Chapter 23
My dream-stupored mind only distantly recognized the sound of someone knocking on the door.
Renn’s stretching roused me; my head was perched quite comfortably on his chest. I couldn’t tell if the disquiet and curiosity flitting behind my skull was mine or his. Perhaps both. Dawn light licked the window ledges. In protest of the interruption, I dug my nose into his collarbone.
“That’s something I still haven’t gotten used to,” he grumbled, voice low with sleep.
I hummed into his shirt.
“Answering my own door.”
A flicker of humor through the bond.
The knock sounded again, strong and persistent.
Groaning deep in his chest, Renn kissed my hair before sitting up.
I curled into the warmth he left behind as he pulled a pair of slacks over his drawers, and almost immediately delicate twists of sorrow and despair flooded into me as the king remembered what had transpired the last four days.
I let them flow through me, trying to accept them as one might a cool breeze.
Renn opened the door. I sat up and smoothed my hair down, glimpsing first General Cuplend, and then, to my surprise, Dan. The general’s gaze locked on to Renn, but my brother’s passed directly to me.
I was almost too groggy to be embarrassed, but I couldn’t help the chagrin.
Perhaps because he sensed it, Renn closed the door against him, limiting visibility into the room.
Still, Dan had spied me, yet I saw no shock or judgment in his features.
I wondered if Brien had already spoken to him of the situation, or if he merely wasn’t surprised because he’d read my mind previously .
. . which made me wonder exactly how much he’d seen each time.
I stayed where I was, not wanting to draw attention to myself. We had done nothing but sleep, and I had nothing to be ashamed of, other than being seen in only my shift. I could just pick up what the general was saying: “—good insight into what’s to come.”
Renn turned to Dan. “Is that why I had to fish you out of the moat?”
My interest was piqued, and I slid to the edge of the bed to better hear.
Dan nodded, incredibly sober. “I read it from one of the men trying to scale the wall, Your Majesty. A directive from his commanding officer before they marched. This was only the first assault; King Nicosia has two more to follow if the first didn’t wipe us out, which it didn’t.
He sounded doubtful—the soldier I touched, I mean.
Like he thought this would be an easier claim than it was. ”
My lips parted. That was why Dan snuck outside the walls? To read the dragons’ minds?
Anger bristled in my core. Stupid boy! Surely there were more mindreaders employed elsewhere in the field to do what he’d nearly died doing.
And yet, if his information weren’t unique, the general wouldn’t have taken such an interest in him. Woken his weary king early to pass the message on.
But the coils of misery spreading from Renn had died down as concern took over. “Do we know when to expect the next army?”
Dan shook his head. “I’m afraid I couldn’t get that far, Your Majesty.”
Renn nodded. “Thank you.” Then, to General Cuplend, “Can you have the officers together in half an hour?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Do it.” And Renn closed the door.
I curled my legs beneath me. “It’s not over, then.”
Renn grabbed a fistful of hair. “It’s never over.” He steeled himself with a breath. “I have some ideas. Mind if I run them by you?”
I blinked. “I’m not a strategist, Renn.”
“Still.”
I nodded. “Please. I’ll advise you the best that I can.”
I thought it was genius.
So, too, did General Cuplend.
Others—Renn did not say who—were less enthusiastic, but surely Sesta would attack again soon, before we could fully refortify ourselves, so a decision had to be made quickly.
We would lose Derren Castle for something better.
The idea took me back to my conversation with Renn when the Antsan delegation arrived, how I’d believed we would have to give up the good thing we had now for something better in the future.
And so we would make Derren Castle as appetizing as possible.
Make it seem bristling with soldiers and citizens, housing the gods-touched king.
We would draw Nicosia’s army to the north, while we marched south.
To retake Rove.
A skeleton company would be left to man the battlements.
Tents would be erected around the walls to boast of a larger army.
The company would regularly light cookfires.
We would take uniforms from the fallen and stuff them with whatever we could find—grasses, leaves, potato skins—to station dummies on towers.
In two days’ time, we made Derren Castle look well and truly occupied.
Then we packed up everything we could carry and marched south, leaving Whitestone to be discovered by his countrymen.
The method of the march fascinated me.
The army broke up into six parts, which also divided up the crafters, leaving me and Seln the only healers to reside with Renn, Commander Stonelay, and our company.
