“Basington...Basington,” said Molly, unaware she was speaking out loud. “Where have I heard that name before?”

  One of the officers looked up and smiled at her. “There’s a famous abbey near there. That’s probably why you’ve heard of it.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Molly, smiling at him and then apologizing to Lukas for the interruption.

  She had heard Sister Morwen mention Basington. Should she pay the nuns a visit while they were camped in the area? Or would that be too depressing? Hanging around a convent didn’t seem like a good time to her, but it might be a nice change of pace. Yes, maybe she would go for tea and bring along some sugared cakes or something to brighten up Morwen’s dreary day. It would almost be like charity.

  The next morning, as she and Lukas rode along, side by side at the head of the column, she mentioned this idea to him. They were apparently only a few miles from Basington now, and Molly wondered if she could go visit the abbey in the afternoon.

  “Morwen Byrne,” said Lukas, chuckling. “It’s amazing the effect that girl still has on people, even in that boring old habit. My son Halvor is quite taken with her, you see, so I’ve had to hear a great deal about her recently.”

  Molly was about to ask what Halvor had said about the nun, when a scout came galloping up the road at them. “Your grace!” he cried. “I’ve sighted the enemy over the next ridge, in the Basing Valley.”

  Lukas called for Quincy to take twenty men and investigate. Then he sent the scout to fetch Sir Halvor. “He’s been in this area recently,” said Lukas. “He’ll have some idea of the terrain.”

  When Sir Halvor arrived, all the staff officers dismounted and gathered around a little camp table by the side of the road. Molly ran to the baggage train and got Lukas’s valet to help her put together a plate of fruit slices and some mugs of ale for refreshments. She brought them back and served them out, while Lukas and the men talked about sorties and flanking maneuvers and other things that she didn’t really understand.

  She understood, though, that there was going to be a battle, and as she stood around, waiting for the men to finish their ale, she remembered her terror at being trapped in the burning wagon. She hoped there was going to be somewhere safe that she could stay. Perhaps in the abbey itself? Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe she could watch the fighting with Sister Morwen from a safe distance, while they had tea and cakes.

  It turned out they weren’t going to the abbey, though. Quincy returned and said the Sigor and Byrne forces were at the abbey already. That meant the Gramiren forces would have to take up position across the valley, at the edge of a forest that Halvor said was called “Almoner’s Woods.”

  When they arrived on the spot, the slope was so gentle that it barely seemed like a hill at all to Molly. But Quincy insisted it was a “perfect position,” and who was she to doubt him?

  She watched as her brother gave orders to his men and supervised a division of archers in pounding stakes into the ground. This was to protect them from a cavalry charge, apparently.

  “Listen, this will be a dangerous place to be when the battle starts,” he warned her. “There’s an inn about five miles back—we passed it this morning. I’ve heard that’s where some of the ladies are going.”

  “Which ladies?”

  Quincy blushed. “Well, um...I’ve heard Duchess Carrine is stopping there, and her daughter—”

  “I’ll take my chances here, thank you,” Molly said.

  That afternoon, King Broderick arrived with the Keelshire troops, and Lukas had to spend hours with his majesty, working out exactly where all the men would be placed. Molly was not invited to this conference, but she was invited to supper at the king’s headquarters that evening. Apparently, Duchess Carrine had declined to leave her comfortable inn, which meant Molly would be Lukas’s escort for the evening.

  The king was very polite, and everyone was quite pleasant. In fact, as the evening went on, the men got very drunk, indeed, to the point that Molly wondered if she should warn Lukas to stop. He was going to have to fight a battle in the morning, and she couldn’t imagine it would improve his generalship if he had a roaring hangover. She tried to enter into the spirit of the occasion, and drink herself silly, too. But she kept thinking about her one little taste of combat, and after a while, the smoke and alcohol and noise made her feel ill. She excused herself and went to a quieter part of the big headquarters tent.

