The Twelve Kingdoms (20 page)

No more being multiply weighted. A consolidated, single purpose would see me through. Gain the border to Annfwn without casualties and confer with Andi to set the next course of action.

Harlan could entertain himself with his pursuit. I had more important things to do.

We caught up to the others by early evening. They'd paused to eat, roasting a couple of deer the archers had brought down. Good timing, as we could have our fill and carry the scraps with us on the morrow. Hunting opportunities on the pass itself would be scarce.

“Captain!” Marskal clapped his fist over his heart in the Hawks' salute, then nodded at Harlan. “Scouts report no trouble. No sign of anything untoward, at all.”

I studied the steeply rising hills, the peaks sharply jagged, with the cleft where the pass ran through. “Odd.”

“We thought so, too. Perhaps we'll see that change tomorrow, as we come closer to the ascent.”

“Keep the scouts on a short leash. I don't want anyone going up the pass too far ahead of the main company.” I gave Harlan a pointed look and swung down from the saddle. “That goes for your men, too.”

“So be it.” He relayed the order as he handed off his horse. “Why?”

I appreciated that he obeyed first and asked second. We made our way to the campfire, our mingled guard greeting us as usual. No smirks or sidelong looks as I'd dreaded. Either Harlan was wrong and no one suspected a thing, or good discipline won out.

“Though we're some distance from the actual border, the Tala should be tracking our approach by now. They like to play tricks to make us uneasy—spooking the horses, stealing supplies. All part of a strategy to turn casual interlopers away. It will get more intense as we get closer, but I'm surprised the scouts have encountered nothing yet.”

“Perhaps your sister eases the way for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And me with a small army of mercenaries, along with my elite guard? I don't think so. Rayfe is no fool, even if Andi would assume my visit to be affectionate rather than aggressive.”

“And is it?”

“That all depends on what they know of Amelia and the babies.”

While Harlan consulted with his lieutenants, I found Dafne settled under a pine tree on a rise, surrounded by books and scrolls. She gave me a cautious smile as I approached.

“How much trouble am I in?”

“Unfortunately I have no prison cell handy.”

“Lucky for me. I apologize, however, for being insubordinate. Marskal took me to task—it hadn't occurred to me to see it that way.”

I sat beside her and looked out over the camp. “You're not a soldier, Lady Mailloux. I don't expect you to behave as one.”

She winced. “That's almost worse than an actual reprimand.”

“Just be wary of drugging me insensible and leaving me with strange men in the future, yes?”

“Since I'm not a soldier, I'll argue there. Captain Harlan is not a strange man. He's sworn to protect you. And cares about you beyond that.”

“He has a business contract to do so. Not the same thing.”

“I'm not sure I agree.”

“It doesn't bear debate. Have you found out anything about our mutual and suspicious absentmindedness about certain key personnel?”

“I have.” She unrolled a scroll I hadn't read and ran her finger down the crabbed lines.

“Is that in Dasnarian?”

“No, thankfully. I'm still limping along in their language, though a number of the Vervaldr are literate and have been helpful.”

“You haven't shown them exactly what you're researching, have you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Give me more credit than that. I've pretended to an interest in Dasnarian marriage customs, playing my spinster card. Alas, though no man in the Twelve will have me, perhaps I can snare a foreigner.” She sighed dramatically and batted her eyelashes.

I snorted. “From what I hear, you wouldn't much care for life among them.”

“From what I've read, too. No, this, Your Highness, is Old Elcinean—pre–Common Tongue—and is far more forthcoming on the subject of the Practitioners of Deyrr than any of the Dasnarian texts. In fact, you've already seen pretty much everything there is to see there. Either what was in our library is heavily edited or the Dasnarians themselves have little information.”

“The mercenary captain indicated as much. Most of his insights alluded to rumors and other tall stories.”

She glanced at me, seeming about to say something, but simply turned her attention to the scroll. “It says here that an invading force of Dasnarians arrived in Elcinea several hundred years ago. Their ranks included—get this, ‘fair-haired giants with bloodthirsty broadswords'—and a group of wizards, mostly female, who wore black cloaks and who could cloud the mind.”

“Anything more specific about this mind-clouding business?” I easily picked out my personal fair-haired giant moving among the troops. As if feeling my gaze, he looked up, touching the backs of two fingers to his forehead. I hadn't observed him exchanging that particular salute with his men, only directed toward me. If it meant something flirtatious, we'd have to discuss. I refused to acknowledge the gesture, as always, and he grinned.

