CHAPTER TWO
We had two nights of peace before the army arrived.
Two nights to send villagers into the mountains for safety, to bury our stores, to move sheep off to higher pastures.
My mother had urged me into the foothills with the others, but if the army thought a king’s daughter would be a valuable prize, they might hurt others to find me. I wouldn’t allow that.
It started with rumbling, with the shaking of ground that the skeptical villagers decided was just shifting of the ice river or Broken Sea that lay beyond it. But there could be no denying once the soldiers appeared.
They arrayed themselves in a semicircle that traced the wall’s arc and waited there, giving us time to take in their numbers, their power. And then the message arrived – a square of fine folded paper that read, in scratchy handwriting:
We are come to unite the Four Kingdoms.
Submit or face the consequences.
There was no signature.
We stood in the Great Hall, my father, mother, and I. It was a long room of golden wood with a wide stone hearth, roaring fire, and benches for the villagers to hear my father’s proclamations or share his icewine.
My father crumpled the message, strode to the hearth, and tossed it in. Flames licked it into ash in an instant.
“Icy and inviolate,” he said, then turned back to us, the silver in his dark curls glittering in the firelight. I’d inherited the silver, but not the curls, and kept my hair chopped at the chin to better hide my pale hair in caps and cloaks.
“That’s what the Edgelands are called in the other kingdoms,” he continued. “Icy and inviolate. Beneath the notice of the other kingdoms. Their haughtiness kept us safe from everything but weather and reivers.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’m going to keep the community alive to see another solstice,” he said. “I just have to figure out how.”
He told them no, and the bombardment began immediately.
The world trembled beneath our feet. Once, then twice, then once again, stronger than any quake I’d felt from the ice river.
Even the Great Hall shuddered in protest, logs in the fire shifting and sparking in the grate.
Our archers fired volley after volley of arrows, but the soldiers were well armored, and their rams had wide iron shields to protect the vanguard.
My father’s counselors joined us in the Great Hall.
Some demanded immediate surrender, others that we fight to the death.
Edgelanders could be tricksy; we knew the woods and foothills, and might have been able to stir trouble in their camps.
But even if that eliminated a portion of their fighting force, it wouldn’t be enough to best them.
Still others chose denial. “They won’t be able to breach the wall,” my mother said quietly. “Ten solid feet of packed earth.”
There were shadowed hollows beneath my father’s eyes. “Walls are breakable, just like everything else.”
And so they were. By midday, there were half a dozen gaps in the wall. The Golden King hadn’t yet moved into the village, but there was little doubt he could. Or would.
A messenger ran into the Great Hall bearing another square of paper, offered it to my father. We waited to see what future might spring from its folds.
My father read it, closed his eyes, rubbed his beard. And when he opened them again, there was grim reservation on his face. “Invite him in.”
* * *
The Great Hall wasn’t full with so many in hiding, but there were still enough bodies to thicken the air with heat and tension.
Those gathered split apart as a man entered, a brace of soldiers behind him.
Their leader was tall and broad-shouldered, with golden hair and honeyed eyes.
And he’d dressed the part of warlord now in an ensemble of black and gold armor and a cloak the color of good wine.
“Well, well,” Graene murmured beside me. “Your aim was better than we thought.”
The man I’d shot in the woods hadn’t just been a soldier – but the Golden King himself.
While Trevellyan was arrogant because his parents had been wealthy, this man looked fully capable of changing the world to fit his desires. Why did that send a shiver down my spine?
His eyes were hard as he searched the room, probably for me. Graene and I moved backward into shadows, pulling our cloaks a bit tighter.
He approached my father on his wooden throne with its carving of the Two Sisters, the jagged peaks rising as if in warning. His gait was uneven; he favored his right leg, and little wonder since there’d been an arrow in the other one.
He paused a few strides away and waited in silence, giving everyone a chance to look at him and his companions.
My father broke the silence. “I am Cyrus Advaen. King of the Edgelands. You are the one they call the Golden King?”
“Your Highness,” the man said with a nod. “My name is Darien Careth Pennraeden, lately the protector of Andras and Cennish.”
“So Andras and Cennish have fallen,” my father said quietly, two of the other Four Kingdoms. “Is that truly ‘protection’?”
“Andras and Cennish were run by autocrats who used violence to control their populations. They warred against their citizens every day. I brought those wars to an end.”
“War is an unusual way to obtain peace.”
“It isn’t ideal. But when kings aim only to enrich their coffers, it is necessary.”
“You’ll know by now we are a small and peaceful nation, that don’t use violence against our citizens. What do you want of us?”
“You may not use violence,” Darien said, “but you are hounded by reivers from Intarha. You’re isolated when the snows come.
You’ve seen more famine in recent generations than any other nation in the Four Kingdoms. While Orlash hasn’t noticed you yet, its queen has begun to reach beyond her country’s borders, and her fingers are greedy. ”
“You’ve studied.”
“I did not begin this journey without a plan, and good ale loosens tongues. I will help you build a reliable road to the south, so you won’t go hungry when the winters are bad.
I will give you a stronghold. A fortified city on the plain, with towers high enough that you can look far across the Broken Sea.
Drums to warn citizens when threats are near.
Gatehouse doors can be closed so you have time to shelter the weak and gather the strong.
The reivers won’t surprise you anymore.”
My father’s gaze flicked to Darien’s leg. “It appears you were surprised.”
