A wicked wind, p.7
A Wicked Wind, page 7
Andariana didn’t begrudge Nadja those relationships, though. After losing both her sisters and her husband so close together, she wasn’t sure she would have been much of a mother without Nadja. It turned out that reconstructing a realm after a bloody civil war was quite time-consuming, especially as the nobility made repeated attempts to grab as much power for themselves as possible. Andariana sighed, all the painful particulars of the revived war tumbling through her mind.
It turned out that her best attempts hadn’t been worth much.
Nadja finished buttoning up the back of the riding gown and Andariana walked across the room, delighting in feel of fine Fanja silk against her skin.
She was so grateful to the Ri-Vhan for clothing both herself and Tamara when they’d arrived, resembling drowned rats rather than royalty. Andariana had been held in a dank cellar before Aleksei had rescued her, piling corpses on top of her and pulling off a daring escape from the capitol under the very noses of an invading army. Her brief stint in Azarael’s bizarre tower hadn’t done her clothes any kindnesses, either. But at least she hadn’t had to work her way through a league of sewer tunnels just to reach safety. She glanced at her daughter, now chatting happily with Nadja as the ancient woman did up the back of her dress.
She would never have guessed that Tamara would have been up to the tasks Aleksei had set her to secure her freedom, but according to the Lord Captain, she’d been remarkably stoic and capable in their flight from Kalinor. However long she lived, Andariana doubted she’d ever be able to properly repay Aleksei Drago for everything he’d done for her family.
She mentally corrected herself. While the Hunter and her nephew hadn’t been properly married yet, they were Bonded. That alone made him part of her family, as far as she was concerned.
“It looks decent enough,” Nadja opined, stepping from behind Tamara to get a closer look at Andariana.
“Thank you for altering it. That must have taken you all night!”
Nadja shrugged her shoulders, “I’ve spent my life fiddling with such things. It was hardly some heroic display of prowess. I was in bed before midnight.”
Tamara walked across the room as Andariana had, offering a grateful sigh, “Oh, thank you, Miss Nadja. It’s wonderful. I feel a bit more like myself again.”
The old woman turned to the princess, her eyes narrowing, “A fine dress doesn’t make a princess anymore than a pile of filthy rags makes you a beggar. Don’t let such frippery define you, darling. Who you are is something you’re born with, that you are, not something you wear.”
Tamara bowed her head, “Of course, Miss Nadja.”
The nursemaid turned to Andariana, “I know you hoped to never have to open that box, but it was an ingenious idea to keep it stashed here. You’ve got the clothes that name you a queen, and the gold to back it up. I must say, if you’d arrived in Taumon in Ri-Vhan barkcloth, you’d have a hard time convincing the guards that you weren’t just another mad woman.”
Andariana nodded her head, “My thoughts exactly. But Marra’s deposition taught me not to take anything for granted. If it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone. And unfortunately, I know how important it is to look the part. I fear any woman in a fine dress could walk up to the Admiralty and get inside without too much trouble. Unless someone was there who’d actually seen me the last time I was in Taumon, how would they even know who I was?
“It’s been a long while since I’ve had to use money, too. But in this situation, that bag of silver and gold is the difference between life and death.”
“Quite right,” Nadja said sadly. “Now, you’ll need some horses. Corbin and Jacob ought to be finished packing by now. If you like, you can go with them to the farrier and pick out four decent mounts.”
Andariana blinked in surprise, “Corbin and Jacob are packing? Whatever for?”
Tamara sighed behind her, “Mother, do you think Aleksei would want us traversing several hundred leagues to Taumon alone? Especially with a civil war raging? We’ll be passing through friendly territory, it’s true, but it would be a greater deterrent to have some young men along with us.” The princess turned to Nadja, “Can they fight?”
Nadja shrugged, “Jacob is quite accomplished with both axe and bow. He can’t string a sentence together, but he’s a dead-eye shot. Corbin’s been training with a sword for a few years now, though I’m not a good judge of such things. I’ve always been far more interested in knives.”
Andariana smiled knowingly. She looked at her daughter, and fought back a laugh at seeing Tamara’s eyes so wide.
She was just about to inquire further when the young men in question descended the rickety stairway. Both were clad in riding clothes, packs slung across their backs. An axe hung from Jacob’s belt, an unstrung bow tied to his shoulders. Corbin wore a short sword at his back.
Nadja went to the window, peering up at the sky. “As much as I’d like to have a longer chat, darlings, you’d best get going. If you leave town by midday, you ought to reach Riplenk Spring by nightfall. I daresay the accommodations there are a sight better than a beggar’s camp just off the road. Amenities between Riplenk and Taumon are few and far between. Take advantage where you can.”
Lord Simon Declan looked at the substance before him dubiously. “Pardon me, miss. But what exactly is this? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The young woman smiled warmly, “It’s called vinegar pie, Master Declan. Try it. It’s sweet and a little bit sour.”
Declan took a tentative bite. He was quite surprised at how simple and elegant the flavor combination was. Eagerly, he took another.
“I apologize for being uncertain before, miss. This is wonderful.”
