Chapter X Raduna #2
When we set out, Raduna’s body tightly pressed onto me as we rock together in the saddle, I try to understand why we were attacked in the first place. “Who were those people?”
“Patriotic bandits,” Raduna says with a weary sigh.
“They are the worst kind. Average bandits have a healthy survival instinct. They’d never attack a large troop of Agnidari like this.
But patriotic humans get stupid when they see us.
All they can think of is the glory and applause they might get if they slaughter an Agnidari. ”
“Bandits?” I ask, shaking my head. “How can criminals be patriots? Don’t they rob people?”
“You are right, of course,” Raduna agrees.
“It would be far more patriotic if they picked up honest work and paid their taxes. That would be logical. However, people often forget logic when making life-altering choices, such as the one between letting a few dozen heavily armed Agnidari pass undisturbed or attacking them in the woods. Most kings in the Eleven promote this sort of reckless patriotism. They spread tales about how vile we are, which makes people think attacking us is heroic.”
“When actually, it’s just plain stupid,” I mutter, thinking about how fast the Agnidari dealt with the bandits. The moment stretched, but in reality, only a few minutes passed between the first shot and Raduna emerging from the greenery with his morbid fealty.
“And Magnar fights, too?” I ask, remembering what my father said when the Agnidari invasion started.
“Don’t worry, my prize. I am not as selfish as that barbarian Tyrant, who fights with his soldiers instead of taking care of his kingdom and family. I will never leave your side.”
I remember wishing he’d go into battle just so I had a few days of peace.
Bad daughter.
“Of course he fights,” Raduna says with a gentle scoff.
“A king who orders his soldiers into battle yet stays back in the safety of his castle is weak. Every order Magnar gives he’s ready to carry out himself.
That’s why we love and respect him, and also why he always wins.
His commands are well thought-out, his strategies designed to sacrifice as few of his people as possible. He is a superb leader.”
Another memory unfolds in my mind, my father pacing around his map table while I read quietly in the gallery, hidden among the stacks and shamelessly eavesdropping.
A minister reports a troop of our soldiers was wiped out by the Agnidari, and my father sneers.
“What, those peasant boys? They never stood a chance with just two weeks of training. I need to know how much they slowed down the Tyrant. That’s all that matters.”
“By half a day, Your Grace.”
“Tsk. Useless lot.”
I knew better than to ask my father about it back then. He never liked it when I heard more than I should have, and he hated feeling judged. If I asked about his decisions too much, he’d get very angry, and his rage was usually served in the form of cold, merciless words.
“I thought you were smarter than this, but as always, you’re letting your foolish female emotions get ahead of your brain.
Don’t you know everything I do is for your good?
You’d be lost without me, little girl. No one else will ever want and cherish you like me.
No one will prize you above all else. Better get down to your knees and apologize to your father, or I’ll be forced to paddle your bottom. Go on.”
I cringe, clutching the pommel harder until my fingers grow numb. This isn’t what I want to remember. All the memory does is bring back that treacherous feeling of relief that he’s gone. I should be crying and grieving.
“What’s wrong, my queen?” Raduna asks, his voice soft.
I gasp and close my eyes, wishing for the endless well of guilt to be gone from my chest. It suffocates me.
Gods, I wish I could simply forget my father and everything he did. I wish he’d died instead of my mother all those years ago.
I am such a horrible person.
“I’m just overwhelmed,” I say when I’m certain my voice won’t crack. “Thank you for worrying about me.”
We ride in silence for a while, the forest left behind, rolling fields and meadows stretching ahead. I know we’re getting close to the border with Serilla. We’ll probably have to cross the river soon.
“My queen,” Raduna says after a while, his voice low and thoughtful. “I know this is new to you, and you will need time to adjust. Take that time, as much as you need. But I’d like you to do me a favor and consider something today.