Darien’s expression didn’t change. “An incident in the woods.” He glanced around the room, taking in my mother, the servants, the counselors.
And then his gaze settled firmly upon me.
The shadows weren’t enough to hide me from that searing stare.
And most alarmingly, it wasn’t fear but anticipation that tripped along my skin. This man was my enemy.
“With my protection,” he said, looking toward my father again, “you won’t have to send your daughter to hunt for them.”
“My daughter, like all other daughters and sons in the Edgelands, has done her part to protect the nation.”
“And that will no longer be necessary. I’ll leave a battalion here to protect you from reivers until my war is won. And when the world is united, the Edgelands will become the Northern Gate of our empire.”
My father crossed one leg over the other, linked his fingers. “I don’t believe you have the resources for that.”
“Not yet,” Darien said. “But soon. When our united nation can trade without fear.”
“And you want what, precisely, in exchange for this bounty?”
“Your agreement, as one of the Four Kingdoms, to join me. My army becomes your army, and we stand together against Orlash and the other nations that surround us.”
“And if we don’t?”
“You will stand alone.”
My father turned the golden ring on his right thumb, a signet that bore the Edgelands’ seal. I wondered if he was thinking about those who’d held the seal before him, and what they might do in the same circumstances.
The silence was heavy as he pondered our future, and I didn’t envy the weight on his shoulders.
“You hold to the promises you’ve made, and when you do so, we will join your kingdom and offer fealty to you.”
There was a change in Darien’s posture now. His shoulders relaxed, as if no longer facing an enemy, but a colleague. And there was no disdain in his eyes. If I was reading him correctly, he did not pity my father’s submission, but respected it.
He nodded. “I will hold to my promises. You are now under my protection, and will continue to stand as regent on my behalf.”
“Then it’s done,” my father said, his words heavy as stone.
“My army will need rest before resuming its journey,” Darien said. “Two days, perhaps three. Then I will leave you, but the promised battalion will stay. When the last kingdom is ready to join us, the work will begin.”
At my father’s nod, Darien gave me a final glance, then strode from the room, soldiers following behind. And that was the surrender of our small, quiet nation.
* * *
There were shouts, objections, accusations. But silence fell when my father lifted his hand.
“Be angry with me if you will. But I cannot as your king – and will not as a man of conscience – allow him to destroy the Edgelands. You all know we cannot win against his army.”
“He’s a warmonger,” someone shouted. “He’ll kill us the moment the archers step down.”
“Bannock, you old fool,” my father said, not unkindly.
“The wall is breached, and they vastly outnumber us. He could have moved into our city and burned it to the ground while we watched. He has allowed us to live. If we are to continue surviving, acceptance is our only option.” His eyes hardened.
“And if he does not keep his word – if he does not bring the peace and prosperity he has promised – we will reap our own revenge.”
There were more shouts, and this time my father’s fist slammed the arm of his chair.
“Enough,” he said, and obedience had silence falling again.
“Go home, all of you. Check on your children, bring your loved ones back from the hills and be satisfied that you are alive yet to see them. Tonight, you can drink yourselves into Oblivion at my table. And we will see what our future holds.”
He stood silently now, waiting for the Great Hall to empty. My mother went to him, slipped her hand into his, and murmured something that made him nod and exhale.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. My nation had become part of someone else’s land. My father had trans formed from king to regent. I was no longer a princess, but… what?
“I want some air,” I said. Graene and I left the hall with its perennial haze of smoke. The villagers still milled about outside, and none of them looked happy.
Trevellyan pushed through them to me. “Your father—”
I held up a hand. “If you have something to say to him, then say it to him. Not me.”
“Your father should have sent you away from all this. Away and out of danger.”
“You think I’m a coward?”
He stepped closer. “You’re a princess who should be sheltered and protected.”
“I’m no longer a princess,” I reminded him, and found it didn’t feel so bad to say that. “And I have no need to be sheltered or protected by you.”
“You are confused by the loss of your title. He should pay for that alone.” He made a stiff bow, and strode past the crumbling wall.
“He cannot seriously think you’d agree to marry him,” Graene said.
“I think he doesn’t care whether I’d agree.” I sighed. “Let’s find some icewine.”
“Yes, please.”
I turned, found Darien near the open gate, discussing something with his soldiers. But his gaze was on me, and he inclined his head.
“Enemies in all corners?” Graene wondered.
I honestly didn’t know.
* * *
We sat atop one of the remaining sections of the wall watching the Golden King’s army assemble canvas tents for their stay in the Edgelands, a jar of icewine between us.
“At least I never have to call you ‘Your Highness’ again,” Graene said.
I snorted. “You never called me ‘Your Highness’ in the first place.”
“Oversight,” she said, taking a drink before handing me the jug. “Maybe your father will let you join the army now.”
“Doubtful,” I said. “I’m still his only daughter. Do you think everything will change?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there will be fewer reiver attacks. Maybe more trade with Intarha. Maybe no famine. Depends on whether he makes good on his promises. Seems earnest enough.”
“Easy to be earnest when he has an army.” I took a drink, squeezed my eyes shut. “By all the gods, Graene, this is awful.”
“Cheapest icewine I could find. Shitty, but it passes the time.”
“Because one drink knocks you on your arse.”
She snorted too, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then went still. I followed her gaze down to the tents – and the tall man who was creeping toward them.
“That looks like trouble.”
“Yeah, it does,” I said. Nothing good would come from Trevellyan sneaking around the army’s camp. “Let’s go.”