Reader and Raelynx (33 page)

I
N
the morning, messengers arrived from all directions. From Brassenthwaite and Rappengrass came brief reports of uprisings at their Houses and promises of troops on the way. Ariane Rappengrass’s note contained additional dire news: “My spies have seen armies forming in Fortunalt and Gisseltess. Majesty, they have described hundreds of foreign soldiers disembarking in Forten City. If they do not turn toward Rappen Manor, I am certain they will come for Ghosenhall. Prepare yourself.”

Romar’s cousin, the marlord of Merrenstow, had sent more than a letter—he had sent thousands of troops, in addition to the royal soldiers who had been quartered on Merrenstow land for the past six months. The promised troops from Kianlever also arrived, and a small contingent from Helven showed up with a brief note from marlord Martin: “I cannot spare any more. I see the dust of Fortunalt armies headed my way.” Heffel Coravann did not send any men to swell the royal army but did relay a message to Ghosenhall: “I am restoring order to my own House. We will not war with either faction.”

There was no word from Tilt. No word from Nocklyn or Storian.

Donnal and two of the Carrebos shape-shifters had returned from reconnaissance missions flown over the southern half of the kingdom. The news was worse than they had feared. Yes, there was an army cutting northeast from Fortunalt. Half of its soldiers marched under the pearl-sewn flag of Fortunalt, half under the blue triple pendant of Arberharst. And yes, there was an army from Gisseltess, wending its way between Nocklyn and Coravann. Every soldier in the ranks wore the Gisseltess standard, a black hawk carrying a red flower in its talons.

But there was a third army, smaller, more nimble, roving just ahead of Halchon Gisseltess’s forces. These riders wore black and silver and rode under a flag emblazoned with phases of the moon. Coralinda Gisseltess was riding alongside her brother, bringing her soldiers to war against the crown.

“Why? What can she offer on a battlefield?” Senneth demanded. They were holding a conference in the smaller dining hall, which was big enough to hold everyone who might need to consult but small enough to allow them to do so comfortably. Today the group held Amalie, Cammon, Kirra, Romar, Tayse, and Senneth. Someone had tacked a large map of Gillengaria to the wall. The long table was covered with papers and messenger’s pouches and letters full of promises or bad news. “Her few hundred men are not enough to affect the outcome—unless they are much better than I think they are.”

“Justin and I defeated four of them last fall,” Cammon said. “And then a few weeks later he defeated five all by himself. So I don’t think they can be
that
good.”

“Then perhaps she believes she herself will be the advantage on the battlefield, and the soldiers accompany her merely to give her consequence,” Tayse said.

Kirra snorted. “She comes to bring
magic
to the battlefield,” she said. “The magic she claims she doesn’t have.”

Senneth nodded. “I think that’s what we have to assume. Though I’m not sure how she intends to wield it.”

Everyone sent sideways glances in Amalie’s direction. The princess widened her eyes and said, “I have no idea how such magic could be used! It is pointless to ask me.”

“Then we cannot plan how to defeat it,” Romar said briskly. He was always the one who kept any conversation going forward, pushing aside fruitless debates and focusing on the major problems. “We need to look instead at the forces we understand.”

“Tilt worries me, because everyone forgets about Tilt,” Kirra said.

“Tilt’s army is scarcely bigger than Coralinda’s guard,” Romar said dismissively. “Whether they send men to aid us or attack us, it will hardly matter either way.”

“And it is just that attitude that makes them dangerous,” Kirra muttered.

Cammon could tell she was surprised when Tayse agreed with her. “Kirra’s right. Tilt men could easily come upon us from the north, a direction from which we do not expect danger, and enact sabotage.”

Romar shrugged. “I will ask my cousin to step up patrols between the Merrenstow borders and Tilt,” he said. “If trouble comes from that direction, he will let us know.”

“We have to assume Storian and Nocklyn have joined the rebels,” Senneth said. “And that the ranks of the armies will be swelled by their soldiers as they pass through.”

Romar nodded. “I have sent messengers to Rafe Storian and Mayva Nocklyn and gotten no word in reply,” he said. “I am greatly afraid you’re right.”