Each part took a different route toward Rove, which lay an astounding 230 miles away—not quite the distance from Fount to Rove, but we would not be able to shorten the journey by ship.
One company went by way of the main road; another set out east before venturing southwest, adding time to their journey.
Their march would be the hardest, as it would need to be the swiftest. Renn’s company crossed through the woodland—our designated path, as seen on a map, mimicked a staircase.
Once we were well away from Derren Castle, the tracks of “retreat” masked, we, too, would use the roads.
Multiple messengers had been sent to the east coast, toward Antsan, some on horseback, two soulbound to captured warbirds—the feathered animals’ only loyalty was to whoever fed them, apparently.
If our ally’s armies and vessels were as prepared as Arquan had claimed, then we would be able to fall on Rove before Nicosia could get reinforcements there.
The marching was hard, but I found myself appreciating it. Physical exertion felt better than being stagnant.
Brien had been sent with the fourth company, with General Cuplend. Dan, however, was the first company’s mindreader. On the third day, when we could talk and travel a bit more freely, I sought him out and walked beside him.
“I would ask you not to do anything so reckless again in the future,” I said by way of hello. I had not spoken to Dan since he reported his gleaned information to Renn. Renn who, while appearing to lead the company with ease, still fought against the crush of the bloody assault.
Dan scoffed. “It’s war, Nym. Recklessness is assumed.”
“Is assumed?” I repeated. Laughed. “Gods, you sound like Father.”
He glanced over at me, brown eyes searching. “Do I really?”
I nodded. Stepped away from him to let a sapling pass between us. We’d exited the woodlands, but copses of trees littered the entire expanse ahead of us. I thought I spied a few pale trunks—aspens. I did love the beauty of an aspen forest.
“He had a matter-of-fact, passive way of talking when he jested.”
We walked a few paces in silence. “I think I remember that.” Dan had only been seven when our father passed away, in the same incident that had taken our mother’s and Ursa’s lives and nearly my own.
“But,” I retorted, “I think you’re misled. War is a time for careful planning and strategy. The chances of failure are too high otherwise.”
“Perhaps,” he countered.
I rolled my eyes. “Perhaps you should admit I am right.”
“You always think you’re right.”
“Because I always am.”
He shoved me lightly, only enough for one step to falter. “I’m a soldier now, Nym. Best you treat me like one.”
“You’re still a boy.”
“Hardly.”
“Barely.” I pulled at the hems of my sleeves. “I will accept ‘barely.’”
Commander Stonelay rode by on his mount, checking over the marching company before trotting ahead. I imagined Renn would use the high sun to scout on wing, but perhaps we were still too close to Derren Castle for it to be safe. Through the link, he seemed . . . focused. Determined. Hopeful.
“I see you made your choice,” my brother said softly.
“Hm?”
He adjusted the pack on his back so it rode a little higher. “With His Majesty.”
My cheeks warmed. “It isn’t what it seems—”
“I don’t care, Nym.” He reached for my hand, and before I could remember his craft, I took it. He held it for only a few seconds before releasing me. He frowned.
I focused my eyes straight ahead. “I’m not sure what you can see, Dan, but—”
“I see that you’re happy, with him,” he answered. “Don’t worry, I didn’t dig.”
“Thank you.” I kneaded my hands together. Stepped over a tree root. “Brien was not pleased with me.”
“With the king?”
“With me and the king.”
Dan snorted. “He’s one to talk.”
The remark pricked my curiosity. “What do you mean?”
He side-eyed me in a very serpentine manner. “I am a man of many secrets.”
“Barely,” I emphasized. “As your eldest sister, I demand recompense for such a remark.”
Dan merely shrugged. But after another few paces, he added, “Watch his face the next time he’s around the princess.”
We took a country road that traced the edge of a beautiful aspen forest and came upon a sizable village, about twice the size of Fount, on the seventh day of our march.
It was a sight to behold after a week of endless walking and camping on hard ground.
Commander Stonelay and a handful of soldiers rode ahead; by order of the king, accommodations would be made for the soldiers.
The village, called Trest, lay about forty miles north of the Canseren Sea and roughly a hundred miles from Rove.
Had the entire Derren army come, the houses would not have been enough to host us.
But in this company, everyone managed to find space, even if it was in a barn.