The Bloodsworn (31 page)

It was true, every word; Rig knew because it was the only way any of it made sense. He'd already remarked to Wright that the spy had done no real damage, and indeed had helped their cause—inadvertently, he'd assumed. Vel had had every opportunity to destroy him, but she hadn't, which was why he'd ruled her out as a suspect. More than that, she'd been the one to give them Wraith and the Resistance. Who'd led Alix to Rodrik, and saved his sister's life.

True, every word. But not good enough. She'd lied to his face.
In his bed.
How could he trust anything that had passed between them?

She saw it in his eyes. “I told myself you could forgive me, that we could get past this somehow. I wanted so badly for that to be true, but deep down I always knew it was a lie. You said it yourself—trust, once lost, can never be rebuilt.”

Rig shook his head. He didn't dare speak. He had no idea what might come out.

“I'm sorry,” Vel said. “Not for the spying—I did what I had to, to save my brother's life—but for the rest. I knew from the moment I saw you that day on the road . . . Standing there like
some kind of wild animal, streaming wet and covered in blood, and yet you spoke with a highborn accent, all wit and easy self-assurance . . .” A smile touched her lips, fleeting and fragile. “But when I found out who you were, I should have left well enough alone. I had all the intelligence I needed from Commander Wright—I need never have put myself in your path. But as you said, I rarely back down from anything.” Bitterly, she added, “Perhaps I wear the wrong robes after all. I let Ardin take hold of me, even though Eldora whispered that I was a fool.”

Even now, as she spoke of her regret, the fierceness never wavered. Her beauty in the firelight pierced Rig to his soul. It hurt worse than he ever would have thought possible.

All he'd wanted, all he'd dreamed about for weeks on end, was gathering Vel in his arms and telling her that he loved her, spending one last night of passion together before he met his end on the battlefield. He was going to die anyway; maybe it shouldn't have mattered that she was the spy. But it did. In that moment, it mattered more than the ache in his chest, more than the beauty in front of him, more than the stirring of desire he felt even now.

Wordlessly, Rig turned and left the room.

*   *   *

“It's late,” Alix said. “You should turn in.”

“As should you,” Erik replied, his quill scratching across the parchment. Glancing up, he added, “both of you.” Liam was slumped in the chair across from him, looking exhausted. “Go ahead, you two—I'll only be a few moments longer.”

Nodding, Alix started toward the door. “Coming?” she asked Liam.

“Soon. There's something I wanted to talk to Erik about. You go on.”

There was a stretch of silence, awkward enough that Erik looked up from his writing. Alix hovered by the door, gazing at the back of her husband's head with an almost pleading expression. She hesitated a moment longer, then slipped through the door and closed it behind her.

Erik sighed inwardly. Whatever stood between them, it was growing like a cancer. Setting his quill aside, he said, “What is it you wanted to speak about?”

“Hmm?” His brother looked up distractedly.

“A moment ago, you told Alix you wanted to speak with me.”

“Oh, right. I was, you know . . . just wondering how you're doing.”

“Much better, thank you. I still have some difficulty sleeping.”
As do you, from the look of things.

“How are the nightmares?”

Erik glanced away. As far as he had come, he still was not ready to discuss his nightmares—least of all with Liam, who featured so horribly in all of them. “At least they only plague me in sleep now.” For the most part, at least. Tom still dropped round from time to time to remind Erik what a reckless, sentimental decision he'd made in refusing to bloodbind his enemies. But the hallucinations were less frequent now, and he was confident that Tom would soon fade away altogether. Or if not altogether, at least from view; the voice of his self-doubt, Erik suspected, would forever be Tom's.

“Well, if it helps,” Liam said, “you look worlds better. Like your old self, really.”

Erik grunted sceptically. “And what about you, brother? How have you been sleeping?”

“Not great,” Liam admitted, raking his fingers through his ever-dishevelled hair. “Can't stop my thoughts from churning round, you know? Tossing and turning, keeping Allie awake.”

“I doubt your tossing and turning is what's keeping Alix awake. She is having troubled thoughts of her own, from the look of her.”

“Could be.” Liam's gaze fell to his lap.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No offence, Erik, but you're the last person I want to talk about it with.”

Erik sighed.
Just as I thought.
It had been too much to hope that the three of them could put the past behind them so easily. Just one more way in which he had been naïve.

Choosing his words carefully, Erik said, “The other day you gave me some good advice, brother, and now I'm going to return the favour. I've thought a lot about what you said. It means more to me than you know that you would look up to me, and I can only hope to prove worthy of that regard. But I cannot help thinking that the reason you look up to me so is that you consistently sell yourself short.”

