The Twelve Kingdoms (39 page)

In the morning, I found Dafne in the Tala library. Amused that even in this the Tala had to be different, I took in the spacious chamber lined with wooden-doored alcoves and otherwise screened only by swathes of heavy fabric stretched above. Tables scattered around the room held sparkling stones of various sizes. Dafne stood by one, carefully pinning open a scroll by weighting it with the stones.

“Seems such a system would be hard on the collection over time,” I observed.

She smiled, wry. “Indeed. The Tala seem to feel that oral traditions serve as the most permanent of records, while books and scrolls are merely temporary devices to transfer that information. Rather the reverse of how we see it.”

“Do you think their method works better?”

“It has its merits. However, I think we can also attribute some of Salena's . . . methods of communication to it. It might have been helpful if she'd left something as prosaic as a letter.”

“An excellent point. What did you want to tell me?” I angled my head and recognized Dasnarian characters well enough now that a shadow of foreboding passed over me.

Dafne's somber expression did nothing to alleviate my growing dread. “I debated whether to tell you this, but I finally decided that if I didn't and you found I could have, you'd likely come after me with a blade.”

“Okay,” I said evenly, brushing the Star with my thumb. Warmish, with my sisters nearby. “What are we looking at?”

“Dasnarian dynasties. Has Captain Harlan spoken to you of his family?” She was hopeful. It showed in every line, that she hoped this would not come as a surprise to me. The dread coiled tighter.

“Some. I know he's the youngest of seven brothers.” We hadn't discussed more than that, had we? Because I hadn't asked him. Believing I knew everything about him that I needed to. Letting him seduce me into trust though my initial instincts had warned me against him. My gut tightened. “What of his family?”

“It may not be significant.” She sighed, eyes falling to the scroll.

“Just say it, librarian.”

She traced a series of branching lines with her finger to a paragraph inscribed beside. “The Konyngrr dynasty has held the Dasnarian throne for several generations. The most recent king has seven sons. The youngest, named Harlan, with no possibility of attaining the throne, became a professional soldier and formed his own private army, called the Vervaldr.”

Strangely, I felt nothing at this news. Nothing except a faint chill.
There is no place for me in Dasnaria.
I found myself nodding slowly, Dafne watching me with the caution one gives a snake. “He's a fucking prince.” My voice sliced and she winced.

“It might not mean anything at all,” she tried, sounding almost pleading. “I'm sure it has no bearing on his feelings for you or . . .”

I raised an eyebrow at her and she flinched. “Or why he might have so determinedly pursued the very eligible female heir to another throne? No. That would be so unlikely. Younger noble sons never take off to find a line of succession less crowded by their own brothers.”

Dafne closed her eyes briefly, nodded once. “It looks bad, I know.”

Even now I could be pregnant with his child. All that talk of assassinating the High King. Danu take me for a witless fool. How many women in the history of time could I have looked to for cautionary tales? I would not be the first or last to fall for a solid set of muscles, pretty promises, and the delight of being bedded, only to find herself trapped. I'd once warned Andi that she could become a blood pawn. The height of irony if that fate fell to me instead.

I wouldn't let that happen. If I did turn up pregnant, I'd abdicate all right to the throne. Perhaps I could give the child away, let it be raised somewhere in ignorance, by sheepherders as I'd once teased Ami about.

Harlan would be so long gone from our shores that he would never know. He could sail off wherever he pleased, to seek his fortune and chance at power from some other hapless princess. At the point of my sword, if need be.

“Thank you for telling me. Anything else?”

“What are you going to do about this, Ursula?” Dafne squared her shoulders. “Tell me that you'll talk to him about it first. Give him a chance to explain.”

So he could lie to me again? Spew his vows and sucker me into believing he cared about me? Accuse me of withholding my secrets, my dark pain, when all along he sought to use me? “Oh, I don't think so.”

I only realized I'd said the last aloud when Dafne's face fell. And I glimpsed the calculation behind it. “Don't you dare tell him, either. I forbid it.”

“Ursula, I—”

“Don't disobey me on this. I would not excuse it this time.”

