Chapter 20 Seraphina
Chapter twenty
Seraphina
The chill wind swirled around her, tugging at her clothing, numbing her fingertips, as if the waking world were determined to mirror the world of her nightmare. Ignoring the cold as best she could, she buried her hands within the folds of her simple cloak and forged onward.
Her booted feet crunched on the autumn leaves.
Her breath misted before her.
She couldn’t believe she had let Olivia talk her into this.
It had been well over a decade since the last time they had snuck out of the palace together.
They were grown women in their thirties now, not mischievous teenagers.
Her country was at war. Her people expected her to be queenly. Responsible.
What if she were assassinated in these woods and left her kingdom with no one to succeed her? No heir? She supposed Aldric would have the best claim to the throne now that they were wed. Coreto would oppose his claim, though.
Her godparents surely would as well.
She’d much rather have an Umberly on the throne of Elmoria than any of the Duke of Coreto’s kin. House Threston would throw her people into disarray with their pagan faith—worshipers of the Lady Below that they were.
The cottage Olivia had spoken about became visible through the trees just up ahead. It was a squat structure with a sagging roof, framed by overgrown foliage. She might have almost thought it was abandoned were it not for the lights gleaming in the windows.
And the sight of her Crow’s large warhorse tied up in the trees nearby.
Her throat grew tight at the sight of the great black beast.
Aldric truly was here. This was it.
Her hand slipped toward the dagger strapped at her hip, fingertips worrying at the leather-wrapped hilt. This had been a mistake. There was still time for them to turn back. Their own horses weren’t too far away.
She parted her lips, just about to tell Olivia that they should go, when a sound drifted from the direction of the cottage. A sound that stopped her dead in her tracks.
It was the sound of Aldric…laughing.
Not with scorn. Or bitterness. But simple amusement. Happiness. Joy.
He was happy. For once, her husband sounded…happy.
Olivia paused and turned to look at her, her head canted with an unspoken question.
Seraphina met her friend’s eyes in the darkness and mouthed without sound, “I can’t do this.”
Without a word, Olivia took her by the hand and crept closer to the little cottage, dragging her along as she went. Even with her bad leg and her rat-topped cane helping her walk, her Spymaster moved much more quietly than she ever could.
She was sure Aldric would hear her coming. Each step sounded like a great thud to her own ears. Her breath rattled loudly through the night.
The cottage loomed closer. Through the part in the threadbare curtains, she caught sight of him at last sitting at a table with a woman. A beautiful woman with shoulder-length hair in a rich shade of umber, dusky skin, and dark eyes to match. She was clearly Drakmori.
But she dressed like a Kunishi.
Her hair was styled in simple braids. A high-necked robe draped loosely on her form. Smiling, she shuffled a deck of cards while Aldric spoke to her, rumbling something she couldn’t hear.
Her heart stilled when she recognized the game they were playing—her own favorite: Sovereign. Even though Aldric had called it a child’s game. Even though he had taunted her for enjoying it so.
She had seen enough.
Leaning closer to Olivia, she whispered, “I want to go.”
Through the window, she watched Aldric push himself away from the table and slip to his feet. He seemed to be wandering into another room. The kitchen perhaps? Now was the perfect time to escape.
She squeezed Olivia’s hand.
Her friend nodded and led the way around the side of the cottage, moving slowly, cautiously, sticking close to the wall as they cut across the front of the house. That seemed to be the quickest way back to the horses—
The front door flew open just as Olivia was about to pass it.
Seraphina’s scream caught in her throat as Aldric stepped out into the night, his glaive held threateningly before him. His face was masked in shadow, his expression a mystery. But she knew he must not have recognized them when he abruptly cracked the pole of his weapon against Olivia’s legs.
Her best friend crumpled, releasing her hand.
Aldric angled the sharp blade of his glaive downward, as if he intended to spear Olivia like a fish. Assuming her friend didn’t slice open his ankle first with the dagger now firmly gripped in her hand.
Panic seized her. “No!” Seraphina shouted, finding her voice again as she dove between the two of them. She couldn’t let them hurt each other. She couldn’t stand the thought.
Aldric froze. After a moment’s pause, he tossed his glaive aside.
It clattered to the cottage floor.
