Chapter 43
Reynard
Amap of Dagome lay across a heavy oak table as my commanders discussed the relocation of our army. I stared at it, but all I could see was the line cutting my kingdom in half, separating the south. A line of srebrec pillars – a festering wound that wouldn’t heal until I tore it apart.
‘It’s going to be difficult moving the heavy cavalry through that area, sire. They’re still stuck in the Wiosna mountains. The blizzards there…’ Ivar said loud enough that I noticed he was addressing me.
‘And the mages can’t even come close to those things,’ Marius said, his lips twisted in disgust. ‘Every mage I sent there collapsed within hours.’
I nodded, my mind drifting to Sana’s proposal. I’d dismissed it initially, but the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that was exactly what we needed: time, spring, and allies.
‘What should we do, sire?’ Ivar asked when I didn’t comment on their initial revelations.
‘Move the army from Wiosna, but in small units. That will give the dwarves a chance to pull themselves out of the hole M?ot left them in.’
Ivar frowned. ‘But sire, the winter–’
‘Winter shouldn’t stop a well-trained army. Take it slow and give them plenty of rest, but I want them in garrisons near the Tivalaran border within a month.’ I turned to Marius. ‘Same with the battlemages; move them as close to the border as it is safe.’
‘Yes, sire,’ he answered, the tight set of his jaw expressing his disapproval.
‘Would you prefer searching for void cubes with the Brotherhood and the university mages?’ I asked casually, and his face drained of colour.
‘Your orders will be completed within two weeks,’ he said.
I issued more orders, concentrating on securing the new southern border, before dismissing my commanders and leaving Riordan and Ivar in the room.
‘Speak freely,’ I said, pouring wine into three goblets and pushing two in their direction.
Ivar looked uncertain, but after taking a sip, he blurted out: ‘We can’t have another winter campaign. The men are exhausted, and with all this srebrec malarky, the brunt of the fight will fall onto the common soldiers’ shoulders.’
‘And what do you say?’ I looked at Riordan.
‘The Brotherhood Observers report Tangra soldiers gathering everywhere in Tivalaran. Even without bringing their main force, it doesn’t feel like our land anymore.’ He sighed. ‘Did anything Roksana retrieved tell us the location of these Wey Gates?’
I nodded, pointing to a small plateau between Piran’s Swamp and the salty marshes of Reva Town. The place was difficult to access and close to the Lumivitae borders, with a small population of Light Fae.
‘There’s only one as far as we know. You’re right, we can’t afford another winter campaign, and we can’t attack with srebrec towers active… so we will have a ball.’ I finished with a grin while both men looked at me as if I’d descended into madness.
‘Now’s not the time…’ Riordan started, but paused, seeing my smile.
‘It’s exactly the right time. As much as I’d love to march to Tivalaran and hang that old bastard by the balls outside his city walls, we need to delay the confrontation.
’ I let my voice trail away before ringing the bell and asking the servant to fetch my scribe.
The young man entered, bowing to us as he positioned himself next to the desk, awaiting my orders.
‘Draft an invitation for the Gromnitca ball,’ I said, enjoying way too much the scowl on Ivar’s face. ‘Invite the Lumivitae court, especially the herald and his wife. Make sure Lord Tivala gets one, and add a note that the Tangrean preceptor is welcome to join.’
‘Reynard!’ Riordan’s response only deepened my smile.
‘I will speak with Veles himself if this buys us time.’ My harsh answer left both men staring at me in shock.
‘We don’t have the resources to fight right now, and I need a Light Fae to decipher the Wey Gate schemata.
The only one I trust is Lilliana, who, by chance, is the wife of the Lumivitae herald and my future wife’s best friend. ’
They understood the plan, but neither looked happy. I must have looked the same when Roksana had charged into my office with her insane proposal. I hated it with every fibre of my being, but Sana was unyielding, and I’d come to agree with her.
‘But sire… Tivala? Tangra? What message will it send to our men, to the nobles?’ Ivar asked, but I had my answer for him.
‘It shows them we are not afraid. That standing between his daughter and the woman who killed his son, I hold the power to destroy the south, while he’s just a puppet of an enemy empire.
’ I raised my goblet in a mocking salute.
‘And while he chokes on my hospitality, I’ll have men crossing into Tivalaran by the very swamp he failed to guard. ’
Riordan exhaled and raised his glass too. ‘I see you’ve thought it all through. I’ll drink to your plan’s success, and to the woman who tamed a berserker’s heart without even trying.’
