Red shrugged, again without looking at him. “Well enough.” She moved around the table, away from him. “We’ve cut the supply lines to Edenrich, and while Swift’s Port is not aiding us, they are not sending aid to the Regent, either. He’s made a few forays against us, and was lucky once, but we got our people out with reinforcements. He’s working up his courage to confront us. It won’t be long now.”
“Red, I—” Josiah started.
Red cut him off. “Evelyn was taken.”
“What?” Josiah asked. “Who?”
“Elanore’s forces,” Red replied. “She’s safe. Bethral parlayed with Blackhart for her release.”
“Why did he offer a parley?” Josiah demanded.
Red looked at him finally, her eyes steady. “He learned that Elanore was dead. Apparently the Odium in the Keep are under someone else’s control. He released Evelyn unharmed and surrendered himself so that we would let his people flee the Keep and the countryside unmolested.”
Josiah drew in a long breath.
“I’ll send for food,” Red said. “And a messenger to Evelyn. You will want to talk—”
Josiah stood. “I don’t want to talk to her, I want to talk to you.”
Red gestured at the map. “I’m really very busy, you know. The prophecy and all.”
Josiah snorted, and moved around the table. “As if you believe—”
“The western scouts, Chosen.” A voice came from outside the tent.
“Enter,” Red called before Josiah could protest.
The tent flooded with men just off their horses and brimming with news. They started to move maps, eager to report. Red leaned over the table, intent on every word.
Josiah growled under his breath, and got some kavage. Food could wait. He wanted to talk, and talk they would, if he had to wait all night.
TWELVE, she wanted him.
All he had to do was walk in the tent, and her hunger was there. It had been nine long nights since she’d seen him last, and she’d ached for him each and every night.
He looked tired, but well enough otherwise. The scouts had spotted them earlier, so she’d known when he would arrive. She thought she’d been prepared, but it was harder than she’d ever imagined.
Red listened as the scouts spoke and gestured at the maps. She noted the information, but her mind wasn’t really on it.
She had to distance herself from him, and it had to start now.
She’d thought about keeping him in her bed until the final battle. But that was unfair and unwise. He was a distraction. A pleasant one, to be sure, but dangerous all the same. She needed to be focused on her plans, and not on him. It hurt, a physical pain deep in her chest, but she set that aside.
The scouts were finishing, and she was nodding and making the right responses. But Josiah was still there in the background, a mug of kavage in his hand and a look of determination on his face.
But she was just as determined. Best to cut right to the heart of it and make it quick. Josiah of Athelbryght had his own destiny to fulfill.
As she had hers.
JOSIAH waited patiently. Red gave him a glance as the last scout left the tent. She arched her eyebrow as she spoke. “We’ve a staging area a distance away, where Gloriana and Vembar stay as safe as I can make them.” Red pushed her hair behind her ear, still looking at the map. “I’ve had a tent prepared for you there. Evelyn will wish to see you as soon as possible. I’ll summon an escort—”
“Red,” Josiah said, and she stopped talking, darting a glance at him. When he realized that she wasn’t going to speak, he moved closer. Red gave him a cool glance. “And where will you sleep, Chosen?” he asked.
“Here, of course. I must stay close, in order to—”
“You’re afraid,” Josiah said softly.
THIRTY-FOUR
RED stilled.
“You can expose your breasts to anyone without hesitation,” Josiah continued, “but you can’t expose your emotions, can you? Any more than you can show your hands.”
Red glared at him, but he raised a hand to stop her. “You were right to kill Elanore. I see that now. I’m sorry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, kit—”
“The bitch was defiant, spewing hate and threats. Her death was quick, which was more mercy than she deserved,” Red growled. “The Twelve teach that we build our own hells in the afterlife. May she burn long and hot in the fire of her own making.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Josiah said. “Red, I—”
Red shook her hair back then, her lips pressed tight, her hand on her sword hilt. “Our agreement is at an end, Lord Josiah. A larger profit awaits me now.”
Josiah stood, and started around the table, staring into Red’s eyes. “You’re afraid that I—”
The tent flap lifted, and Ezren stepped in. Josiah stopped, not recognizing the stranger with the new growth of auburn hair over his pate. But then those green eyes flashed a welcome. “Josiah,” Ezren said with a smile. “I heard you had arrived. How good to—” The storyteller paused, looking at the two of them with concern. “I have interrupted. I beg you pardon.”
“No need.” Red picked up her helmet from the table. “I’ve work to do. Please see that Lord Josiah is escorted to Gloriana’s tent.”
“This isn’t over, Red Gloves,” Josiah warned.
She looked at him then, and he saw the determination in her eyes. “I’ve a war to win, Athelbryght. We will have time to discuss this later.” She turned and left without another word.
