden, she understood him perfectly when he said that a kingdom willing to enslave five thousand men with magic would not be worth saving.

“If I must choose between the body and spirit of this country, then I choose her spirit, for it is eternal and can never be conquered.”

Highmount nodded gravely. “As you wish, Your Majesty. We will go to war with such means as we have at our disposal, and what will be will be.”

Erik put a hand on his shoulder. “Take heart, old friend. We may yet survive this. Regardless, you have done your duty, and for that the kingdom owes you a great debt. As do I.”

Alix's heart flooded—not with fear, as she might have expected, but with relief. For here at last was
Erik
, looking and sounding more like himself than he had in months. His strength was her strength, flowing into her and straightening her spine.
We may yet survive this. By the gods, we're certainly going to fight.

“I can feel that, you know,” Erik said when Highmount had gone. He sat at his desk, writing.

“What?”

“Your eyes on my back.” He looked over his shoulder with a smile. “What are you grinning at, Captain? Haven't you heard we're about to be conquered?”

“It's just good to have you back, that's all.”

“Not quite,” he said, turning back to his writing. “I still have dark paths to travel, I think. But now I have a light.” Without turning, he held out a hand, and Alix clasped it.

R
ig entered the study to find his king in full armour, a sight he hadn't seen since the Siege of Erroman. He'd been told to expect a slighter, paler Erik, but he saw none of that. If the king was thinner, it was hidden beneath his armour, and as for his face, he looked as strong and gravely composed as he had on the day Rig had ridden out to the front. “Your Majesty,” he said, clasping Erik's arm. “Damned good to see you.”

“And you.” Smiling, Erik stepped aside to let Rig embrace his sister.

“You made good time,” Alix said. “How did you keep those Oridians marching?”

“I didn't. Corren is a proud man—he wouldn't stand for his men slowing me down. Dishonour to the Trionate and so on. I have to say, they march well for a bunch of barely trained peasants.”

“A proud man,” Erik said, “and yet he surrendered. Why?”

“Long story,” Rig said. “Not sure I fully understand it myself. An act of conscience, I suppose you'd call it. He's a good man, I think. Principled.”

Erik nodded, exchanging a look with Alix that Rig didn't
fully understand. He knew there'd been talk of mobilising the captured Oridians to some purpose, but he hadn't yet had the details. Seeing his confusion, Erik said, “Your opinion of the enemy commander strengthens my conviction that I made the right decision. I'll explain later.” He gestured for Rig to take a seat. “What news of the Warlord?”

“Still in the eastern Greenlands, and apparently in no hurry. Burning and looting at their leisure. We came across a large crowd of refugees on the road with nothing more than the shirts on their backs. The whole town was razed, they told us. Corren confirms he had orders to do as much damage as possible. That was what put him over the edge, he told me. Made up his mind to surrender.”

“Sadik is trying to draw us out,” Erik said.

Rig nodded. “He has the men to grind us down in a siege, but it would be so much easier to smash us on the open field.”

“Coward,” Alix growled. “He's all but won, but still he spills the blood of innocents.”

“Doesn't bode well for the kind of ruler he'll make, does it?” Rig said darkly.

Erik looked puzzled for a moment, but then his brow cleared. “I had forgotten. With Madan and Varad gone, Sadik rules alone.”

“Alone and brutally,” Rig said.

Alix squeezed her eyes shut, a flicker of . . .
something
crossing her features. Fear, perhaps? But no—that didn't seem right. Rig made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Onnan has marched at last,” Erik said. “Too late, of course.”

“At least they marched. More than we can say for the Harrami.”

“Nevertheless, by the time they get here, there will be nothing but ash and rubble.”

Not quite
, Rig thought. The Red Tower would still stand. Erik would be imprisoned there, and Liam too. Alix, perhaps. Not Rig, though. The Warlord was known to collect the skulls of his most respected foes, and Rig fancied he'd earned that respect, gods help him.

“I suppose you'll want to get up on the walls,” Erik said.

“As soon as possible.”

“You won't be impressed, I'm afraid. They're still badly damaged from the siege.”