Unarmed, he lunged toward her quicker than he had any right to move. Both of his hands grasped her left arm and tugged her off balance toward the shaft of light spilling through the open doorway.
Gasping, she tumbled to one knee, landing hard against the soft earth just before the cottage. Blinking against the light, she cautiously dared a glance upward.
The Crow released his breath on a slow hiss. “Sera…” One of his hands lifted to knock the flat cap clean off her head. Her hair spilled free. “Should I be flattered that you’re now spying on me personally instead of just sending your attack weasel?”
She hated the way he said her name. She hated the way he spoke to her.
Low. Rough. Almost intimate.
Like they meant anything at all to each other.
“Let me go,” she whispered, trying to rip her arm free.
But his grip merely tightened. “Not until you tell me why you’re skulking about out here.” Though she still couldn’t see his face well, she could hear the shift in his tone when he growled, “I could have killed you.”
Annoyed. Her Crow was annoyed with her again.
Movement flashed past the corner of her eye, almost too fast for her to track. Olivia. “She said to let her go,” her friend snarled just as she embedded her dagger straight into Aldric’s boot, stabbing his foot.
He roared in pain, releasing her arm at once.
“No!” Seraphina shouted again, but it was too late.
With his other foot, Aldric stomped hard on Olivia’s right hand in retaliation. Something crunched. A string of curses and death threats tumbled from her friend’s lips.
From further within the cottage, a woman’s voice boomed, “What in the name of the Lord is going on out here?” Suddenly, another figure appeared—a Lothmeeran woman taller even than Olivia and twice as broad, with deep russet skin, a head of close-cropped gray curls, and dark brown eyes agleam with suspicion.
She stood with one of her strong arms wrapped protectively around the shoulders of the pretty Drakmori Aldric had been playing Sovereign with. But her other hand held a longsword still housed within its scabbard. A scabbard emblazoned with the golden sun of the Lord overlaid atop a flaming sword.
The emblem of a holy knight—a member of the Church’s military forces.
Seraphina blinked and shot her husband a bewildered look.
What was he doing with one of the High Shepherd’s knights?
“Nothing, Dame Florence,” Aldric bit out, his voice strained, brittle. “Just my wife come for a visit.”
Dame Florence frowned and looked toward her instead, where she still knelt on the ground, stunned. “Sure didn’t sound like nothing,” the lady knight grumbled. “All that racket was scaring Reyla.”
Reyla.
Seraphina studied the Drakmori woman curiously.
She didn’t look scared. She didn’t look much of anything.
Her expression was perfectly deadpan as she gazed off to the side, seemingly looking at nothing in particular.
Beneath the weight of Dame Florence’s arm, Reyla even rocked from side to side and hummed a little tune to herself, seemingly content.
While Seraphina knelt there, trying to make sense of this strange situation, Olivia scrambled backward, clutching her right hand against her chest. Murder flashed in her friend’s eyes. “You broke my hand, Crow.”
Without missing a beat, Aldric snarled, “You stabbed my foot, Weasel.”
“You’re a mounted unit,” Olivia snapped back. “You don’t need your feet.”
“I need them to walk—”
“Aldric,” Seraphina softly interrupted, lifting her eyes to his shadowed face. “What’s going on?” None of this was making any sense. This couldn’t be what she and Olivia had first thought it was.
Could it?
Without a word, her Crow held out his hand to her. Cautiously, she accepted it and let him help her to her feet. She felt terribly out of place now, standing before these other women in the middle of the night, dressed in only one of Olivia’s simple shirts and a pair of men’s trousers.
Twitching her cloak tighter about herself, she did her best to stand perfectly still beneath Dame Florence’s sharp scrutiny and Reyla’s apparent disinterest.
“Dame Florence, Lady Reyla,” Aldric rumbled, gesturing toward her person as he made introductions, “this is Seraphina de la Croix, the Queen of Elmoria. And her attack weasel, Olivia.”
Using her cane, Olivia slowly eased herself back to her feet. “I’d prefer ‘Spymaster’ or ‘attack rat,’ if you don’t mind.”
But Aldric ignored her. Instead, he gestured toward the two women within the cottage while further introducing, “Wife, this is Dame Florence and Reyla Hargrave.”
All the air rushed from her lungs. Reyla Hargrave? Did that mean…?
Softer still, he explained, almost reluctantly, “She’s my little sister.”