Chapter 7 Where Promises End
Chapter seven
Where Promises End
Milena’s naturally creamy face darkened into a stormy cloud, her golden-brown tresses flaring like lightning instead of sunrays. Her glare bore a hole into Lark’s soul, forcing her to relive every pang of anguish. In that moment, the world went away.
“You promised,” Milena clipped. She flicked up her chin, inhaling sharply through her nose. “You promised me.”
Resigned to face her fate, Lark walked out to meet Milena, who stood a dozen meters away, arms crossed in a closed stance.
“I know, and I tried.” Lark opened her palms at her sides in surrender.
“The truth is, there was no medicine—not until the team I joined went out to find some. I hoped we’d return in time. ”
“Well, you didn’t. I always knew you were stormborn, but I never took you for a rustin’ sack of buzzard bait.”
Lark stopped short, the woman she’d adored, suddenly a stranger. “I loved Tommy too.”
“I don’t believe it,” Milena accused. “You didn’t even come home for his funeral. All these months you’ve stayed away because you’re a coward. You couldn’t face us after what you did. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re right.” The words fell from Lark’s lips like teardrops. “But not entirely. Don’t you see what’s happening? We’re at war. The Iron Republic has invaded, and Queen Frost needs me.”
“Needs you?” Milena scoffed. “The queen needs you?” She took a menacing step closer and jabbed a finger into Lark’s chest. “I needed you! You left me to grieve alone, and I’ll never forgive you for that.” Bitterness bit her words and darted from her eyes.
“I loved Tommy as much as you, if more like a brother,” Lark retorted in her defense. “And I never stopped loving you. It was true when we were children, and it’s true now. But things have changed along with my responsibilities. I’m in VERT now, helping defend our country against our enemies.”
“Whatever the hell that is,” Milena muttered, her glare unwavering. “Lark, you used to be about protecting Saltmarsh Reach—your home. You broke your promise. You abandoned us.”
“I didn’t abandon you. I’m here now.”
Milena snorted, curled her lip, and retreated a step.
“A day late and a dollar short. Everyone else might give you a warm welcome, praise, and appreciation, but you won’t get that from me.
I’d prefer never to see or speak to you again.
” When she spun on her heel, it was as if an icy blast slapped Lark in the face.
“Milena, please,” she called after her. “I fought for Tommy. I did what I could, but there was no medicine to be had. Don’t you understand?”
“Void take you, Lark Sutter.” Milena strode away, her back to Lark a reminder that things would never be the same between them.
A hollow sadness, dry and cold, formed in her chest, threatening to suck away every ounce of joy she’d ever known.
A friendship that had shaped Lark’s every memory was dead, and there was nothing she could do to revive it.
Before, she’d held out a glimmer of hope that Milena would understand, that she’d forgive her, and they could move past it.
It proved to be a fool’s hope in the end.
A tear trickled down her cheek as she watched Milena turn a corner out of sight.
Leif’s arm stretched around her shoulders. He must have grown an inch while she’d been gone.
“She hasn’t been the same since …”
Lark wiped her face and met her brother’s gaze.
“We know you did all you could. Gramma said, even with the antibiotics, few recover from a mutant bite. We all loved Tommy, but it wasn’t your fault. Come on. I’ve got that pillow. What’s military life done to you—turn you into a softy?”
A chuckle sneaked past Lark’s pain. “You try sitting down after you’ve been shot in the ass.”
Gramma organized a community potluck that evening to feed the visiting troops.
Rowena and Hank Hayes brought the bread, Leif and Lark provided pheasant and duck, while most residents of the village showed up with a dish to share.
Jokes and pleasant conversation abounded as patriotic marshlanders fought over who would house a Marine overnight.
After informing the group that Skye would stay at her house, Lark retired early, the events of the day having exhausted her physically and emotionally.
It wasn’t long before Gramma shuffled into her candle-lit room. Lark had the window above her bed open, and a mosquito net lay over her. The night air was stifling in the steel compartment, but the familiar bed provided comfort.
“Those were quite some adventures you’ve been on,” Gramma said. Lark glanced up at her kind, wrinkled face, her gray hair wound into a bun, the light cotton fabric of her blouse.
At least she doesn’t hate me. That, I couldn’t abide. Then again, Gramma was much older than Milena and had endured so many tragedies that she’d grown understanding and cultivated forgiveness.
“Now, tell me about this Azaleen Frost.” She settled into the chair near Lark’s bed, a playful smile curving her lips. “I get the feeling she’s more than merely a queen to you.”
“Gramma!” Lark laughed and shook her head, but thinking about Azaleen always brightened her mood.
“I know you,” she said. “Queen or not, I must judge for myself if she’s good enough for my girl.”
“You’re incorrigible.” Lark rolled toward her and propped on an elbow.
“She’s worthy—I assure you—though I’m not sure what the future will bring.
You know she’s older, which is good. She’s dealt with loss and is still a loving mother and daughter.
She’s smart and decisive, and, although she seems stiff and cold, she really cares about our people. ”
“And you?”
Lark smiled, warmth seeping back into her soul. “She cares about me too.”