“Well, there was never a prayer Mayva would be strong enough to oppose her husband—and he’s Halchon’s cousin, so of course he will war against us,” Kirra said. “But I admit I kept hoping her father would rise up from his sickbed and wrest back control of Nocklyn Towers. I’m sorry it hasn’t happened.”

“And I admit I kept expecting better of Rafe Storian,” Senneth said. “For him to side with Rayson Fortunalt! How could he do it?”

“That matters less to me than the number of additional men he may offer to our enemies,” Romar said. “For now, if the shape-shifters have estimated correctly, there will be nearly ten thousand soldiers arrayed against us. Assuming Brassenthwaite and Kianlever send the men they’ve promised, we will muster only about seven thousand.”

“Then we should pick our ground, for whatever advantage that affords us,” Tayse said.

“You do not think we are wiser to stay in Ghosenhall, where we can withstand a siege?” Romar asked.

“I think in Ghosenhall we have enemies on multiple sides,” Tayse said, standing up and moving toward the map. “Tilt to the north of us, Storian to the southwest, and armies from the south. If we move here”—he indicated a spot in the middle of unaligned territory between Brassenthwaite, Merrenstow, and Kianlever—“it will be harder for enemies to surround us. And if Amalie needs to flee, she will have two escape routes to the oceans, and one over the mountains.”

“The mountains!” Romar repeated. “You’d send her to the Lirrenlands?”

“With her Lirren stepmother. I would.” He glanced briefly at Amalie, and Cammon could just barely see his smile. “I would send her now, before battle is joined, except that I do not think she would go.”

“No, I most certainly would not!” Amalie declared. “If you are fighting for me, I will stand beside you.”

Romar gave her a serious look. “But Tayse is right. The entire war is pointless unless we are able to secure your safety. If it becomes clear that we are overmatched and we fear for your life—will you promise then to seek refuge? In the Lirrens with Valri, or wherever else we determine is your best hope for safe haven?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “I will.”

“Then perhaps Tayse is right, and we should engage these rebel armies on ground of our choosing. Leave Ghosenhall behind.”

“The city’s already half empty,” Kirra said. “Ever since the attack, people have been abandoning their shops and houses.”

“I would wish the whole city deserted before the armies arrive,” Amalie said. “Send criers out—let them know war is upon us.”

Romar nodded. Cammon knew that the regent had already sent his own wife back to Merrenstow, though she might find only a relative safety even there. “We have done so,” Romar said. “But some people won’t leave. They’re more afraid of looters left behind than soldiers marching through.”

“Their choice,” Amalie said. “But they need to know how quickly danger comes.”

The debate went on but Cammon did not follow it closely. He was not a strategist; he was not particularly good at considering the future and how he might improve its bleak picture. What he knew was that the people in this room, and a few of them outside it, the ones he cared about most in the world, were about to fling themselves headlong into danger. And he had enough experience with calamity to know that devastation could blight the most ordinary day. He could not imagine how it might come calling when times were so desperate.

A
MALIE
had been thinking somewhat along the same lines, as became clear that night when they finally made their way to her bedroom. The raelynx preceded them down the hallway, sniffing at promising corners and pausing every once in a while to look over its shoulder and make sure they were still following. Nonetheless, it seemed to lose all interest in them as soon as they pushed through Amalie’s door. It headed to its favorite spot beside the freshly built fire and curled up to sleep.

Amalie went to stand at the window and look out over the sloping lawns. The moon was small and high; the grass mustered a subdued sparkle under its light. At this time of night, it was impossible to tell how green the lawns had become in just a few days. They had pulled away bodies and found new grass underneath.

“When armies ride to war, death rides with them,” she said. “I love so few people in this world, and any of them could lose their lives in this endeavor.”

Cammon settled in one of the extremely comfortable chairs and watched the back of her head. “I had the identical thought.”

“I wonder if it might be better to abandon Ghosenhall, indeed, but not so we could make a stand in another place. Cede the palace, cede the crown, spare all these lives.”

