Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) (21 page)

“Yes, forgive me as well, Mother.” Sloane shot a glance at Sacha.

Arece smiled at her daughters. “That’s better. Now, don’t forget about your cousins. They will need tending, especially Marcella.”

Sacha snorted and a wide grin made its way across Sloane’s face, the tension of moments before forgotten in the face of Marcella’s reputation. “It will be our solemn duty to keep her out of trouble,” said Sloane, putting an arm around her sister.

“She’s
almost
as much trouble as
I
am.” Sacha pressed the fingers of her right hand into her breast, and gave her mother an exaggerated look of exasperation. “You ask the impossible!”

“You both will manage.”

Horns sounded in the courtyard.

Tears welled in Arece’s eyes. “Forgive
me
daughters, for my weakness. I will miss you both, more than you can possibly imagine.” She hugged them as tightly as she could. “Be strong.”

“Your cousin is definitely a handful, Princess.” Kinsey looked over his shoulder at Marcella. She lounged on one of the wagons with her other relatives and every so often glanced his way.

Princess Sloane laughed. “Forgive her, Master Kinsey. She is a harmless flirt.”

“You women of Pelos have a very different definition of ‘harmless flirting.’ If we were in Basinia, Marcella and I would be considered a courting pair.”

The princess tossed her head back and laughed even louder. “Just wait, you may find yourself married yet, Master Kinsey.”

His brown eyes grew wide. “Oh, no, Princess. That’s not the life for me. Well, not yet, at least.” Marcella was a beautiful girl, no doubt, and lively to boot, but Kinsey liked his independence. Besides, there was much more of Orundal to see before he settled down. If ever.

“I cannot say the same, even though I feel it. The choices in that matter were never really mine.” Her bright face waned slightly with melancholy.

“Forgive me, Princess. I didn’t mean—”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “No, Master Kinsey. You carry no blame for this.”

Despite her pardon, Kinsey still felt like a heel for his words. He cast about for a new subject, but every topic seemed to lead back to the purpose of their trip. The princess seemed content to ride in introspection, however, and so they continued on in silence.

He listened to the morning gales’ chirping and the creaking of the wagons trailing behind them. Fields of green stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted here and there with large copses of oak trees, surrounding pockets of water created by the land draining to the Tanglevine. The sky was crystal clear and seemed more vast than the heavens.

The southern route to Waterfall Citadel was just as picturesque as the northern one in its own way, though much easier to traverse. The escort had been traveling for two weeks since its departure from Pelos, and so far the trip had been blessedly quiet. By the following day they would be well within Basinian borders, but even with dozens of Pelosian soldiers at his back, Kinsey felt as if he were holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable disaster.

“What is he like?” The princess broke the silence, shifting in her saddle. “The prince, I mean.”

“A fair man I suppose. I don’t really know him.”

She looked at him in mild disapproval. “Surely you have a better idea of what he’s like than that? He governs your country, for Eos’ sake, and you live in the capital city.”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s not as if we have dinners together.”

Sloane pinched her lips together, lapsing again into silence.

Kinsey felt the beginnings of a headache coming on and rubbed the back of his neck. There had to be something that might suit the princess’s curiosity. “He’s a decent man,” he ventured, “and he’s good to his people and his family. I don’t know what else I can say.”

Her rigid posture eased a bit, but she turned her head, almost shyly. “Is he... an attractive man?”

Biting his tongue, he tried not to laugh. The poor girl was serious, and it wouldn’t do for him to make light of it. He cleared his throat. “By human standards, I’d say yes.”

She let out a long breath. “Thank Eos.”

Kinsey couldn’t help but chuckle at the frankness in her response. Apparently, being royal didn’t make her so different from common folk when it came to certain things.

“Laugh if you will, Master Kinsey. At least you have a choice in who you wed.”

“I am sorry, Princess.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I truly meant no harm. I just thought that his appearance would be the least of your worries.”

She frowned. “I suppose you’re right. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. But there are far worse things than ugliness.”

Sloane nodded. “True.”

Kinsey looked back along their caravan line and caught sight of the royal coach. The carriage’s tall, dark wooden walls were easy to spot as it jostled back and forth along the pitted roadway. “What I truly worry about is your sister.” He grinned, glad for an opportunity to change the topic. “She’s been trapped in that glorified box with the chancellor for almost the entire journey. She may die of boredom or be talked to death before we reach the Citadel.”

“You may be right, Master Kinsey.” The smile returned to the princess’s face, and she glanced back at the royal coach. “Although, she does have a love for politics. Any insight into your country she can glean from the chancellor would be time well spent for her.”

