19 Rhona
Rhona
Muscle soreness was a sign of a successful mission, and after saving Lady Heathecote’s life the night before, Rhona had run
to three other noble houses that had been set on fire to make sure the residents were also safe from the blazes burning in
their homes. Now, she stood in the lord general’s office with the six other Iron Retinue knights who had led the charge the
night before.
“Good morning,” Lord General Kerrigan spoke from the table covered in the map of Astra.
The six of them saluted, already in their plate armor, most of them late for their morning post because they’d been summoned
for this gathering. Rhona wondered if Lord Wilmer would drunkenly fall off the precipice without her there.
“The arson on the Iron Empire’s noble houses last night was a clear and coordinated attack,” the lord general intoned, tracing
his finger over the southwestern most part of the map where the Corisian Empire lay. “I have reports from our commanders that
there were several people spotted running from the manors as they were set ablaze.”
The knights in the room stood in silence as they waited to hear what else the lord general had to say. Rhona had never known anyone who could enrapture people like Lord General Kerrigan could. The Iron Retinue hung on to each of his words as if they were the key to their next breaths.
“We successfully captured one of the fugitives and have placed him into our prison on-site,” he continued. “We believe he
is of Corisian descent and was sent here to sow chaos in the Iron Empire.”
“How have we determined the prisoner is telling the truth?” Rhona blurted out before she could think better of it.
Every head in the room turned to look at her, and she nervously noted the lord general quaking in quiet rage as she realized
she had interrupted him in front of six of his knights.
“My apologies, Lord General.” She quickly bowed and saluted again.
“It is a good question,” he said after a long pause, forcing her to sit in a salute for longer than most ever had to. “And
the answer is, yes, we have utilized the witch in the dungeons to determine if the prisoner was speaking truth or not.”
Rhona felt a pang of disgust upon recalling that the Iron Empire kept one of the witches they’d used to seek out other witches
in the dungeons. Part of her, small though it might be, felt like it was crueler to keep the witch alive rather than just
kill her like all of her comrades had been killed. She supposed it came in useful when they needed to determine if someone
was being honest, though, and in times of war, the Iron Empire needed to do what they must for the safety of Astra’s people.
“I have gathered you here today to thank you for your work and speed last night. A midnight attack was unexpected and will
result in changes to how we operate and handle our duties going forward.”
“Yes, Lord General,” the six echoed in unison, Rhona quieter than usual as fear from her interruption percolated in her gut.
“We have rested on our laurels too long, the peace since the uprising lulling us into a false sense of security here at the
capital. But the Iron Retinue is strong, and we overtook magic and monsters to bring this empire back to the glory it once
had.”
“Yes, Lord General,” the knights echoed again.
“Your commander will notify you of changes to your posts and schedules within the next day. You are dismissed. May the iron
in your blood strengthen the iron in your sword.”
“May the iron in your blood strengthen the iron in your sword,” the six echoed one final time before leaving the room sharply.
“Sir Rhona,” Lord General Kerrigan called before she shut the door. “A word.”
Rhona stepped back into the room, closing the door behind her and turning toward the lord general. Rhona felt a sharp sting
as the lord general slapped her across the face. Hard. She stumbled slightly, her face hot and aching. If he’d hit her any
harder, he might have broken her jaw.
Lord General Kerrigan’s hand remained suspended in the air as they locked eyes. “You dare to interrupt your lord general?”
he said, slowly lowering his arm.
“Lord General, I am sorry. It was an error in judgment. I was excited to learn we’d captured one of the vigilantes.” Rhona
stumbled through her words, eyes downcast.
Lord General Kerrigan grabbed her face and forced her to look into his eyes, pain tearing through the spot he’d just brutally
hit. “We all make mistakes, and I forgive you. But do it again, and I’ll make sure you’re removed from this retinue, understand?”
“Yes, Lord General,” she said through the cage of his fingers, her jaw barely able to move so she could speak. Fear rippled
through her as her face throbbed. The Iron Retinue was everything to her; she couldn’t lose it.