Rig flashed a humourless smile. “If you think they're in rough shape, it's a good job you didn't see the fort.”

“That reminds me,” Erik said, “have you done a final tally of our numbers?”

“Ten thousand, give or take. Rollin acquitted himself well. If there's a medal for swift and orderly retreats, he should definitely receive it.”

“Duly noted,” Erik said dryly, rising. “Shall we?”

The three of them spent the afternoon touring the walls with the other members of the war council: Liam, Raibert Green, and Rona Brown. Albern Highmount was there too, and formally part of the war council, but the old man's views on military matters were about as much use as Rig's opinions on courtly etiquette. Not that it took an experienced commander general to understand the lay of things. The walls would never hold up against a sustained attack and they all knew it. Sadik knew it too, though that didn't stop him trying to goad the Kingswords into the field.

Erik briefed him on the discussion in the council. Rig wasn't sorry to have missed it. He would have been sorely tempted to side with Highmount. He was no stranger to sacrificing men for the cause; he'd spent the better part of the past year ordering soldiers to lay down their lives. But turning Corren and his men into thralls . . . being part of that would have haunted him for the rest of his days.

It was evening before he finally managed to slip away to find Vel, and the impatience that had been gnawing at him all day gave way to nervousness. It had been over a month since they'd seen each other, but that wasn't the heart of it. No, the real problem was that he had something to tell her that wasn't going to be easy to say. “Get a hold of yourself, Black,” he muttered as he made his way toward the guest quarters.
Should have done it a long time ago anyway. No point in putting it off, even if the timing isn't the best.
But all the stern thoughts he could muster weren't enough to keep his pulse from racing as he approached her door.
Look at you. Like a sodding adolescent.
Growling inwardly, he knocked.

He didn't know what he expected from her—tears, perhaps, a frantic embrace, or maybe a swift slap in the face—but he got none of those things. The woman on the other side of
the door looked drawn but composed, gesturing politely for him to enter. Caught on the back foot, Rig didn't know what to say.

Vel broached the silence for him. “Welcome back, General. Or perhaps I should say welcome home. Wine?” Without waiting for an answer, she fetched a decanter and poured two glasses. “Crystal,” she said, handing him one. “I have never held anything so fine. Heavy and yet delicate, and look how it refracts the light.” She twisted the cut crystal in the firelight, demonstrating. Then she brought it to her lips. She had yet to meet his gaze.

“How are you?” Rig asked, wincing inwardly at the banality of the question.

“Well, thank you. It is good to be back on friendly soil.”

Rig wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, but this strangely withdrawn demeanour held him back. He wasn't sure how he was meant to react. Was he supposed to make the first move, or was this distance a sign of something deeper?
Might as well get the necessary out of the way first
, he decided. “Thank you for what you did for my sister and the Wolves. I know words aren't enough, but—”

“No thanks necessary, General. Your sister is a remarkable individual. And Dain Cooper too. You did well to promote him, I think. Not that my opinion on such matters counts for much.”

Rig sighed. “What is this, Vel?”

“What is what?” She took another sip of wine; Rig saw that her hand trembled slightly.

“Do you want me to leave? I wouldn't blame you if you did. I sent you into a terrible situation without so much as a scrap of information. I exploited your feelings and gave you nothing in return. You have every right to hate me, if that's what you feel.”

She laughed bitterly. “You are a fool, Riggard Black.”

“You've mentioned.”

She turned full circle, gesturing at her surroundings. “Beautiful, isn't it? Like nothing I've ever seen. Though perhaps it's not so impressive to you. I imagine your chambers at Blackhold make this look positively shabby.”

He frowned. “Before they were ransacked, you mean?”

If she noticed the tone, she ignored it. “I cannot conceive of what it must have been like to grow up amid such wealth.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for being highborn? I'm sorry if the trappings of my station offend your republican sensibilities, Daughter.”

“On the contrary. I love this glass. I love this table—Harrami, isn't it? I love these tapestries, and this carpet is like walking on a cloud.” Her voice grew more vehement as she spoke, and Rig had the distinct impression she was half a heartbeat away from hurling her wineglass into the hearth.