TWO dusty days later, Red sat on Beast and cursed the whole business. The Regent wasn’t stupid, nor were his men. She looked down into the valley before the city walls, and surveyed the placement of their forces. The Regent’s army had emerged from behind the city walls at first light, and Red had formed up accordingly. But he’d more men behind those walls, and fresher cavalry. Red wasn’t at all certain of the outcome, but the odds were not in favor of the Chosen.
Horns blew as instructions were relayed and the formations changed as a result. It would have to do, at this point. Finally, they’d have this out, here and now.
She secured her helmet and checked her weapons, for she had no intention of sitting this one out.
One comfort: Josiah was well back, safe as he could be made. The warriors with him had orders to flee at the first sign of defeat. She’d have started Josiah off to Athelbryght before this, but the man flatly refused to go. All he wanted to do was talk.
Red smiled grimly as she adjusted her scabbard. There’d be no talk with the goatherder. She’d managed to avoid him so far. If all went according to plan, she’d be free of that soon enough.
Bethral sat beside her, carrying the red and white banner of the Chosen. They’d exchanged a few words about what her sword-sister had done, with Red raging and Bethral as calm as you please. In the end, Red couldn’t argue with the results.
The breeze snapped the cloth of the banner back and forth above their heads. Bessie snorted in anticipation, and Beast was just as eager. A fair day for a battle, win or lose. Red focused back on the battlefield.
Evelyn sat on the other side, clad in brown leather armor that she’d produced in the last few days. Red could have sworn that it was older, showing signs of wear. The Priestess seemed at least to know how to put it on.
Evelyn had demanded a place at her side. “If you go down, I can do something about it. I’ve done it before.”
Red had given up arguing with her. On her own head be it.
Gloriana was well to the rear, with her own set of guards. Ezren and Vembar were with her. If Red fell, she’d be summoned to take command.
It was done. The work, the worry, the toil of the last few weeks came down to this. A fierce gladness filled Red. She welcomed this battle, no matter the end. It was time to take her place in the front lines.
Movement caught her eye, and she looked sharply to the south, where a force had appeared. By the Twelve…those weren’t her men. Had the Regent—?
>
“Riders,” Bethral noted, and Red turned in the saddle to see a group of warriors riding toward them, carrying no obvious banner but wearing the coat of arms of a black eagle, its wings wide, carrying a large cabbage rose.
The riders pulled up next to them. The lead warrior pulled off his helm, and gave them all a grim look.
Red raised an eyebrow. “What brings Tassinic to the field, Lord Verice?”
Verice gave her a sardonic look. “My Warna is delivered of two healthy babes. I have a fine son and a lovely daughter.” He caught Evelyn’s look. “They are all well, Lady High Priestess.”
Evelyn smiled. “That’s good news.”
“And,” Verice continued, “the children both bear the mark of the Chosen.”
Bethral and Evelyn’s mouths dropped open. Red threw back her head and laughed.
Verice raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth was raised slightly. “The Regent now threatens me and mine, Chosen. My forces are yours; our swords, at your command. Is there room for us in your plans?”
Red smiled with fierce delight. “Oh, yes. And the plans have just changed!”
JOSIAH sat on his horse at the farthest point of the valley, straining to see what was happening.
The Regent had placed his forces carefully before his gates, and Josiah had been told that there were more warriors within the city. Red’s attempt to break through was a desperate gamble to avoid a lengthy siege, but one that all had agreed to.
Now the armies faced one another, and even from this distance Josiah could hear the roar as thousands of men screamed their defiance, each taunting the other with insults and threats.
Horns echoed faintly, and Josiah’s heart leaped to see the banner of the Chosen leap out and charge the enemy. The line of warriors behind her followed, streaming across the ground, moving together. Red’s banner marked her location to friend and foe, Bethral by her side. Evelyn, too. He swallowed hard, and watched as the two armies clashed, the banner engulfed in the struggle.
The sounds of the fight were faint, and Josiah strained to hear. But it was his eyes that captured the story. Within a few breaths the Regent’s army surged forward, overrunning their opponents.
“No,” Josiah could barely believe how fast it happened. One minute the army of the Chosen was advancing; the next, they were fleeing the field. The red and white banner was gone, and….
“It’s a rout,” one of his guards said. “We’d best go now.”
“No,” Josiah said, but then the gates of the city opened, and more men began to stream out on horseback, giving chase. “Lord of Light,” Josiah prayed. He couldn’t make out Red’s banner anywhere. But he saw the banner of the Regent emerge, meaning that Iitrus had finally left the shelter of his walls to take the field and hunt down his enemy.