He tossed his hand away, pushing her back before he turned back to the table. “You’re dismissed.”
As she left the lord general’s office, Rhona caught herself rubbing her increasingly tender cheek as she headed out to the
gardens for her guard duty.
“Sir Rhona,” an airy voice called to her. Rhona looked down to see Lady Maeve Heathecote, resplendent in a green dress and
matching parasol, falling into step beside her.
Rhona silently slowed down, knowing that a dainty noblewoman like Lady Heathecote shouldn’t have to practically run to keep
up with her.
“Lady Heathecote,” Rhona said, not looking back down to the noblewoman. If they wanted to be subtle, to keep whatever the
witch had planned under wraps, she needed to treat her like anyone else.
“What happened?” she asked, pointing to Rhona’s cheek.
“A lesson,” Rhona answered gruffly.
“Hmm,” Lady Heathecote said, adjusting the lace glove she wore. “I suppose it’s not surprising that those who incited a violent
uprising would choose to use violence as a primary source of education.”
Rage blossomed in Rhona’s chest. Not only was Lady Heathecote a witch who should have been rooted out and executed years ago,
but she had the audacity to speak poorly of the empire that had saved them all from the tyranny of the De Clares.
“You had best remember you’re speaking to a knight of the Iron Empire when you slander our great leader.” Rhona clasped her
hands behind her back as they shook in anger.
Lady Heathecote looked at Rhona again, a smirk on her full, berry-tinted lips. “What are you going to do? Arrest me? Hit me,
like you were hit?”
“Tread carefully, is all I’m saying.”
“I’m not slandering anything. I’m simply stating facts. The Iron Empire has made significant changes to Astra, certainly,
but they did so with exceptional violence. It’s not slander if it’s true.” Lady Maeve chuckled as she spoke, as if this was
all a joke.
“Just tread carefully,” Rhona said again, the strong warning ringing in her words. Lady Heathecote needed to be careful. Not
only around Rhona, but around anyone in the Iron Retinue.
Lady Heathecote rolled her eyes, and Rhona wondered if she’d made a massive mistake in deciding not to turn her in.
“Arguing with you about the meaning of words is not on my list of things I need to do today, but discussing what happened
yesterday is,” Lady Heathecote said, changing the subject.
Rhona looked down at her, at her tight black curls piled on her head. Lady Heathecote casually glanced around as she walked
with Rhona. If anyone looked in their direction it would seem as though they were having a cordial, common, and casual chat.
It was smart, and Rhona was realizing that the lady was much more intelligent than she let on with her noble friends. Hiding from the Iron Empire for years will make you a good liar, Rhona thought.
“You can call me Maeve, by the way,” Lady Heathecote said, her face turned to the left. “I would ask you if you’re going to
work with me on this, but I already know you’re going to.”
“Your visions have told you?” Rhona said, unable to keep the disdain from her voice.
“It’s not that clear,” Lady Heathecote responded, unperturbed. “I see things about myself and others, but it’s quite often
confusing and out of context until the thing actually happens. I had a vision about this conversation, but only this part
of it.”
“So why me?”
“I’ve had other visions,” the lady answered crisply, an edge to her voice that was new to Rhona’s ears.
Rhona waited for her to say more as they watched each other, both parties guarded and unsure. Rhona’s heart picked up into a furious beat as Lady Heathecote’s dark brown eyes bored into hers. She willed herself to stop reacting to Maeve every single time this happened, but it hadn’t worked yet.
“I was . . . working with someone else,” Maeve finally relented, giving Rhona something new. “I don’t know what happened to
them, but they disappeared from my visions. They could be dead, but it . . . I can’t describe it. It feels different in the
vision than when someone dies. They’re just a blank spot now, missing. When someone dies, there’s a sense of finality in my
visions usually, at least when I go searching for their future specifically.”
“Who were you working with?” Rhona asked, instantly curious. Had it been her prior commander? She’d always wondered if the
betrayer had secretly been hiding so much more from them than just his plans to steal from Lord General Kerrigan.