Liam groaned as if to say,
Not this again
. He started to interrupt, but Erik held up a hand.

“Let me finish. You say that filling my boots was the hardest thing you've ever done. But I wonder, have you actually reflected on what you accomplished?”

“What did I accomplish?” Liam gestured irritably at the papers on Erik's desk. “I wrote some letters. I had dinner with the Onnani ambassador. I had endless meetings with the council.”

“You
governed
. Much of what you did was routine, yes. And some of it was anything but. You began your tenure with what must have been the most difficult decision of your life.”

“What, you mean the whole treason thing?”

Erik ignored that. “You made another hard choice, at considerable risk to yourself, in ordering the evacuation of the city—an evacuation that proceeded smoothly due to the confidence the people held in you, and the way you inspired them. And finally”—Erik arched an eyebrow pointedly—“you put up with Albern Highmount for the better part of a month without killing him.”

Liam smiled. “That was the toughest part, no question.”

Sobering, Erik went on, “You
did
fill my boots, Liam, admirably. For that you have not only my thanks, but my respect. You also have the respect of those around you, though you seem not to be aware of it. The Wolves, especially, are fiercely loyal to you.”

“Soldiers,” Liam said dismissively.

“Is a soldier's esteem worth less than a courtier's? Rig would have something to say about that, I'll warrant, as would Rona Brown.”

Liam flushed fiercely. Erik had touched a nerve, though he was not quite sure how. “I appreciate you saying all this,” Liam said, “but it's really not necessary.”

“I disagree. I've watched you and Alix over the past few days. I see the way you look at each other.”

Liam scowled. “I don't think that's any of your—”

“But it is, Liam, because I've a good idea what lies between you.”
Who lies between you
, he might have said. He had done his best to vacate that space a long time ago, but apparently it had not been enough. His ghost lingered, as much a presence for his brother as Tom was for Erik. Both of them had conjured
their brothers as the embodiment of their own insecurities. The only difference was that Erik knew his for an illusion. “You and I are not the same,” he said, “but that doesn't mean we aren't equals.”

“I know that.”

Erik shook his head. “Not good enough. Listen to me, Liam. There is nothing standing between you and Alix except your own self-doubt. It is a poison, and you alone can overcome it. If you don't, it will destroy your marriage.”

He expected anger. A flare of resentment similar to the one he'd endured that day in the rose garden, when he had told Liam he would stand aside. But Liam just wilted in his chair, dropping his head into his hand. “I love her so much.”

“That's the easy part. Now you need to let her love you.”

So saying, Erik rose and slipped quietly out of the room, leaving his brother alone with his ghost.

“T
he Brownlands are aflame,” Rig said.

Erik's hands balled into fists on the desk. Alix could almost feel the wave of desperation rolling over him. “Where are they now?”

“South of the Arrowhead. They're burning every field they come across.”

“The breadbasket of Alden,” Highmount said gravely. “There will be famine.”

“Never mind the fields!” Rona Brown snapped. “They're butchering my people!”

“Just as he did at Raynesford.” Rig's eyes burned. He wanted vengeance as badly as Rona.

“If we ride out, it will be just what Sadik wants.” Alix knew she was stating the obvious, but someone had to. “He'll crush us in the open field.”

“Unless I missed something,” Liam said, “he'll crush us behind these walls too. There's no avoiding the crushing.”

Highmount
tsk
ed. “The unlikelihood of our success is no reason to race to our doom.”

All eyes shifted to Erik. The king's gaze was fixed in the middle distance somewhere, as though staring at something
only he could see. After a stretch of silence, his expression hardened. “No. Liam is right. A sliver of a chance is not enough to justify sacrificing thousands of lives. It's not just those he massacres now, but those who will die the slow death of starvation. If we are to be defeated, it will be in defence of the people, not cowering behind these broken walls. Let the people's last memory of the Kingdom of Alden be a proud one. It may help them through the hard times to come.”

Or make them all the more bitter.
Alix kept the thought to herself.

“Good,” Rig said, “now that's settled . . .” Unfurling a map, he swept it across the table. “I propose we make our stand here.” He dropped a finger just southeast of Brownhold. “With the Arrowhead and the hills protecting our flanks, Sadik will be forced to meet us head on, and we'll have the advantage in elevation. He'll have to run a gauntlet of archers just to get to our front lines.”

“Are you sure?” asked Raibert Green. “What's to stop him bypassing us altogether and taking the Imperial Road straight to Erroman?”