Cocky son of Danu that he was.

Dafne cleared her throat. “Nothing exact, no. But there
is
mention of sailing ships returning and the captains asking to report to people who were subsequently discovered to have disappeared.”

“And no one noticed until that moment.”

“Exactly.”

“Interesting.”

“I thought so, too.”

I mulled it over. “So if there is some sort of magic at work, it's localized. And affects mainly active memory. You thought of Lady Zevondeth when you read a mention of her.”

“Do you think Illyria is doing this?”

“Entirely possible.” Relief from one worry at least flooded through me. My father wasn't unstable, just bespelled in some way. “And one convenient aspect of magic workers is that they're as mortal as any of us.”

“But she's the King's fiancée.”

“Not if I kill her.”

Dafne blanched. “You don't mean to.”

“I do.”

“Have you considered how King Uorsin might retaliate?”

She seemed frightened, so I sought to reassure her. “He will be initially angry, no doubt, but I truly believe her sorcery is to blame for his current behavior. Once the cloud of her dark magic has cleared, he'll return to being the High King we know and love.”

“And if he doesn't?” she demanded. Not fear but anger. “Will you allow him to destroy you?”

I studied her, uncertain where the anger came from. “My fate is unimportant.”

“No, Ursula—that's where you are so thrice-damned wrong. King Uorsin is not more important than you are. Why can't you see that?”

“I value your advice, librarian.” I measured the words slowly, managing the anger that wanted to rise to match hers. The smells of roasting meat wafted up from the camp below, strangely unappealing to my sour gut. “And I want you to be able to speak frankly to me. Therefore, I won't censure you for your words. Be wary, though, of encouraging me to treason.”

“What if that way leads to your death?”

“Then so be it. I would never betray my King to save my own life.”

“I don't understand how you can think this way.”

I glanced at her, gripped her shoulder. “Don't fret so. Danu will guide my sword.”

“I can only pray she does,” Dafne muttered, gathered her scrolls and took herself off.

It wasn't something that bore examining. Being loyal to the King formed the core of who I had to be. It didn't bear thinking that I could have been wrong in this, all these years. It would mean Salena let him destroy her year by slow year for nothing. That I had let him do the same to me, not because he was more important and above the law, but out of blind cowardice.

It made me ill to contemplate what the true answer might be.

A
fter we put out the cooking fires and everyone began to settle in for the night, I sought out Harlan as he returned from checking with our watch outposts. “I need to consult with you a moment.”

His pleased smile flashed white in the rising moonlight and he ran a hand down my arm, on the side away from our people. “I hoped you'd seek me out.”

“Not like that.” I stepped out of reach. “But I do have several things to discuss.”

“As you command,” he replied, not at all daunted. Then he turned and began walking into the trees.

Setting my teeth, I lengthened my stride to catch up. “Where are you going?”

He lifted a shoulder, let it fall, and glanced over it at me, still moving. “You could have spoken with me publicly at the campfire. I assume you prefer this conversation to be private.”

We could have been out of earshot and still in public view and well he knew it. He moved behind a dense thicket of trees, deft and silent, despite his bulk. I followed, careful to stay well back.

Not careful enough, because he snagged me with an arm around my waist, pulling me against him and kissing me in that spot below my ear. I meant to push off, had my hands in place, but that delicious melting sensation had me hesitating, then lifting my chin and humming a little before I got hold of myself.

“Let me go.”

“Mmm,” he rumbled. “I missed you.”

“Nonsense. You've been with me all day.”

“It's not the same.”

“Well, stop it anyway. I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.” He spoke against my throat, mouth moving down the thin skin covering the vulnerable artery there. My brain fogged and I nearly forgot the actual reason I'd sought him out. Not for this.

I pushed off, taking a step back, glad that years of training kept me steadier than my head would have.

“Illyria.”

“Ah.” He leaned back against a tree, folding his arms. “That name will dampen any man's ardor.”

“We never discussed what happened the other night at Ordnung.”

“No. I didn't think you cared to.”

“I still don't, but we must. First, let's discuss your loyalty.”

“Do you have reason to question it?” He sounded irritated. Good.

“You know I don't believe a contract equates to true loyalty.”

“And you know I believe a contract does far more to guarantee loyalty than fickle emotion.”