  There was a woman seated in wicker furniture by the tent flap, where a cool breeze was coming in. She was a curvy blonde in a red silk dress. Molly didn’t know her, but she looked slightly familiar, as if she’d been at court, too. Did she want company or not?

  The woman looked around, saw her wavering, and called out, “Please, come have a seat.” She had a slight accent—Annenstruker, maybe. Curious, Molly took her up on the offer.

  “Jannike Overfelt,” the woman said, shaking Molly’s hand. “I suppose someone ought to have introduced us, but it’s just like the men to forget things like that.”

  Molly hadn’t met the woman before, but she knew the name. Lady Jannike Overfelt was an Annenstruker widow and the king’s current mistress. According to rumor, she had been picked for the job by the queen herself, in order to force Duchess Flora out of the king’s life.

  Molly introduced herself, too, and the two women looked each other over. There was nothing openly competitive about it, but Molly was glad she had worn one of her prettiest new dresses, as well as the emerald necklace that had been Lukas’s first present to her.

  “You’re so young,” said Jannike, with a slightly pained smile.

  “Thank you,” said Molly deciding to treat the observation as a compliment.

  Jannike leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t let Lukas take advantage of you. He’s taking your youth. Make sure you get something in return.”

  Molly’s face grew warm. “He...well, he buys me dresses. And this necklace, too.”

  “I don’t mean that, though those are very nice. I mean a wedding. Not with him, of course. You mustn’t expect that. Too many girls in our position think they’re going to be the next queen or the next lady so-and-so. It almost never happens, so don’t plan on it. No, I’m talking about one of Lukas’s knights or retainers. Find one who’s not married and isn’t too ugly, and start laying the foundation now. A hint here or there, some discreet correspondence, perhaps. Oh, and be sure Lukas understands he’ll be providing you with a dowry.”

  “I’m sorry,” sputtered Molly, “but I barely know you!”

  “Yes, I’m overly familiar,” said Jannike, laughing. “It comes from being Annenstruker, I think. I mean well, though; you should know that. Here, let me show you something.” She looked around the tent and then pointed at another woman, some distance away, who was drinking and laughing with an older man. “Do you know who that is?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “It’s Baroness Hildred Stenburg. Formerly Lady Hildred Cuthing, daughter of our somewhat reluctant new ally, the Duke of Keelshire. My Broderick was very generous in helping the girl find a husband, and she is damned lucky, I can tell you. I can’t say if it’s true or not, but the rumor I’ve heard is that the girl is a bit...Thessalian. Supposedly she had an affair with Princess Elwyn Sigor, if you can believe it.”

  Molly shuddered. She had read stories and poems where girls did things with each other, but she had always found the notion slightly nauseating.

  Lady Jannike misread Molly’s reaction, however. “Yes, everyone says Elwyn is a bitch. But rumor has it that she’s quite wild in bed. Some people like that. In any case, Hildred would never have found a husband if my Broderick hadn’t intervened. No one wants a girl with a scandal attached to her name, and that, my dear Miss Coburn, is precisely what you and I are.” She patted Molly’s hand again. “What do you think will happen to you if Lukas dies in the battle tomorrow?”

  “I’d rather not think about that, thank you very much.”

  “I know. But you should. Look out for yourself. No one else is going to do it for you.”

  Chapter 34

  “I shouldn’t even be here,” moaned Penny’s mother. “My head won’t stop pounding. Penny, dear, can you fetch me another hot towel?”

  Penny did, though it wasn’t likely to help her mother any more than the last towel had. In her mind, Penny composed an essay entitled, “How I Spent My Summer Holiday,” and it began, “I watched my father destroy the cultural heart of our nation, and I humored my mother’s hypochondria.”

  “I wouldn’t be here at all,” the duchess continued, “if it weren’t for the fact that your father brought that whore along with him. When your father rides in triumph through the gates of the Bocburg, Penny, I don’t want Molly Coburn to be the woman riding beside him.”