“Not Sadik,” Rig said, staring at the map so fiercely that Alix half expected it to burst into flame. “Once he finds out where we are, he won't be able to resist. It's not Erroman he wants, it's total victory. Knowing that Alden's king and her commander general are both alive and in the field will feel like unfinished business.”

“If this is going to work,” Liam said, “we'll need to get into position before Sadik realises what we're up to.”

Rig nodded. “Forced march. We can rest when we get there.”

“It's decided then,” Erik said. “We march first thing in the morning.” Glancing around the table, he added, “If anyone has farewells to make, I suggest you do it now.”

Alix had none. Nearly everyone she loved in this world either was in this room or would meet her on the battlefield. The same went for Liam, and probably even Erik. Rig, though, had someone to say good-bye to—or so she thought, but her brother merely snatched his map from the table and stalked off to make his preparations.
Something must have happened with Vel.
The thought saddened her. She doubted the two of them would have had much of a future together, but even so, the
timing could hardly be worse. Alix knew only too well what it was like to carry a weight like that into battle.

Dawn came too soon. They assembled in the courtyard: White, Black, Brown, Green, Gold, and Grey. Though Lord Gold was too ancient to fight, he would ride alongside the others, joined by his grandson, Garek. The Greys, meanwhile, were represented as ever by Lady Sirin. In place of her customary silk, however, she wore full armour, probably for the first time since her King's Service. The seconds, Dain and Ide and Pollard, sat behind their respective commanders. Kerta would be waiting for them outside the gates, in command of the scouts. Even Rudi was coming along, since Liam reckoned the wolfhound was “good for at least a throat or two.”

Vel was in the courtyard too. Alix was momentarily surprised, until she remembered that the priestess was attached to the Onnani battalion. The older man by her side, Alix presumed, must be Battalion Commander Wright. He'd survived the attack on the fort, acting as Rollin's second to lead the Kingswords in retreat. It must have been a pleasant surprise for him to find his spiritual guide waiting in Erroman. The priestess didn't acknowledge Alix's gaze, or anyone else's for that matter, sitting her horse as rigidly as if she'd been lashed onto it.

“That's everyone then?” Erik asked, twisting in his saddle.

“Everyone,” Rig confirmed curtly.

Erik paused, his gaze travelling up the wall of the keep as though in silent farewell. “All right then,” he said. “It's time.”

It would be two days' hard marching with minimal rest, but Alix was glad of it. The last thing she wanted was more time to contemplate their doom. As it was, the day unfurled like a scribe's scroll, offering memory after memory of all they had gone through to reach this point.
The longest year and a half of my life
, she thought. Indeed, it almost felt as if her whole life had been squeezed into that brief period, and everything that came before but a dream. She scarcely recognised herself as the girl she'd once been. Looking over at the men she loved one by one, she knew that they were different too. Erik was wiser. Liam subtler. Rig had grown so much harder. As for herself, she had learned that her own instincts were both her greatest gift and her most dangerous enemy. She couldn't say if they were better for it, any of them, but one thing was certain: They
were warriors all, and if death awaited them on the battlefield, then it was as fitting an end as any.

The sun had begun to set when Liam dropped his horse back to ride alongside her. They hadn't spoken more than a few words since the day before. Long periods of silence had grown frequent between them, but yesterday had been unusually sparse, especially after his talk with Erik. Whatever they had spoken about, Liam was still wrestling with it. All of them, it seemed, had extra baggage to carry into battle.

“How are you holding up?” he asked in an undertone.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. I think that might be what's happening to me.”

“You're not going to die, Allie,” he said, low but vehement. “We're going to have a long and happy life together, you and I. We're going to make babies and grandbabies and die old and loved.”

She looked over at him. “Do you really believe that?”

“I have to. I have to believe I'll be given a chance to fix this. To fix us.”

Alix reached out and took his hand. “Even if you don't die old, you'll die loved.”

“Nobody's dying. We have a plan. It's a good plan.”

It
was
a good plan. Just not as good as Sadik's.

Alix knew it the moment she saw the dust swirling ahead of them, the telltale flash of golden hair beneath the helm of an approaching rider. Kerta was pounding up the road from the south, returning from her scouting position a few miles ahead. Rig threw his arm in the air and the column came to a halt.

“He's waiting for us, Your Majesty,” Kerta reported once she'd caught her breath. Pointing, she said, “We can see the tents from the top of that rise.”

Erik paled. “How is that possible? He was supposed to be south of the Arrowhead!”