I nodded, confirming to myself. “If it came down to a test between the terms of the contract and protecting a fellow Dasnarian—what would you do?”

He didn't move, but something about his posture told me he'd come to full attention. “What are you saying?”

“Dafne uncovered some information—from our texts, ones you wouldn't have seen—that indicates Illyria may have the ability to change how we think. I believe she made me forget about checking in with Lord Percy, even about his existence entirely, as well as other people.”

He didn't comment, so I forged on.

“If she can do that, then the King's behavior can be ascribed to more such witchcraft. Freeing him of her influence may require her death. I want to know—if I kill her, will that destroy her spells? What other repercussions might there be? She's not in your contract, but what of your personal feelings? What of any political connections she might have?”

Again, Harlan let the silence drag out. This time, I waited on his answer. Finally he sighed. “Let me ask you something, Ursula.”

“I'd prefer you answered my questions.”

“Too bad. I'll follow your commands, as I've repeatedly demonstrated, but this is just the two of us—private, as you wished. Tell me this. Were you surprised that the King struck you, either time?”

“He's never hit me in court like that before.” Never anything I hadn't been able to conceal from my sisters, disguised as fairly earned bruises from training.

“That's not what I asked you.”

“Of course not.” My stomach, still unsettled from my earlier thoughts, clenched that Harlan brought up exactly that. Danu taught that coincidences were patterns not yet made clear. “He's a warrior to the core and a sailor before it. Those aren't gentle professions. They require strength and mettle—qualities his heir must also possess. I've met the flat of his hand—or his blade—many times. It's to be expected. To make me strong.”

“I've never struck anyone, man or woman, outside of combat. It's not expected.
You
should not expect that. It doesn't make people strong—it grinds them down.”

“We're getting sidetracked and you're not answering my questions.”

“I'm questioning your fundamental assumption. What if the High King's behavior is not due to Illyria's influence? It's my understanding he's executed people for little reason before. Along with torture, imprisonment, and various other excesses.”

“Never in front of the whole court at dinner.”

“Merely an escalation. And I haven't mentioned how he's treated you and his other daughters.”

“What happened to your contractual loyalty?” I accused. “It's remarkably flexible, it seems.”

“I'm loyal to the representative of the High Throne,” he returned in a quiet tone.

“As am I—the High Throne is Uorsin and he is the High Throne. It's not my place, or yours, to pass judgment on him.”

“You're thick skulled is what you are.” He sounded uncharacteristically impatient, an echo of Dafne's anger. “Can you kill her? I have no doubt you possess the skill. Would anyone in Dasnaria, including the Temple of Deyrr, seek to avenge her? Possibly. Will her death change anything? Probably, but not what you hope it will.”

“That's somewhat helpful.” Something to work with, anyway.

“Ursula, even the best monarch can go bad. Power corrupts.”

I wasn't having that conversation. “What do you know of it?”

“More than you think.”

Determined to keep on track, I ignored the bait. “I'm focusing on Illyria's corruption first. You should know what we'll face as we ascend the pass tomorrow. It's very likely we'll hit foul weather at the barrier—and we won't be able to cross into Annfwn. I'd like to leave a contingent here and at the base of the trail, before it narrows. Only a small party should attempt the border.”

“All right. But I will be with the group that ascends.”

“I think it would be more strategic if—”

“You can order me to stay behind, but I'll just follow.”

“So much for you abiding by my commands.”

“That's the upside of flexible loyalty—it allows me to justify many decisions.”

“I don't understand you, Captain. Loyalty cannot be flexible.” I had to unclench my jaw to continue. “Fine. But I cannot control whether you can cross the border. You might find yourself awaiting my return for some time.”

“I don't mind waiting.” His voice held an intimate reminder of his other promises, which I also ignored. “Is that everything you wished to discuss, Your Highness?”

“Yes. Thank you.” I turned to go, but he stepped up behind me, quick and deadly silent. Should we ever truly cross blades, I'd have to be careful never to turn my back to him. He enfolded me, big arms around my waist, and pulled me against him, mouth pressed hot to the back of my neck.

“Stay awhile,” he coaxed.

“I can't.”

“You're riddled with worry and tension. Let me melt you a little.”

“I thought we weren't doing this.”

“Just a bit of love play. Let me tempt you.”

“I don't want this.” I steeled myself against the slow blurring, reaching for that place of clear determination.