“I am your knight. My life is yours. I am sworn to protect and serve you in every matter, and believe me when I say this, I find great pleasure and fulfillment in serving my queen. Every sorrow of your heart is my sorrow, and it would be my greatest privilege to lessen your burden. Will you please think about it?”
A horrible, ridiculous urge to cry gathers in my chest. My father’s words echo again.
“No one will cherish you like me.”
The service Raduna offers is greater than anything I’ve ever received from another person.
I am terrified to believe him, because my father was right.
Who am I to burden others with my insipid problems?
My knights have better things to do than coddle a stupid woman who isn’t even decent enough to grieve her own father.
“Thank you,” I choke out, knowing Raduna expects a reply.
“Just think about it, please.”
We don’t talk after this, Raduna whistling a cheerful melody.
The bridge on River Kahl, which is the border between Farneer and Serilla, is patrolled by a dozen Agnidari.
They let us through respectfully, their fists pressing to their chests in the Agnidari salute.
We take a short break in a village nearby, and I can’t stop staring, struck by how different the world on this side of the border looks.
This small settlement is thriving. Most workers are out in the fields, making haste in the good weather, but a bunch of human women greet us as we ride in, not afraid at all.
Three tables wait in the village green, laden with pitchers and heaps of food.
These people knew we were coming, and they made us a feast.
I take in the freshly painted buildings, gardens filled with produce, and plum trees heaving with fruit. Chickens and geese walk around freely, healthy and plump. A group of human children plays in the distance.
“Magnar took Serilla two years ago,” Raduna says, handing me a large glass of fruit compote and a plate with two sweet buns drowning in dark honey. “Serillans had plenty of time to get used to us and unlearn the horrid tales about my people.”
I bite into a bun and moan from bliss. The dough is fluffy and warm, and the sweet filling is made from forest blackberries. Maybe it’s because I’m so hungry, but this is the best bun I’ve ever had in my life, and I can’t hold back eager sounds of pleasure.
“That good?” Raduna asks before clearing his throat. The tops of his cheeks grow darker, the gray turning purplish with the faintest hint of red to match his braids, like he’s blushing. “Eat, my queen. I’ll bring you more.”
When he walks away, a woman in her fifties, with a healthy complexion and a pretty red kerchief on her head, walks over to sit by my side.
“What a strapping man,” she says with an appreciative nod. “You’ve done well for yourself, girl.”
I’m taken aback by her forward manner, but instantly realize how I must appear—with my clothes torn and stained, hat squished, and no diadem circling my brow. The woman doesn’t know I’m a princess and Magnar’s wife.
I smile and wash down the last of my second bun with the fruity drink.
“Oh, he’s not my man. He’s just… he helps me.”
The woman chuckles and shakes her head. “Young people. You have such amazing opportunities these days. When I was your age, we still thought the Agnidari were the plague. And now look, young girls marrying them left and right, living in wealth and prosperity. King Magnar is the best thing that ever happened to Serilla, you mark my words.”
I frown because this is so different from what I was told. According to courtly gossip, the people of the three kingdoms conquered by Magnar suffered greatly. But like everything else, this too seems to be a lie.
“You weren’t happy before he took over?”
The woman waves her hand dismissively. “Happy, unhappy. Sure, we were fine. There were fat years and lean years, and we did our best to survive and pay our taxes, like everyone. Except, we never got any help. Now we pay, too, and in return, the Agnidari bring us tools from Roharra, new machines for the fields, and they take some of our youths to teach them how to treat serious ailments at their university. That’s fair, I say. No one goes hungry anymore.”
She gets up with a grunt to help serve food, and I wait for Raduna, thinking about her words. It’s so confusing.
On the one hand, Magnar openly condoned rapes in my father’s castle. I saw him disembowel his own soldier publicly. He forced me into marriage.
And yet, Raduna says he’s a good leader, and the people he conquered are happy about his reign. Is he good or bad—or something in between?
I don’t know what to think.