She smiled again. She was a shockingly lovely girl. He hadn’t expected a lowly peasant to have such fine features. “Master Declan, please! My name is Katherine.”
He smiled, “I apologize, Katherine. I’m afraid I’m not much used to calling people by their given names.”
She frowned at that, then thought a moment. Her big brown eyes brightened. “Are you a lord?”
He stiffened, “What would make you suppose such a thing?”
She shrugged as she sat across from him at the rough farm table. “Your clothes are finer than anything in this village, and they’re an unusual cut. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you bought them in Kalinor. And you’re far too genteel to be from around here. You speak differently than we do.” She paused and then gave a soft giggle, “Also, you’ve never had vinegar pie.”
When he frowned at that, she shrugged, “This is peasant food, Master Declan. But it’s common peasant food. If you’d been to an inn within a hundred leagues of here, you’d probably have had it before.”
Declan stared at her for a moment, until he realized he was making her uncomfortable.
“Well, miss,” he caught himself and smiled ruefully, “Katherine, you are quite an astute young lady. But you look too young to have traveled much beyond this quaint little hamlet. Tell me, how could you recognize a Kalinori gentleman’s coat? Has a lord been through here? It’s not exactly along a major road.”
Katherine gave him coy smile, “You have your secrets, Master Declan, and I have mine. Even if you’ve more gold than the worth of this entire village, it doesn’t make your secrets any better than mine. Secrets can be worth far more than gold.”
He had to fight to keep from his jaw from dropping. “I must say you’ve surprised me again, my dear. I’ve been through small villages before. They are full of hardworking tradespeople and farmers, for the most part, but they’re not the usual spot to find intellectual gems.”
She shrugged her shoulders, “Perhaps it’s different here. After all, since you’ve clearly never been down around here, I doubt you could throw Voskrin in the same pool with all those other villages you’ve ridden through.”
The name struck him as somehow familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He couldn’t imagine why he would have heard of this tiny nothing of a community. This was as deep into Lord Perron’s holdings as you could get without crossing into the mist-mazes of Yrinu.
Katherine continued, “Now, are you going to answer my question?”
He looked up, confused for a moment, “Beg your pardon?”
She fixed him with an intense gaze, “Are you a lord?”
He decided to trust her, at least a little bit. She had only shown him kindness thus far. “I am, Katherine. Lord Simon Declan of Keiv-Alon, and until quite recently representative of my holdings to Her Majesty, Queen Andariana Belgi of Ilyar.”
Katherine nodded and gave him a blank smile. She stood and cleared the empty plates from the table. He decided the poor girl must be in shock. It was highly unlikely she’d ever met or entertained a lord, much less one who’d served as a member of Parliament.
“Can I fetch you another piece of pie, milord?” she asked from the counter.
Declan sighed, “There’s no need for that, Katherine. Call me Simon. It is, after all, my name.”
“As you say, Simon. Would you like some more pie?”
He smiled, “I would, actually.”
As she busied herself in the kitchen, she changed the subject to other matters. The poor harvest, her brothers’ trials taking over her father’s business. And, of course, the war.
“You know, Simon, my husband was killed fighting in the war,” she said noncommittally.
“For which side, if I might be so bold?”
She gave a throaty laugh, “Which side would you imagine?”
Despite her light tone, Declan understood that he was treading on dangerous territory. “Well, Katherine, I’m sure a girl as smart as you can make up her own mind. I’m sure any man who won your hand would be just as attracted to your mind as anything else. I’m sure he fought for the side he deemed to be in the right.”
Katherine cleared her throat, “And which side do you deem to be in the right, Simon?”
Simon breathed out heavily. “The world I’ve been living in, Katherine, is unfortunately not made up of right and wrong, or black and white. There are many layers, and sometimes the decisions we want to make would not be the best for the people we have to look out for. Sometimes we have to make very difficult decisions indeed. Does that make sense?”
“I understand that people of your position have to make choices that affect many. But if you were free of all that, who would you side with?”
Simon thought about his answer very carefully before he gave voice to it. He was taking a huge gamble. But, then again, he had very little to lose at the moment.
“I have only ever supported Her Majesty. I am a believer that our rulers were chosen for a reason. I regret that I have made some desperate decisions to spare my people what abuse I could, and I don’t regret those decisions. That doesn’t mean I thought they were right.”
Katherine placed the plate of pie in front of him before taking her seat again. She carefully lifted a pot of tea and refilled his mug.
He studied her closely as she poured, a bite of pie hanging on a fork inches from his mouth.
“I’m pleased to hear you support the Queen,” she said softly. “Down here there is so little difference of opinion. It is beyond dull.”
Declan breathed a little more easily. “I’m glad I took a gamble and trusted you, Katherine. I feared you might have poisoned me if you found my views contrary to yours. I didn’t think anyone as smart as you could follow a madman like Emelian Krasik.”
She watched him for a moment before smiling again, “Lord Declan, I have some secrets I’ve kept from you too. For the moment, I believe we can agree to trust one another.” She took a slow breath before she began.
“I have a friend, a friend I’m very fond of, even if he doesn’t know it. He left here last year before Harvest, but we were children together. I would no sooner betray him than my own mother.”