  That was fair enough, as far as Penny was concerned. For her part, though, she would rather have stayed in Formacaster. The only thing that had interested her even slightly about this march was the fact that they would be passing the Erstenwell Abbey. Penny had a great many questions for Sister Morwen—things that were too embarrassing to put in a letter—and she had been looking forward to stopping in and having a good, long talk with the kindhearted nun. At long, long last, Penny felt as if she had gained the upper hand over her feelings for Edwin Sigor, and now she wanted some objective advice about what she should do for the rest of her life.

  Unfortunately, it looked as if they weren’t going to get to Erstenwell, after all. The Keneburgian army was holding the ridge with the abbey, so the Gramirens were apparently sitting at the other side of the valley. So close, but yet so far.

  Penny’s mother had a map of the area on her bedside table, and Penny spent some time studying it, looking at the little intersecting lines of roads. It wouldn’t be that hard to ride around the end of her father’s army and cross the valley to the abbey. There were woods and swamps, and all sorts of little farm lanes cut through the countryside. The Sigors couldn’t possibly be watching them all, could they?

  As always, it took Penny very little time to go from a vague idea to a fully-formed plan. Her mother called her “impulsive,” but Penny preferred to think of it as using her imagination in the most efficient possible manner. She waited until her mother had dozed off, and then wrote a very carefully worded letter. There was nothing in it that was actually a lie. That was important to her; Penny was a stickler for the truth.

  Dear Mother,

  I am nervous about the battle tomorrow and about my future. I have gone to seek some spiritual guidance. Don’t worry about me. I will be back soon.

  Your loving daughter,

  Penny

  She left the letter on her bed, slipped down to the stables, and took her horse. First she went south, looking for the end of the Gramiren lines. As darkness fell, she was challenged by a sentry. When she gave her name, he tried to dissuade her from riding any farther, but she assured him she knew exactly where she was going, and he let her go.

  Fog descended and filled the valley, and soon Penny couldn’t see more than a few yards in front of her horse. She could still hear the army off in the mist—and sometimes she could see watch fires. When she thought she had gone far enough, she took a left turn, heading east, and rode downhill. She had a fairly good idea where she was, until the road turned north again. She didn’t remember seeing a road that did that on the map. Should she try to cut across a field, perhaps? A minute later, and the road twisted again before coming to an intersection. She didn’t remember that on the map, either.

  For the first time, she was truly scared, as it occurred to her that she was lost and alone between two armies. “This is incredibly stupid,” she thought. No advice from Sister Morwen could possibly be worth this. She turned her horse in the direction she thought was west and started heading back.

  A voice cried out of the fog, telling her to stop and dismount. She did so, and a moment later, she saw two riders approach, one of them with an arrow nocked to his bowstring.

  “P-perhaps you gentlemen can help me,” she said. “I’m a bit lost, and I’m trying to get back to my inn.”

  They didn’t look very convinced. “Which inn?” one of them asked.

  “The, er...White Hart, I think.”

  “That’s five miles from here,” the one with the bow said. “And on the other side of the Gramiren lines.” The way he said the name, “Gramiren” sent a cold shudder down Penny’s back. These men were Sigors.

  They arrested her on the spot for spying, and said that they were going to have to take her to their commander.

  “Please, I’m really not a spy,” she said. “I’m Penelope Ostensen, and if you send me back to my father’s lines, I’m sure he’ll be very grateful.”

  They laughed at her, which made her feel truly miserable. Although, in fairness, she had to admit that her claim sounded rather improbable. Mostly because her idea of riding around the armies was so incredibly, insanely idiotic.

  “Take me to the convent,” she pleaded. “Sister Morwen Byrne knows me. She can tell you who I am.”

  The Sigor scouts, however, insisted that she needed to come to their headquarters. It turned out to be a tent a few yards from the convent gate. As they escorted her to the tent flap, she could see the dark shape of the abbey church towers rising in the fog. There it was—the place she’d been trying to reach. Sister Morwen was just yards away, but there was no way to get to her.