She set her jaw, nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me last night?”

She looked desperately aggrieved. “Because I thought you would react this way and I wanted you to have at least one more night of happiness. Because he
has
done that for you. Whatever his other motives—and we still don't know what they are for sure, or if he even
has
other motives—he's been good for you. You've been happier than you've been since . . .”

“Since when?” I knew I shouldn't take my cold rage out on her, but if she meant what I thought she'd been about to say, I might not be able to leash it in.

She lifted her chin. “Since Salena died.”

For some reason that hit me hard. Not what I'd expected. My mother had nothing to do with any of this.

“I'll see to the regency paperwork. Andi plans to set up a messenger chain to keep you all informed of events. Hopefully we'll send good news soon.”

“What do you consider good news?”

“High King Uorsin on his throne, peace in the realm, and every last Dasnarian dead or gone from the Twelve. The world as it should be. Wish us luck with that.” I turned on my heel and left, pretending not to hear her muttered oath behind me.

I
avoided Harlan fairly easily. After all, we rode at a determined pace. With Tala scouts to clear the way and guard our party, we moved fast, gaining the border and Odfell's Pass by midday and descending immediately, to take full advantage of the remaining light. Autumn had set in on this side of the barrier, the air on the cool side after the tropical warmth of Annfwn. Andi, in particular, looked cold, breaking out a cloak almost immediately, and I realized she hadn't left Annfwn in nearly a year.

How fast time had gone. How much had happened in that year.

Once we gained the base camp, I had my Hawks to consult with and Harlan his own officers. Devious bastards, all of them, to disguise his true identity so. The news from Ordnung was not good. On the one hand, Jepp and Marskal, working in tandem with the now healthy guard outpost, had managed to reestablish regular patrols and scouting networks all the way to the township. On the other, Ordnung itself had been locked down tighter than Windroven under siege, with no one coming out and none able to get in or hail for news.

Erich—no doubt after finding Windroven empty of his quarry— had maneuvered the armies of Avonlidgh onto the river plains west of the Danu River, within striking distance of Ordnung. Supplemented, it seemed, by forces from Nemeth and Elcinea. Duranor's army remained poised behind them, quite at home in Aerron and poised to cross the border into Mohraya. Jepp and Marskal speculated, and I agreed, that Stefan's plan would be to watch Erich and either choose a strategic moment to support his attack or trap his forces from behind, to either earn Uorsin's debt or take Ordnung for himself.

Possibly both.

Grimmer yet, those who tried to make contact with Ordnung reported back that the guard on the walls had been eerily quiet and still, not behaving as normal men and women. The township, still guarded almost entirely by Harlan's mercenaries, spoke in hushed whispers of entire contingents of raw recruits from the countryside disappearing behind the walls of the castle. Friends and relatives had not been seen in weeks and, when glimpsed, failed to respond when waved to or hailed.

They simply stood, unnaturally patient, through light and dark, in all weather conditions.

As if they'd somehow died on their feet and remained upright, living corpses. One family had managed to reclaim their daughter, it seemed, but nothing remained of her self. Just a mindless body that struggled to return to Ordnung.

Worry for his men haunted Harlan's face, and a traitorously soft part of me wanted to offer comfort. Not that I had any to give. And just a further indication of how far he'd manipulated me, that I thought of him with everything else going on.

We spent what little remained of the evening in strategy with our top lieutenants, Rayfe and Andi's Tala an odd counterpoint to the Hawks and Vervaldr, who'd intermixed and become quite familiar with each other in our absence. Without referencing Harlan, I explained what Dafne had discovered about the Temple of Deyrr and the likely explanation for the grim tales from Ordnung.

At least I could count on Harlan's lust for the High Throne to keep him and the remaining Vervaldr loyal to the effort to take out Illyria's undead guard and let us penetrate the castle. Perhaps Harlan's warnings to me about the black witch had been part of a struggle between them for supremacy, as well as a convenient method to establish trust between us. An old ploy, lulling me into believing our common enemy made us friends.