He paused, considering her words. While the graceful young woman had not spoken with derision, there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in her voice. Wouldn’t the daughter who desired to dabble in the turbulent waters of the powerful be the more ideal choice for a wedding of state? “I take it you like politics about as much as I do?” Kinsey turned his head to the trial ahead. Then, just as if his tone hadn’t been perfectly clear, he offered, “Which would be very little.”

“Certain parts are not so bad, but others, dreadful.”

“I think it’s all dreadful.” He chuckled.

“The political process has its purpose at times. Communities cannot work effectively without structure, and politics provide a method for managing the bureaucracy of decision making and performing actions on the behalf of all.”

Kinsey focused on the large grouping of trees just before them. “Too bad we aren’t more like trees.” He gestured to the thicket. “You don’t see them killing each other over a border dispute.”

“They also do not build empires, care for the needy, or farm the land for crops, but yes, it is too bad.” The princess paused and regarded the grove, then added, “On the other hand, they
do
prevent others, not of their kind, from growing, and they do compete for the resources of light and water, shading out competitors and invading with their roots and changing the nature of the soil beneath their canopies.” She smiled grimly and opened her palm toward the approaching trees. “What you have here is actually a very slow war, if you think about it.”

Kinsey was a bit taken aback. He had been proud of his peaceful tree example. They didn’t look to be warlike, standing in their untidy rows, shaded ground below. Even as he considered Sloane’s words, his perspective on the copse changed, and now he could see the lack of diversity in the thick grove of trees. Small saplings at the edges of the wood leaned away from the larger specimens, struggling to reach the light at the fringe. The very ground below the oaks had been cleared for paces in every direction from the boles, except for a few struggling weeds.

Well, she can twist things like a politician, to be sure
, he thought. Rolling his shoulders in mild agitation, he blew out a breath before trying again. “Do you have plans for your two nations, once united, that is?”

She leaned back in her saddle. “I haven’t really thought about it that much. I have been too concerned about my future husband’s looks to worry about such trivial things as the fate of
my
two kingdoms.”

Kinsey barked a laugh. “I like you, Princess. Against my better judgment, I like you.”

“So glad you approve, Master Kinsey. Loyal men who
actually
like me are hard to come by.”

“I doubt that, Princess. I believe you will find many friends in the courts of Waterfall Citadel. They are in great need of a sense of humor. You are more than equal to the task.” Kinsey made an exaggerated bow in his saddle as they entered the dense patch of wood.

The princess narrowed her eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Master Kinsey.”

He straightened and looked her in the eyes. “As you should, My Lady. The way I see it, once policymakers become
too
serious about every little thing,
real
trouble starts for the rest of us.”

“Why is it you have such distaste for political figures?”

“Do you want my honest answer or the polite one?”

“Honesty, please.”

“Most of the people in power I have dealt with are similar to the man sitting back in that coach with your sister. Self-serving, arrogant, and greedy. They are
not
my preferred choice of company.”

“I see.” Sloane’s brow crinkled prettily, her sapphire eyes glittering between narrowed lashes. “I suppose I’ve been sheltered from dealing with that sort of behavior, given my role.”

He chuckled. “Possibly.”

Sloane nodded her head in agreement, then asked, “So, what is your ‘ideal’ company?”

Kinsey looked around at the woods surrounding them. “This.” He swung his arm wide toward the trees. “Nature has always been my best companion, aside from Erik, that is.”

Sloane laughed softly and pointed farther down the trail. “His ears must be burning. Isn’t that him coming this way?”

Kinsey’s gaze followed her pointing finger and his stomach dropped as he saw the figure in the distance. “Ah… Damn!”

Camelyard galloped at full speed toward the caravan, Erik clinging to his back with one hand and waving his bow frantically with the other.

Kinsey wrenched back on Dak’s reins, pulling the horse into a rearing turn. “Arm yourselves!” he bellowed back to the line behind them.

The forest around them erupted with furious battle cries and the air buzzed with arrows.

Dak danced alongside Sloane’s mount as Kinsey desperately attempted to shield her with his body from the archers who stood out from the boles of the surrounding trees. He could feel the individual punches of the shafts that shattered against his armored back; he turned to the princess and slapped the rump of her horse with as much force as he could muster. “Ride, woman! Ride!”

Chancellor Tomelen’s quill scrawled across the creamy yellow parchment he’d pulled from one of the many leather tubes stacked on the cushioned seat beside him. The containers were crammed in every nook and cranny of the carriage, making the already confined space comparable to a hoarding raven’s nest. He had written a dozen letters on this trip and didn’t seem to be slowing anytime soon. Each letter was folded with practiced precision, then rolled up tightly and attached to one of the numerous messenger birds he had brought with him from Stone Mountain. The black birdcages had been strapped to every available bit of free space he could find: atop the carriage, in the supply wagons, and on the backs of pack mules. As the birds were sent winging and the cages emptied, each was broken down and stowed. Perhaps half remained of the many that had littered the processional.