“He must have crossed the river,” Rona said. “There's a ford not far from where it empties into the lake.”

“That puts him between us and the only source of water,” Liam said grimly. “We'll have to change course.”

Erik swore viciously. “How did the Warlord know we were—?”

“He has excellent spies,” Rig said, and there was an extra hint of bitterness there that Alix didn't fully understand.

“Maybe,” she said. “Or he just outsmarted us. If his maps are good enough, he would have known the hills north of the Arrowhead were an ideal place for us to sink our spears. We already knew he was trying to goad us into the field—is it so hard to imagine he'd guess the place we would choose?”

“You give him too much credit,” Albern Highmount opined.

“No,” Rig said, “she's right. He didn't become the Warlord by making compelling speeches.” Shaking his head, he added, “I'm sorry, Erik. Of all the moments to let you down—”

“We need solutions, General. What are our options?”

“None but to change course. We need water.”

Erik turned to Rona. “Nearest source, Lady Brown?”

“I'm sorry, sire, but aside from the Arrowhead and its river . . .”

“Fork Lake,” said a new voice. Sirin Grey walked her courser forward. “On the western border of the Greylands. It's very small, but it should serve.”

“How far?” Rig asked.

“A day's ride.”

He scratched his beard roughly. “Terrain?”

“Farmlands. Relatively flat, with some sparse stands of trees.”

Swearing under his breath, Rig said, “It'll have to do.”

They swung west, quitting the Imperial Road and plunging into fields high with winter wheat. Almost immediately, the infantry began falling behind, bogged down by the long grasses and uneven ground.
The Warlord will have planned this too
, Alix thought.
He knew we would spot him and be forced to change course. He knew we would head for water. He's trying to separate the infantry from the cavalry.

Her theory was confirmed the next morning, when the raiding began.

Enemy archers on horseback began harrying the rear lines. They lacked the grace and skill of Rig's Harrami-trained horse archers, but they succeeded in slowing the march still further, drawing out the column until it was dangerously vulnerable. Liam was obliged to pull the Wolves out of line repeatedly to chase off the raiders. By the time night fell, the column had become so scattered that Rig feared a night raid
would end them. He was forced to call a halt, though they were still more than a day's ride from Fork Lake.

“The trap is sprung,” Highmount said gravely as the war council sat clustered around the table in Erik's pavilion. “We should have remained behind our walls.”

Erik was in no mood for
I-told-you-so
. “And then what, Chancellor? Watch him cut Alden's throat and let her bleed to death? No, we were right to ride out. Our mistake was in underestimating the Warlord's cunning.”

“
My
mistake,” Rig said, reminding Alix very much of the late Arran Green.

“Can we assume Sadik will continue to march through the night?” Erik asked.

Rig nodded. “He'll be on us by morning.”

“So we make our stand here,” Rona said, with only the faintest quaver in her voice.

“Or,” said Highmount, “we retreat and return to Erroman.”

“It pains me to admit it, Your Majesty,” said Raibert Green, “but the chancellor may be right. It was a good plan, but now that it is foiled, perhaps the walls are indeed our best option.”

“They are our only option,” Highmount declared.

Rig's expression darkened. “Stick to your areas of competence, old man.” To Erik, he said, “Retreating now is pointless.”

“Give me an alternative, then.”

“Attack. At dawn.”

Highmount snorted. “As bold as a Black,” he said, at great peril to his health. Fortunately for him, Rig was too focused on Erik to be bothered with the chancellor.

“It could work,” said Alix, “if we strike before Sadik has a chance to organise.”

“Won't he anticipate that?” Rona asked. “With due respect, General, it would hardly be an unexpected move coming from you. What if the Warlord is ready for it?”

“He might anticipate it, but that's not the same as being ready. He'll just be coming off the march; he won't have time to organise himself properly, not if we hit him early enough. The only advantage we've got is a few hours' head start. We'd be fools not to use it.”

Erik considered for a moment in silence, elbows on the
table, fingers knotted before him. “What are our chances of success?”

“Slim,” Rig said bluntly.

“And if we retreat?”

“Slightly less slim,” Liam said, “but if we're weighing our options, the difference is a question of pebbles rather than stones. I'd rather fight than run.”

“Agreed,” said Rig.

“I concur,” said Rona Brown.

Erik turned to Raibert Green. “My lord?”

“I am with you whatever you decide, sire. There are no good options here; perhaps the best we can hope for is to die with honour.”

Erik's gaze skipped over Highmount—he knew what the chancellor thought—to land on Alix. “That leaves you, Captain. What say you?”