He'd positioned himself as my ally from that first day—likely before that, patiently building a scenario where I'd believe he wanted nothing more than to follow me about like a puppy. All that nonsense about the
Elskastholrr
. I burned with anger over it all, a clean, mind-clearing rage I clung to when doubts assailed me. At least Dafne had uncovered the truth before I'd made some fatal error.

A worse mistake than the ones I'd already made.

When we broke from the campfire and Harlan went to answer the call of nature, I took advantage of the opportunity to make myself scarce and bed down with some of the unattached female Hawks. Though there were fewer of those than there had been, with many of them having taken up with Dasnarian lovers. I lay awake, not even daring to get up and volunteer to take over a watch position, for fear he'd seek me out and force a confrontation.

I needed to avoid that only another day, maybe two. Once I'd killed Illyria I'd be able to have a rational conversation with Uorsin, and we'd discuss the mercenary's agenda—along with the choice of execution or banishment. I couldn't think of steps beyond that.

Just before dawn, stiff with chill and the tension of holding myself in a rigid posture to mimic sleep all night and not disturb my companions, I could stand being still not a moment more. Filled with restless tension—anticipating the coming battle, no doubt—I rose and risked a workout with some of the Hawks. Harlan would look for me, but I should be able to avoid much conversation with everyone about.

Sure enough, I'd barely made it into third form when I caught a glimpse of him, steadily working through his strengthening exercises close by. He appeared absorbed, but he had his eye on me; I felt it in the prickle of my skin. I'd have to think how best to play this. Perhaps I would have done better to sleep with him the night before, to pretend to normality, rather than arouse his suspicions.

So when I finished the twelfth form to find him waiting, I strolled past casually and smiled. A gesture he did not return. “Good morning, Captain.” I kept going, but his hand shot out to stop me.

“What's going on?” he asked in a low voice.

“A great deal. I know you heard all the same reports I did.”

He set his jaw. “You know that's not what I mean. Why are you avoiding me?”

“Is this about last night?” I went for distantly surprised. “I apologize. I wasn't thinking and should have said something. I thought it better to establish a bit of distance between us during this venture, for discipline's sake.”

“Is that what you're calling it?” An edge now. A dangerous one.

“Yes. I'm sorry if I inadvertently insulted you. I didn't mean to.”

“You have many skills, Ursula. Lying when you feel strongly about something is not one of them. You've been acting strangely since yesterday morning. I put it down to concern over the coming battle, but . . .” He broke off to study my face. “Something changed. You're going to tell me what it is.”

I tried to shake him off, the rage that had been coldly building since yesterday too near the surface, but his hand tightened on my arm. “Don't you give me orders, Captain Harlan. You're going to want to take your hand off of me before I cut it off.”

His pale eyes narrowed. “We're back to that, then. Why? You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing!” I hissed the words between my teeth, the anger spiking.

He blinked, slowly, reassessing, taken aback. “I've hurt you. How? What did I do?” Turning me, he took my other arm and seemed about to pull me into one of his comforting embraces, so perfectly calculated to make me feel secure and cared for. I couldn't stand a moment more.

Pivoting, I broke his hold and pulled my twin blades, sinking into a crouch. “Come at me again, mercenary, and I'll have your blood.”

“Don't do this, Ursula,” he warned, reflexively taking a defensive posture. Around us, interested parties gathered, keeping a safe distance.

“Afraid?” I taunted him. “Not surprising for a coward, spy, and manipulator.”

“What do you accuse me of?” he demanded. “Sheath your blades and let's discuss this.”

“Draw yours and let's finish this here and now.” We would have to do without the Vervaldr. So be it. Better to begin that purging immediately.

“I won't draw on you.” He deliberately relaxed, showing me his open palms. “I promised that and I meant it.”

“Yes, because you have a greater prize in mind, don't you? Can't have me dead or incapacitated. That would ruin all of your meticulous plans.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” His eternal patience frayed at the edges and he stepped toward me, reaching out. “Calm down and—”

I struck without thinking, fresh from the forms, liquid rage fueling me. Slashing up, I caught him across the forearm, a shallow slice, but one that bled profusely. I managed to stop the continuation that would bring the blade across his throat, though he'd already turned to deflect it, trapping my arm, and we held there, a long, frozen moment, gazes locked. Slowly, he took a step back, then pressed his fingers to his forehead in the
Elskastholrr
, bright-red blood running down his arm.