Declan nodded slowly.
“My husband went off to war, fighting for that madman. He was killed while guarding a very dangerous place, I believe it’s called the Drakleyn. The very idea of my idiot husband standing guard on such a place is laughable, at least to me. I married him in a fit of girlish hurt. I thought he would be more like my friend, as they had been boys together.”
Declan was now growing very anxious. There was a new look in her eye. The flirty girl of mere moments ago had melted into a formidable woman.
“My husband, Pyotr, was killed by the very boy he grew up with. I won’t go into the details. I believe it to have been an accident of sorts. I know my friend was hurt by it, probably more than he would ever let on to me.
“I felt no sorrow at my husband’s death. He made a fool’s mistake, and he paid for it with his life. I feel sorry that my friend had to hurt over killing a man of such small worth.”
She stood. He could tell she was getting upset. He was now terrified of what she was going to say next, less because of her words and more from the look on her face.
“I learned all of this not that long ago, in a letter,” she walked to the cupboard and withdrew a heavy envelope. The letter was obviously of some length, and on fine parchment. His heart sank further when she tossed the letter on the table.
“But more than feeling the hurt of Pyotr’s death, I realized once again that, though I’ve been witless around him, or cold to him, my friend still loves me. Perhaps not in the way I once hoped for, but he cares for me.
“He sent me gold, and told me to look after myself. That we were headed for dark times, and he never wanted to see hurt or sorrow come to my door. He was the dearest friend I have ever had, and now he’s probably dead because people like you had to make some ‘desperate decisions’.”
She was in tears as she sat back down. Declan imagined they were the most bitter tears she’d ever cried. She leaned close to him, her voice just above a growl, “So when I asked you which side you supported in this stupid war, you were wrong to trust me. Had you given an unsatisfactory answer, you would have a knife between your shoulders right now. Because every person who is against him is against me too.”
Declan dared to glance away from her fierce glare, staring down at the seal and signature at the letter’s end. He stiffened. The golden wax, imprinted with three bearded heads of wheat, was all the information he needed. Still, he read the inscription in astonishment.
Your loving friend, Aleksei Drago.
From the date signed below, Declan realized that the Lord Captain must have sent this out days before the invasion of Kalinor. This was a final letter begging forgiveness, from a man who knew he was about to die.
Declan felt tears wet his cheeks, and was surprised to find himself crying. He reached out a hand and placed it lightly over Katherine’s. “Dear girl, I am so very sorry for your pain. Know that you are one of the people that men of my station are supposed to protect.”
She withdrew her hand, “I don’t want an apology, Lord Declan. I want my friend back. But I can’t have him back, because his life was lost to some ‘desperate decisions’. So I’ll settle for avenging him any way I can.”
Declan nodded his understanding, “I lost a very dear friend of mine to this nonsense, too. His death left me with the choice of meeting the same fate, or throwing my lot in with a bunch of corrupt, foolish, power-hungry old men.
“Forgive me for being yet another foolish old man, one too concerned with power and with survival to have stood up for himself, and for all the people out there like you, who understand the difference between right and wrong. That there is always a difference.”
Katherine studied him for a long moment, her deep mahogany eyes boring into him, as though assessing his soul. He felt fear clutch at his heart, fear that he would be found wanting. He had been in the presence of the Demon, and yet he was petrified by this slip of a girl in a way that Krasik, Bael, and Perron combined could have never managed.
The moment dragged on interminably before she finally managed a small smile, composing herself somewhat. “Lord Declan. Simon. I must be the one to apologize. I wrongly took my feelings out on you, but you didn’t take Aleksei from me. You helped make it possible, but men like Bertrand Perron and Emelian Krasik would have had their way with or without your compliance.”
Declan agreed to the truth of that. He sat there a long moment, staring into his cup before it slipped nervelessly from his fingers.
It shattered, spilling tea across the table and into his lap. He looked up, ignoring everything else but the memory. Gods, how long ago had it been?
She was watching him, caution heavy in her eyes.
“Dear girl, I’ve just remembered something important. Something about the Lord Capt…your friend.”
She straightened in her seat. “What do you know?” she whispered.
Declan closed his eyes. His memory surrounding the destruction of the garrison in Mornj was foggy at best. When he’d awoken in this place, it had all seemed like some horrific nightmare. He’d started to doubt if it had even really happened.
But it had. And now he remembered those screams, remembered that terrible wrath anew.
And he recalled its architect.
“I saw him,” he breathed, trying to put the pieces together.
“Aleksei?” she shouted in her excitement, “You saw Aleksei? When? Where?”
Declan shook his head, “No, not Aleksei, child. I saw....” He frowned. How in the name of the gods was he going to explain this?
“I saw Jonas, the Prince, and Aleksei’s bonded Magus.”
Katherine sat back, confused. “I know of the Prince, but not very much. Aleksei mentions him in his letter. He says Jonas has made him as happy anyone he’s ever met. It sounded like he was in love.”
Declan sighed. Gods, how was he going to explain Archanium Knights to this girl? “Katherine, I’m afraid it’s all very complicated. Knights and Magi form bonds. Bonds of magic. When they do, they become joined.”