He approached her warily, lifting the glass from her hand before it met a terrible fate. “It's all right. You're supposed to love those things.”

“No, I'm not,” she said, dark eyes flashing. “There is no point in loving them, because I can't have them.”

Ah.
Now Rig understood. Reaching out, he brushed her cheek. “Who says?”

“Please. I am not some little girl to be enchanted by stories.”

“That's a pity, because I have a story to tell. A little over a week ago, I led a force of fifteen hundred men against five thousand Oridian soldiers. I knew I couldn't win, but I thought I could at least slow them down a little.”

“I've heard about the battle. It doesn't—”

“Just listen. I thought I could slow them down, but I was wrong. It turned out that they were mostly cavalry. More than three thousand horses. I looked across that field and saw my death. And then I saw something else. What do you think it was?”

She scowled. “Don't play games. You told me to listen, so I'm listening.”

“I saw you, Vel.” Rig took her face in his hands. “In those last moments, when I thought my time in this world was done, it was your face I saw. Your voice in my head. I might be a fool, but even I know what that means.”

“What does it mean?” she whispered.

“It means that I love you.”

She paused. Then: “Don't be ridiculous. You're a banner lord. You have responsibilities, and—”

“In case you haven't noticed, I don't give a fraction of a
damn what other people think, not anymore. I've done more than enough to restore my family's name. It's time to do something for me. Let them call me a hypocrite—they'd be right, and I don't
care
. So what about you, Daughter?” He stroked the hair back from her face. “I've never known you to back down from anything. It would be a shame if you started now.”

She gazed up at him mutely. Sensing his opening, Rig leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, lingering, more tender than passionate. The words hadn't been spoken lightly, and he wanted to make sure she knew it.

She pulled away after a moment, and he saw that her face was streaked with tears.

“What's the matter?”

“Damn you, Riggard Black. Damn you for saying this now.” She turned away from him, folding her arms tightly across her body. Then she said, “I'm the spy.”

Just like that, without any warning. Hurled from her lips out as though propelled by a supreme act of willpower.

Propelled like a fist into Rig's gut. “Impossible,” he blurted, a denial as instinctive as raising his shield to ward off a blow.

“I was the one who told Sadik about Whitefish Bridge, and Wraith's falcon. I'm the one who fed him information on your numbers and defences.”

Rig's chest felt tight. He couldn't tell if the pressure building inside him was rage or grief, or both. This couldn't be happening. It didn't make sense. “Why would you do that?”

“My brother.” Her voice caught on the word. “They have my brother.”

“Who? The enemy?”

“He was in Timra when it fell, on a pilgrimage to see the Holy Relics. They threw him in the dungeons along with the rest of the priests.”

Rig dimly recalled hearing something about that. The clergy had great influence in Andithyri; Sadik feared they would stir the populace to rebellion. He'd had them rounded up and locked away.

“They rotted there for months,” Vel went on. “Then my country declared war. Sadik's inquisitors came for the Onnani prisoners, hoping to find one of value, someone they could use as leverage. And they did. A priest whose sister was close to a
top Onnani commander.” She paused, shuddering. “They came to me in the night. They had . . .” She faltered, gazing down at her shaking hand, turning it over as though seeing it for the first time. “They showed it to me, this bloody, mangled thing . . . They said that if I didn't help them, they'd send me the rest piece by piece . . .”

Rig could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. Part of him wanted to go to her. Another part wanted to call the guards. He did neither, standing there like a dark, glowering statue.

Vel turned to face him. She wore the most extraordinary expression, fierce and yet pleading, eyes lit with both pride and pain. “I gave him nothing of value after Whitefish Bridge. Once I realised you knew there was a spy, I saw my chance to hurt Sadik even as I helped my brother. I deliberately walked into every snare you set. I knew I was feeding the Warlord misinformation. I
rejoiced
in it. And all the while, I did everything I could to help you. It was Sadik who bade me gather intelligence on the Resistance. I did as he asked. But it was you who reaped the fruits of that reconnaissance, while Sadik got only a pack of lies.”