“Why not?”

I groped to remember, my mind already clouding with the pure pleasure of his touch. “It's distracting.”

“Oh, yes.” Harlan practically purred his agreement, stroking down my hips, teeth nibbling the muscle at the juncture of my neck, so that I wanted to tip my head and purr also. “Deliciously so.”

There I was, melting again. This was why Danu's priestesses took vows of chastity. Not out of a lack of interest, but because the desire could become so overwhelming. Taking away good sense and resolve. A vow served to shore up one's will when temptation presented itself. I'd never thought I'd need that kind of help, but I could admit to it. Learn from my mistakes.

If I didn't have my willpower, I had nothing. Single focus.

No more indulging.

“I'm not doing this.” Breaking his hold—albeit not difficult, but I did it with a bit of satisfying force—I stepped well out of his reach. “No more.”

“All right,” he agreed. “All you have to do is tell me to stop.”

“Well, I'm telling you. Not for just now, but for always. No more,” I repeated, cementing the promise to myself and Danu.

“What are you saying?” His voice had gone flat.

“A final no. I'm not doing this. Leave me alone, Harlan. I can't afford any distractions. Put a hand on me again and I'll cut it off.”

He was silent a long time. So long that I nearly caved and said something more, instead of waiting him out as my ultimatum required. Any good negotiation depended on holding to one's lines in the sand.

“What changed?” he finally threw out. A gauntlet between us.

“Nothing.” I kept my voice even, proud of myself. “I considered your proposition and have decided against it.”

“This isn't a negotiation on water rights, Ursula.” He grated out the words.

“The principle is the same. You made an offer—repeatedly and with various attempts to sweeten the deal—and I've given it fair thought, weighed the options, and have decided against it.”

He cursed, something that sounded most foul in Dasnarian. “You've done nothing fairly. You refuse to speak honestly with me, to give me the least measure of your trust. You stand there and lie to me about having considered what I've offered you—someone who will love you without reserve or judgment—and you blithely claim you feel nothing even while your blood pours hot in your veins from my mouth on you.”

“There's more to life than sex. All of it more important.”

“You don't know that because you've never had it. No”—his voice shot out of the dimness—“don't you dare claim that you have, because whatever happened to you had nothing to do with love or desire or real intimacy between two people. You're just afraid and dressing it up as something else. You deny yourself the least happiness out of blind adherence to some ideal that doesn't exist.”

His words stung, far more than they should have. Danu! Such a viciously targeted strike. He'd opened the way to this wound, breaking the scar tissue with his questions, flattery, and attention. A weapon so finely honed I'd never felt it going in. I'd been fine, all of that squarely in the past. Now he'd made that old injury seep with blood and pus once more. With pain. I nearly staggered from the ache. Of course that scared me. I couldn't keep bleeding like this.

“Fine. I am afraid. You called me fearless and you were wrong about that, also.”

“Also?”

“You thought you could cozen and seduce me. It will never happen.”

“Ah. I understand. I never figured you for a coward, Ursula.”

“Think what you like. I'm not interested in having the good opinion of a mercenary.” I hauled myself back, almost regretting that last attack. A clean slice, meant to hurt enough to end this dance between us once and for all.

He absorbed the strike silently, a warrior to the end.

“Be ready to ride out in the morning,” I said, and turned to go.

“Ursula,” he called after me.

Unwilling, I stopped, looked over my shoulder into the shadows. “What?”

“Do you realize that's the first time you've used my name? And you did it to break my heart.”

I steeled mine. “Then you know I mean it.” With that, I strode off to take first watch. He would get over it soon enough.

Better now than later.

We packed up to leave at first light, the squad I'd picked to establish a camp at the base of the pass to await us moving more quickly than the ones resituating to wait us out in this spot.

“Your Highness?”

I raised an eyebrow at Dafne. “This must be serious if you're using my title.”

She actually flushed lightly, bearing out my suspicion. “I'd like to ask a favor.”

“I'm not taking any more of your potions—I slept fine,” I told her, though I hadn't. After first watch, I'd lain awake, alternately missing the reassuring warm bulk of Harlan's body and fuming over his accusations. Ridiculous. All my life I'd slept alone, and I sleep next to a man one night and find some lonely part of myself longing to have it again. I'd made a choice I knew to be the right one, then spent a sleepless night dissecting our argument. All the ways he'd muddled me.