“I’m happy for you, Lark,” Gramma said in a reserved tone, “if you go into this with your eyes open. I see no way forward for the queen of our nation and an army private to have a future together. One day at a time with no expectations for tomorrow is the way to navigate this. As long as you understand she’ll always put Verdancia first—”
“I know,” said Lark. “I would expect nothing less of her. But about you. Have Leif and Bryn been taking care of you? Dad says to tell you hi, and he loves you, by the way.”
“Yes, well, I worry about him the most, out there at Marchland on the border. They’ll be the Republic’s prime target—you mark my words.”
“Oh, Gramma, you should see the fortress on the bluffs,” Lark said without thinking.
“Picture it: high above the wide river, walls of stone and iron, cannons commanding the position, a garrison twelve thousand strong. They can repel attacks from forces four times their number with ease. And Dad’s no slouch. He knows how to handle himself.”
Even as she chose her words to reassure her grandmother, concern for her father and the citadel churned in her gut. She remembered hearing about the size of the Iron Army and agreed that Marchland would be their prime target. The Republic couldn’t conquer Verdancia without first taking Marchland.
“If you say so.” Gramma relaxed. “I tended to that young foreigner you brought in while you and Leif were out hunting. Nasty bites, and he might lose half of that arm, but at least it was a gator, not a warg, that got to him. I sanitized his wounds with the strong stuff, applied a poultice, and bandaged him up. Best leave him here if you want him alive. It’ll be weeks before he can travel. ”
“Thank you, Gramma. He’s just a common sailor, and none of this is his fault. Those Republic guys didn’t even know what an alligator was. Might lose his arm? Poor fella.”
Gramma shifted in her seat. “Well, not much’s changed here while you were gone.
Talon Jones added two more foals to his herd.
One of Gillian’s cows took sick and died.
Bryn has pestered me more than you ever did.
Sho’ ‘nough, I wish you were here to entertain her some days.” She laughed.
“But I feel a little safer knowin’ you’re on the job out there.
Shot three times? Saints alive.” Gramma shook her head. “I thought you were faster than that.”
“I was fast, Gramma,” Lark said. “That’s why the bullets hit me instead of Azaleen. Thankfully, AlgonCree has modern hospitals. I’ll be fine.” Settling back onto her pillow, she added, “Just need a little more taking it easy, and I’ll be good as new.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“You raised me right, Gramma. I know I failed Tommy and Milena, but I hope I don’t fail you. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t make promises except that I’ll do my best.”
“Milena’s in a state right now—nothin’ any of us can do for her. Your best is always good enough for me.” Ease fell over Lark at her grandmother’s words. Her eyelids grew heavy.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, where do you want me?” Skye asked as she entered the cozy room.
Lark threw back the net. “My bed should fit two if you don’t hog all the space. Skye, you remember meeting my grandmother, Inez?”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Sutter.” Skye let her pack slide off her shoulder to the floor and took Inez’s hand. “Lark’s stories were no exaggeration.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s made a steadfast friend like you.” Gramma rose and took hold of the cane propped by her chair. “I’ll say goodnight and let you young’uns get your beauty rest. Cornbread, eggs, and sausage when you wake.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Sutter,” Skye bade.
“Night, Gramma.” Lark was asleep before Skye crawled into bed.
The team spent two days relaxing and enjoying the community of Saltmarsh Reach, while Lieutenant Griffith and the troop trucks set out in search of more Iron Navy sailors who might have washed ashore.
Lark went fishing with Leif and caught up with some other friends.
Milena remained conspicuously absent—a relief.
At least Lark didn’t have to suffer under more of her wrath.
However, she and Leif engaged in several heated arguments when he kept insisting he should enlist. “You’re needed more here, Leif,” Lark declared. “And you’re too young for the army.”
“Six months,” he’d snapped. “Then I can go to New Charleston and attend training.”
“I hope the war’s over by then.” Lark meant it, though she doubted it.
Gramma’s cooking helped Lark regain strength while Skye continued caring for her wounds. The VERT lieutenant’s verdict: Lark would live.
They said their goodbyes and loaded into the jeep, refilling the tank from ethanol cans they’d brought. Luke and Harlan revved their motorbikes, and they were off, winding along cracked roads, traveling from village to village.
Their first day in Saltmarsh Reach, Skye had sent a pigeon to the capital reporting the town hadn’t been attacked. Three stops later, she sent another. It appeared the Iron Navy had ignored the backwater coastal hamlets and had headed straight for Verdancia’s Atlantic port.
The landscape changed when they arrived at Fort Jasper.
The team stopped on a distant hilltop overlooking the riverfront stronghold, not far from the sandy beaches of the Gulf.
Harlan adjusted his binoculars. “Damn.” He lowered them, a grave look on a face that had grown scruffy without a proper shave in days.
“What is it?” Diego asked, reaching for the binoculars.
Luke grabbed them first. “We’ll have to send word immediately. The red-and-black Republic flag flies over the fort, and a couple of their ships are anchored in the river.”
The distinctive keow squawk of gulls sounded as the birds squabbled overhead. A breeze rustled the leaves around them, carrying the scents of salt and honeysuckle. Lark’s heart sank. New Charleston wasn’t a one-off. The war just became real.