Chapter 24
I was not so adventurous as to choose sleeping on the ground over a generously gifted bed, so when dawn cracked and the company mobilized for its ongoing march, I groggily stirred within the Swiftmore home. Not for the light or the noise, but because Renn’s hand traced long ovals on my thigh.
“I hate to wake you,” he whispered, “but I can’t have the men losing time because I vowed to be a lovesick servant.”
I turned to face him. “Lovesick servant?”
“Wen Straymoth. Opal-age poet. And oft my soul settles o’er her grave, for I vowed to be a lovesick servant.”
I stretched, my body protesting its lack of sleep. “Straymoth, of course. How could I forget?”
His glee—and lustier sensations—trickled through the bond.
I was pure contentment; a perfect day would be staying right here from sunup to sundown.
I curled into him, breathing in his scent of honeysuckle and pinewood, mixed with the cool green of a woodland night.
He surrounded me in a circle of warmth. Kissing the underside of his jaw, I slid my thumb just beneath the waistband of his breeches.
He groaned, “Don’t tempt me,” rolled over, and pinned me to the mattress. Kissed me chastely and sighed. “If only.”
I smiled at him. “I request you retake your home swiftly so we might amend our present schedule.”
He chuckled. “As swiftly as I can, I promise.”
Regret limned our link.
Wiggling free from his grip, I cupped his face in my hands. “We have all our lives ahead of us.”
He nodded, a flash of sadness crossing his features. He was completely unmasked. “Gods make it so.”
Propping myself up on my elbows, I kissed him. “I love you, Renn.”
“You are my always, Nym.”
He kissed me one last time and rose, true to his duty. However much I wished to sleep away the morning and practice the art of the marriage bed, I, too, didn’t want to delay the others. I’d reserve that selfishness for another time.
I dug a comb from my bag and tugged it through my curls, further roughing up Lonnie’s careful administrations to them the night before, then tamed the bramble with a tight plait.
Renn distracted me with his mouth when I attempted to get dressed, but duty called, and regretfully he pulled away and went to be the leader the gods had forced him to become.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then slipped outside to the privy.
The bane of being a woman—I could not simply relieve myself in the trees as a number of soldiers were doing that morning.
I started back for the house, still unfamiliar with the weight of the pendant between my breasts. I freed it, tilting the pearl in the growing light, watching it play off its smooth surface. Feeling . . . full. Content. Wanted.
Lonnie came from the house, a small linen satchel in her hands. I slipped the pendant beneath my bodice and smiled at her.
She presented the satchel. “Breakfast for the road. I was hoping we could eat together, but that doesn’t seem a possibility today.”
I accepted the gift. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll send for you, if you’re willing. If we end this war. If we win back Rove and settle there again. I’ll send for you.”
“Please do.” She kissed my cheek. “Take care of yourself, Nym. And take care of His Majesty.”
I cherished the advice and the farewell, and carried them with me to the main road, which wrapped around Trest rather than cut through it.
About two-thirds of the company appeared ready to march, with Commander Stonelay atop a white steed at the front.
Renn’s black was saddled and ready, but he wasn’t there.
My husband’s black.
Pleasant nerves bubbled through my middle as I scanned for him. Not finding him, I searched for my brother—
A hand to the dip of my waist startled me. I glanced back to see Renn.
I noticed his nerves now. “Because we’re closing in on Rove, or because of something else?” I asked.
He sighed as we walked toward the line. “I don’t even know, Nym. I’ve stopped trying to understand it.”
Just before we’d need to part so he could head toward the front of the column, he bent over and kissed my hair, which sent a shock through me, since he’d never done anything of the like in public before, and being king, eyes followed him everywhere.
Even now I saw eyes on us. We were surrounded by his men.
But then he looped his pinky under the collar of my dress and pulled out my wedding pendant, releasing it so it settled right over my heart, in plain sight.
I did not think his nerves were for that. On the contrary, I dare say smug victory trickled through the bond.
The king of Cansere headed toward his mount, but the eyes of dozens of soldiers remained fixed on me. More precisely, fixed on the pearl I wore.
Ignoring the heat growing in my ears, I continued onward, spying Dan near the wagons in the back.
When he saw the necklace, he laughed, and once I took my place beside him, all he commented was “Of course you did.”