Ivar didn’t move, but the look he gave Ri could’ve melted steel.
I frowned, unsure where he was going with that comment.
Riordan’s smug expression didn’t bode well for me.
‘Even planning a campaign, you can’t stop thinking about what ring to give her.
My advice? Ensure the stone is green; Roksana will care little about anything else. ’
I wanted to curse the damned psychic mage for peering into my mind.
He’d chosen the moment I imagined I announcing our betrothal, staring right into Tivala’s face, and forcing him to kneel for Sana.
My Viper, though, wanted to put the ordeal behind her.
I wasn’t sure I could. Last night, as I held her trembling body in my arms, I promised to destroy the bastard and do it slowly.
Death would never be enough. I wanted him humbled, on his knees, begging for her forgiveness, for a mercy that would never come…
and gods, I would revel in his suffering.
‘Well, that escalated quickly,’ Riordan muttered, and I realised he was still attuned to my thoughts. One sharp look, and he raised his hands in surrender. ‘I never said you were wrong, just… You have an interesting view on the betrothal party.’
I shook my head, placing my goblet back on the table.
‘You are my mage, not my conscience. Stop peeking into my mind.’ The sweet wine’s aftertaste lingered on my tongue when I dismissed them, a gentle tingling reminder of my woman.
With most of today’s issues handled, I had one more thing to resolve.
After that, I planned to lock the bedroom door and use all my charm to divert her worry for the missing fae courtesan.
I needed her father’s blessing. Well, not needed, but Sana loved Boyan, and I respected the old fox. For her happiness, I would submit myself to the old-as-time lecture: “Treat my daughter well or else…”
I smiled at my thoughts and called for my valet, intending to dress for the occasion. I enjoyed the giddiness it caused. I had a war to win and enemies to outsmart, but tonight, all that mattered was a dying criminal’s opinion on whether he deemed the King of Dagome worthy of his daughter.
The Chapter House was muted. From the guards’ grim faces to the hushed voices whispering in dark corridors, the atmosphere was sombre.
I heralded my arrival with a brief note, making Irsha aware of my presence.
Now, walking behind a guide, I was close to enquiring about the situation.
I refrained. Asking intrusive questions in a place like this would be instantly seen as hostile.
‘The Grand Master awaits your pleasure, sire.’ My guide bowed his head respectfully, leaving me at a heavy oak door.
I knocked, and when no one answered, I pushed the door open.
The pungent smell of salve and nivale root made me wince.
The room was dark, with heavy curtains drawn tight, the only light present the soft glow of candles and fae lamps.
Several faces turned towards me, but I saw only Roksana, my heart aching for her. She nodded, wiping tears from her pale face. The other men drew back, giving her space when she rose from the bed, revealing the dying man behind her.
‘You can come closer. It’s the graveyard cough, and the stubborn…
Father refused my help.’ Her broken voice was calm, but I heard the pain.
I crossed the room without caring about protocol, taking Sana into my arms. The sob she released against my chest was her only surrender to sadness, hidden from everyone else in the room by my embrace.
With a slow, shuddering breath, Sana straightened. ‘Can you… order him to let me help?’
A single tear rolled down her cheek before she wiped it away.
‘I can’t, Viper.’ I looked at the husk of a man who’d helped depose a tyrant. We each observed the other before coming to a silent accord. ‘I respect your father and won’t betray him by ignoring his decision. His death, just like his life, belongs only to him.’
Boyan nodded to me, his lips pulling back into a blood-stained smile. ‘You wanted to see me, King of Dagome? Be quick and tell me what I can do for you while I’m still breathing.’
I pulled away from Sana and approached her father’s bed, kneeling before him. My earlier happiness felt inappropriate in the face of his impending death. However, this would likely be my last chance to talk to him.
‘I’m marrying your daughter.’ I wasn’t asking for permission, and the smirk on his face told me how it amused him.
‘I came to inform you that everything I do is for Sana. I want you to know that her burdens will be mine to carry, that her smile will be my guide…’ I paused when a racking cough shook his body, and more blood-stained sputum frothed on his lips.
‘I’ll make her happy, Boyan. I swear on my life I’ll do whatever it takes to make Roksana happy. ’
‘But you’re taking her from the Brotherhood,’ he said, and I paused, unsure how to answer. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t. It was Sana’s choice to make.