  In the tent, two men in mail were looking over a map with their backs to her. “Pardon me, my lords,” said the scout. “We caught this woman by the stone bridge. We think she’s a spy, but she claims to be Duke Lukas’s daughter.”

  At those words, both men turned around to look at her, and she knew them both instantly. One was Andras Byrne. And the other was Edwin Sigor.

  “Penny!” said Edwin, his eyes wide with shock.

  “What were you doing taking a ride there?” asked Andras. He sounded more curious than angry.

  Penny took a deep breath and tried not to look too closely at Edwin while she explained to Andras how she had been trying to go see his sister, Morwen, at the convent. The way they looked at her made her want to go crawl under a rock somewhere. Clearly, they both thought she was mad, and she couldn’t honestly blame them.

  “Holy fucking Finster,” said Andras, shaking his head. “What was so blasted important that you couldn’t wait until after the battle?”

  “Penny,” said Edwin again. He hadn’t moved. “Can I talk to you alone?”

  He and Andras exchanged a long glance, and then Andras, rolling his eyes, led the scouts out of the command tent. And here Penny was at last; alone with Edwin for the first time since she’d slapped his face and run away from him more than a year ago. Her heart raced, and her stomach roiled, and her face burned. She felt like she was going to throw up.

  “Penny, did you really go riding to see Morwen? Or were you...,” he was blushing now, too, “were you trying to see me?”

  It was an astonishingly arrogant question, but the way he said it, in a tiny, heartbroken voice, made Penny want to give him a hug. So she did. And then she kissed him, too.

  Half a second later, when he started to embrace her in return, she realized that she was making yet another colossal mistake. She had no idea why she was kissing him. It was the impulse of a moment, and it was such a terrible idea.

  And then he stepped back and pushed her away. “Penny, I’m sorry. This isn’t the time for this. I’m not sure there’s ever going to be a time for this. I’m really sorry.”

  It was such a relief to hear him say it. As soon as he did, she knew he was right—there was never going to be a time when their relationship would work. She had wanted him; she had needed him. But that had all been an illusion. In reality he was a scared little boy, and she was a scared little girl, and neither of them was ready for this. She had to let it go.

  It hurt; it felt like having something torn out of her painfully and suddenly. But after a few seconds, she could breathe again. She felt better than she had in months.

  He didn’t really want this any more than she did. She didn’t need his approval or his agreement, but it felt good to have it, anyway. This was the end between them, but she still liked him, and she was glad he agreed it should end.

  “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know why I’ve done any of this. I wish I could go back and tell myself not to spend a whole year trying to recover something that would never have worked.”

  “I feel the same way,” he said with a crooked smile.

  She took his hand. “We will be friends, though, won’t we?”

  “Obviously.”

  They hugged again, and she cried a little, not really out of sadness, but more from relief. Then Edwin asked if she’d like to stay in the convent until the battle was over. She nearly answered “yes.” She would have a chance to see Sister Morwen, and that had been her whole purpose in leaving the inn tonight. But the whole trip had gone wrong now. Or rather, it had gone right in a way she hadn’t expected.

  She still wanted to speak to Morwen, but it didn’t feel so urgent. Instead, she wanted to go back and see her mother and governess. She wanted to fetch hot towels and cups of tea. She wanted to sit with her mother’s ladies and pray for all their husbands and sons. She wanted to be back home.

  “Listen, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, do you think you could send me back to my father’s lines?”

  Edwin nodded. “I’ll get a herald. You can go under a flag of truce.”

  Ten minutes later, she had said goodbye to the man of her most childish dreams and was headed back into the misty night with a Sigor herald. He rode ahead of her, with a bright white lantern and a truce flag. The lantern, rather than casting aside the gloom, just increased it, with a uniform gray glow all around them.

  The herald sucked air through his teeth and looked nervously around as they approached the stone bridge. “I don’t mind telling you, my lady, that I’ll be very glad to see the back of you. No offense.”

 

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