He was silent a moment. “There is probably not a single one of your friends who would agree that is a good idea.”

“Even you?”

“I’m hardly qualified to advise.”

“But you can tell me your opinion.”

“My opinion is that war will follow you wherever you go. If you hide in the Lirrens, Halchon Gisseltess will track you down there. If you are alive, you are a threat to him. He would prefer to see you dead or in his power.”

She reflected a moment. “And if I were dead?”

“Amalie!”

“I’m just asking. I’m not planning to kill myself.”

“If you were dead and he could take the throne—yes, I suppose it would avert a great deal of bloodshed. Every mystic in the country would be put to death, though. And I suspect the rebels would still war against Merrenstow and Rappengrass and the Houses that have shown loyalty to the throne. And I have to believe that Halchon Gisseltess would make a bad king—unjust and violent. His sons would rule after him and be equally brutal. Is that the legacy you would leave for Gillengaria?”

She sighed. “It is just that I do not want anyone to die.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t know how to keep them all safe. I don’t even know how to keep safe the ones I care about the most.”

She stared out the window during another short silence. “Valri is grieving over my father’s death,” she said presently.

“I know,” he said again.

“She thinks he didn’t know that she loved him. She thinks if she had told him so, she would not be so distraught now.”

“I always thought your father knew everything,” Cammon said with a touch of humor. “I’d be surprised if he hadn’t realized it.”

“Still, you should
tell
people the important things, while you can,” she said, turning away from the window and coming straight for him across the room. Before he could stir from the chair, she dropped to her knees, clasped his hand, and cradled it against her cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “I have let you think that I am merely playing at love when I am with you, learning things I need to know, but that’s all been pretense. I truly do love you. I don’t know how I’m going to give you up when the time comes that I am supposed to do so.”

His heart, at the same time, compressed with grief and expanded with joy.
“Amalie,”
he said urgently, trying to pull her off her knees, into his lap, but she would not budge. So he slipped from the chair and joined her on the floor, drawing her into his arms. “Amalie, you won’t have to give me up. We’ll think of something. I’ll stay on as a footman or a groom—I’ll work in the wine cellars or the gardens. Maybe I’ll have Kirra do some magic, change my face. No one but you will even know that I’m still here.” She laughed against his chest, as if he had been joking, and he added, “I’m
serious.
”

“I don’t think that will be good enough for me,” she said unsteadily.

He stroked her hair. “I haven’t been able to bear to think about it,” he said. “I sat there all those days when the serramar of Gillengaria came courting you! Knowing that one of them would marry you, and how would I be able to stand it? I was already wondering where I should go once you were married. Except where
would
I go? Justin and Tayse and Senneth are here, and no one ever knows where Kirra and Donnal will be, and I have no one else. But I have been afraid to let myself love you too much, because I don’t know how to walk away from love. I don’t know how to let it go. But what do I do with that love if I don’t have you in my life?”

She lifted her head, and so, of course, he kissed her. She had started crying, but the kiss made her smile. “And I have been afraid that once you left the palace, you would forget all about me.”

He gave a little snort. “That doesn’t seem to be how it works for me. When they’re gone—Senneth and the others—I can still feel them. I know if they’re safe, if they’re afraid, if they’re hurt. It doesn’t matter how far away they are. As long as they’re in Gillengaria, I can hear them.” He kissed her again. “I was thinking I would have to sail to Arberharst if I wanted to get you out of my heart. Or, well, not Arberharst anymore, I suppose. Karyndein or Sovenfeld. Somewhere so distant that even your memories couldn’t follow me.”

“I don’t want you to go that far,” she said. “I don’t want you to go at all.”

He hugged her closer, feeling both elated and hopeless.
She loves me
warred with
I still can’t have her.
“There are no answers, not now,” he said quietly. “Maybe when the war ends, the world will have changed. Or maybe we will both just be so glad to be alive that we will be able to stand it better, whatever happens next. But, Amalie, as long as you want me with you, I will stay. And if ever you want me to go, I will go. I love you. For now, at least, maybe that’s enough.”