The first time someone referred to me as Your Majesty, I turned around, thinking Renn had approached.
He had not.
Exhausted from the march, I shakily informed Renn of this new, unsettling title after we’d erected the tent we’d be staying in that night. The insufferable man merely whispered, “It suits you,” and made love to me as though I were Zia herself.
No one commented on my commonness, at least not where I could hear. I mentioned this in passing to Dan, who pointed out, “We’re all common, Nym. Even Stonelay’s father is a merchant.”
The simple fact settled on me like a light shawl.
The next day’s march was so grueling, without a stop until past nightfall, that we had no energy to set up shelter. Renn fell asleep in my arms under the stars, made all the clearer in our shared darkness, for none in our company lit a fire.
It took thirteen days—breaking into the month of September—to march from Derren Castle to a rendezvous point where we joined companies two and four.
We met in a dense forest of aspens, cottonwoods, and the occasional fir.
Renn sent scouts out immediately, to survey both the surrounding area and ahead to Rove, which lay only a day’s travel away.
My heart tremored at the thought of it. All this time, the thought of recapturing Rove, my second home, seemed only a dream.
A philosophical idea from Renn’s books, forgotten with the turn of a page.
Yet it was very close, and very real. I feared the battle at Derren Castle would be nothing compared to one at the capital city.
How many people still resided within its walls? How many dragons?
Adoel Nicosia surely had sorted out our ruse by now.
I’d taken to worrying my hands after seeing to the blisters and bruises of our company, when General Cuplend approached me.
He crossed a hand over his chest and bowed before addressing me, which I found startling.
I might have corrected him, but he spoke first. “Your Majesty, your presence is requested in council.”
My lips parted. Questions flooded my tongue—were they sure they wanted me present for a war council?
Did they realize my background, my unimportance?
And yet I had lived with these soldiers, fought beside them, marched among them.
I had been behind the walls at Derren, and behind enemy lines.
I had lived in Rove Castle and mingled with the royal family.
I had married the king, the last of the Noblewight sons.
So I swallowed down my protests, my insecurities, and squared my shoulders. “Lead the way.”
We wove between trees, over the bumpy forest floor, to a larger tent erected so tightly between firs the trunks pushed in on its sides, making it an oblong shape.
Renn, Commander Stonelay, Commander Hawksend, and a woman I didn’t recognize stood inside. No chairs or rugs, only a barrel used as a table, a map pinned to its top. Only Renn glanced over at my entrance, and while his face remained neutral, warmth floated up our link.
The woman, who looked to be about forty years of age, dressed as a middle-class shop owner, was saying, “—more than that.”
Commander Hawksend frowned. “But there’s no whispers of our approach? Nothing from Derren?”
She shook her head. “None that I’ve heard.
” She raised her hands, revealing leather gloves that trailed under her long sleeves.
She likewise gestured to her high collar.
“I’ve stayed covered at all times, in case a mindreader decides to get curious.
I haven’t been questioned—completely overlooked, really.
I’m good at blending in—that’s why His Highness utilized me.
” It took me a beat to realize she referred to Prince Adrinn; Renn’s officers must have been successful in accessing what was left of his network.
“I wasn’t followed here, either.” She noticed me then, her eyes dropping to my collar, where a sliver of gold chain was exposed.
It wasn’t uncommon for newlyweds to openly sport their wedding pendants, but it felt .
. . unsafe, letting something so valuable, so meaningful, dangle from my neck in what could be enemy-occupied territory.
Even Renn wore his beneath his shirt, and the close collar of his uniform hid the entirety of it.
Yet she knew; weighty rumors traveled fast. “Your Majesty.” She bowed.
“You’re a spy,” I guessed.
She nodded.
“The tunnel?” Commander Hawksend pressed.
“Still clear, from what I saw two days ago,” she answered. “It doesn’t look to be in use.”
“Surely it’s been discovered.” Renn’s gaze drifted to the map, which depicted Rove and its surrounding territories.
“But not in use means not well known,” Commander Stonelay offered. “It might still be viable.”
“But I haven’t shared the most critical thing,” the spy said. “You won’t like it.”
General Cuplend snapped, “Out with it, woman.”
She frowned at him but spoke directly to me. “I’m fairly certain Adoel Nicosia is in residence at Rove Castle.”