“Ursula!” came Ami's voice from somewhere behind me. “What in Glorianna's name is going on?”

I became aware that Rayfe and Ash flanked me now, each with a hand on my arm.

“Easy, Your Highness,” Ash murmured, the low tone making his voice scratch.

“Ask him,” I spat. “Prince Harlan Konyngrr.”

For a moment, Harlan looked genuinely confused. Enough that I almost could believe he was sincere. If I was a terrible liar, he was a masterful one.

“What are you talking about?” Andi, just to the side.

“He's a fucking prince of Dasnaria. Seventh in line for the throne. You put the pieces together.”

Gradually Harlan's face cleared, then hardened. “Eleventh, at least. Three of my elder brothers have had sons, and that was years ago, so there's likely more. They take precedence.”

“All the more reason for you to go seeking a throne elsewhere.”

“Is that what you think? That all of this has been an elaborate seduction to gain access to the High Throne of the Twelve?”

“Why else keep it a secret, then? You never said a Danu-cursed word about your royal blood.” A prince. Yet another power seeker. Nothing to do with me, only my rank, as always. I had wondered why he wanted me, and all the time the answer stared me in the face.

“I myself directed you to look at the Dasnarian dynasties—if you had kept reading, you would have found me eventually. As you clearly did. Why would I have pointed you there if I meant to keep my parentage secret?”

“You still never said who you really are.”

“Because
this
is who I really am. This man who stands before you. A man you know well.” His voice had gone deep and quiet. “It means less than nothing to me, who and what I came from. It should mean nothing to you. I've told you everything you asked to know, Ursula. I've given you my loyalty. The kind
you
value because it cannot be bought, because it is beyond price. But you deny me yours. You don't care enough to ask me to explain. Instead you pass judgment and sentence upon me. Who does that remind you of, Your Highness?”

“I want you gone.” Ice coated my heart. “You and your mercenaries. I want you clear of the Twelve Kingdoms. On pain of death.”

Coldly, he inclined his head. “You can command me to leave your kingdom, Your Highness, but that changes nothing for me. You know that.”

“Keep your loyalty, mercenary.”

“I will. Ever in my heart.” He turned and walked away.

For the rest of the day, everyone steered clear of me except when necessary, which suited me fine. Ami tried to talk to me once but quickly abandoned the field when I snarled at her. There were plenty of conversations to have, reports to receive, and instructions to give. It felt good to get back in rhythm with my Hawks. As the day went on, I felt more my usual self and less like whoever I'd become in Annfwn.

I had never been the kind of woman to wear flimsy dresses and cavort with her lover on the beach. The more time passed, the more it felt like a dream. Or like it had happened to someone else. By the time I caught my first sight of Ordnung's towers, I had the entire episode relegated to foolishness. Andi and Ami had practically said so.
The sister I left behind never would have . . . Silly in love . . .

We camped within an hour's ride of the walls that night. In the dark before dawn, we'd finish discreetly encircling the castle, hopefully penetrating the walls before Erich's scouts caught wind of us. Uorsin might yet open the gates to us, his three daughters, if we asked entrance, as he wouldn't for others. No sense escalating a conflict that might be avoided. If, however, we were refused or encountered no response, we'd be in position to tighten the net and attack.

My eyes burned from not sleeping the night before, hardly an unusual occurrence for me. At least in the past. A missed night or two had never made much difference for me before, but I'd grown soft that way also. Accustomed to the indulgences Harlan had lulled me into. The gritty surreality brought on by that, by my outburst of the morning—had I ever been so boilingly angry? Not hurt. He was wrong. I wouldn't let it be that—and worry over what the next day would hold, all of it combined to keep me on edge. With all the planning done, I had nothing to do but check my weapons and gear, to sharpen my already keen-edged blades. My neck tight as steel, I rolled my head on my shoulders to loosen it and accidentally caught Harlan's implacable gaze from across the campfire.