“It was someone here in the castle, and they weren’t the first person to disappear from my visions out of nowhere.” Maeve
looked up at Rhona.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Rhona said.
“I don’t think I’m ready to answer that in case they somehow manage to come back,” Maeve answered bluntly.
Anger flooded through Rhona for a moment before she realized that Maeve was probably scared too. She knew Rhona could report
her at any second, and she didn’t know that Rhona had decided, against her better judgment, not to . . . yet.
“Do you have visions about everyone?”
“I— It’s hard to explain.” Maeve sat on the bench they’d just walked by and patted the seat next to her with a hand gloved
in green lace.
Rhona looked around, scanning to see if anyone who would report back to Lord General Kerrigan was watching.
When she was safely sure that there was no one watching, she sat beside the lady, their arms briefly touching as Rhona crossed one ankle over the other.
She could feel their proximity in every cell of her body. It made her anxious.
“My visions are usually about me or people in my orbit,” Maeve said, only continuing after Rhona nodded her acknowledgment.
“But sometimes they’re about things that could affect me going forward, or things that are important. Deciphering what each
vision means to me personally is half of what I do once I have a vision. Sometimes the visions are about people outside of
Astra . . . or about people on the other side of the country, if I go looking for them.”
“Sounds exhausting,” was all Rhona said, while internally she screamed. It sounded like abuse of the natural order of the
world. No one should have the ability to see the future like that, no matter how difficult the visions were to decipher.
“It is simply my life,” Lady Maeve answered, a distant look in her eyes.
Rhona supposed she should be thankful a witch could only use the skills they were given at birth, and she supposed hard-to-piece-together
visions were less damaging than, say, fire wielding.
“What is the vision you’re currently concerned about, so concerned that you’ve decided to trust me?”
“The witch in the prison,” Lady Maeve said, and Rhona broke out in a cold sweat. “I’ve had visions of her recently, her and
whoever you captured last night—they look Corisian?”
No one was supposed to know about the witch in the cells, and no one outside of the Iron Retinue knew about the captive.
“Please look less surprised that I know about something I’m not supposed to. You’re going to need to get used to this,” Maeve
said primly. “I need you to talk to the prisoner and the witch.”
“Right, like it’s that easy,” Rhona scoffed.
“You are quite literally a knight of the Iron Empire,” Lady Maeve said. “You’re the only person who can do that.”
Rhona thought for a moment. Could she get down there? Probably. “Let’s say I was able to get down there,” Rhona relented. “What would you need to know?”
“I know you can get down there, Rhona. I’ve seen it.” She tapped the side of her head, and Rhona shuddered involuntarily.
“I need to know why they attacked the noble houses last night . . . and I need to know if Esther is okay, and what she knows.
There’s someone in my visions about her that I can’t see. There’s something going on with her.”
“Esther? You . . . know the witch?” Rhona narrowed her eyes.
“Only by name,” Lady Maeve said a little too quickly. She was clearly keeping secrets.
“If I can get down there—”
“When you get down there,” Maeve interrupted.
“I will ask some of the questions you’re hoping to get answers to,” Rhona continued, ignoring the uncomfortable interruption,
and stood abruptly. She couldn’t stay in the open with Lady Maeve for too long. It was already risky for her to be speaking
to the noblewoman alone, never mind sitting on a bench with her.
“Sounds splendid,” Lady Maeve said, brushing her hands on her skirt and leaning up as if to kiss Rhona on the cheek.
Rhona’s cheeks instantly flushed crimson and she froze, her muscles petrified. The expected kiss never came, but a whisper
did.
“I’ll find you when we need to talk next,” Maeve whispered into Rhona’s ear.
Rhona watched her turn and parade toward the gardens, so effortlessly graceful, waving at each person she passed. Rhona wasn’t
sure what she was getting herself into, but she was sure that she no longer had a choice; she was tied to Lady Maeve Heathecote
in a way she had never expected.