“Now, Lord Josiah.” The warrior closest placed a hand on the bridle of his horse. “We must leave now—”
Red’s army continued to run as the line of warriors streaming from the city gate trickled. Josiah couldn’t turn his eyes from the defeat, couldn’t look away.
Kitten…
Horns sounded. All heads swiveled to look to the south. Warriors were sweeping out of the woods, horsemen with lances and the banners of—
“Tassinic,” Josiah breathed softly. What had brought Verice to Red’s side?
“They’ve flanked them,” someone pointed out.
Josiah watched as the line of elven horsemen smashed into the flank of the Regent’s army like a wave. Suddenly, the routed men turned back and attacked.
“Gods, she is a cagey bitch,” one of the warriors said. “It was a feint.”
Planned? She’d planned that?
As if from nowhere, the banner of the Chosen flared out once again, and headed for the Regent’s.
The Regent’s warriors seemed confused, and they milled about for a moment before turning to make a run for the gates. But it was far too late for that. Red had arrived, and Josiah could almost hear her battle cry from where he stood.
Within seconds, the Regent’s banner fell to the ground. Josiah’s heart swelled with a sense of joy and peace. He didn’t have to see it to know that the Regent was dead on Red’s blade.
The warrior next to Josiah grunted in satisfaction. “All over but the shouting, now.”
“Can we go—” Josiah gathered his reins, but everyone around him shook their heads.
“It may be all over,” the warrior said grimly. “But the shouting takes a while.”
THEY’D won, but not without death, not without loss. Josiah looked out over the field of battle and saw more than the dead and dying. He saw his Athelbryght burned, his people dead and taken. Even as the army cheered around him, he knew well the cost.
Word had spread that the Regent Iitrus had taken the field toward the end, and in the swirl of the battle, he’d been killed. Josiah had no doubt the man was dead at Red’s hand.
Gloriana rode beside him, with their escort. He could see her swallowing hard as she looked around.
The command tent was empty, to Josiah’s surprise. Gloriana saw his face as they entered. “Red told me that after the battle is when the leader must truly lead. ‘Easy to get people to follow you into combat. Hard to get exhausted, wounded people to see to each other and clear the dead.’” Gloriana’s voice hitched. “That’s what she said.”
Josiah looked at her strained face, and opened his arms.
Gloriana ran over, sobbing. “So many, Unca ’Siah. I thought it would be glorious, but it’s awful.”
“I know, child.” Josiah hugged her close, and let his own tears flow there, in the privacy of the tent.
“THAT’S the worst of it,” Red said.
Night had fallen, and the campfires were being lit. She’d worked her way around the camp, seeing to the survivors, letting them cheer the Chosen, gleaming in her armor and helm. She had taken the surrender of Edenrich and the Regent’s army. Criers had been sent into the city, announcing to all and sundry that she’d enter the city on the morrow, to claim the throne.
She looked across the valley, at the command tent. It glowed in the night, with people coming and going. Josiah would be there, with Gloriana and the others. She could almost feel him. She’d summoned the leaders to the tent for an evening meal and council.
Red rolled her shoulders, trying to relax. She’d more to do this night, before she could sleep. A promise to keep, a few announcements to make. Red grinned at the thought. Aye, just a bit more work to do. She patted Beast on the neck, just as three horses came up, bearing Evelyn, Ezren, and Bethral.
THIRTY-FIVE
EVELYN drooped over her horse, tired but exhilarated. It seemed this day would never end, and yet there was so much still to do before the morrow, when all her hard work and efforts would see Red Gloves take the throne of Palins.
When Bethral and Ezren had appeared to fetch her, she’d assumed they’d head toward the command tent. But instead they’d ridden to the top of the rise, to the small shrine. Red stood there, with five warriors.
Bethral and Ezren dismounted, and handed their reins to a warrior standing close. Red handed them both black cloaks. “Come.”
“Where are we going?” Evelyn dismounted as well, taking a cloak and following them into the shrine. “Shouldn’t we be—”
“There’s something we need to see to, first,” Red told her. “There is a shrine to the Lady of Laughter in the White Tower, yes?”
Evelyn stilled, her eyes wide. “Yes, but—”
“Just outside the Regent’s chambers,” Red said. “I want you to open a portal to that shrine.”
“I haven’t dared,” Evelyn said quietly. “I’m sure it’s guarded, and—”
“We will deal with any guards,” Red said. “Open the portal.”
Evelyn frowned, and opened her mouth to argue, but Red glared her down. So she drew a deep breath and concentrated, casting the portal spell. It had been years since she’d been in that shrine, but it was a lovely one, fil
led with paintings of the Lady, laughing and joyous.
Evelyn opened her eyes as the light flared and then the curtains appeared, moving in a breeze only they seemed to feel. Red gave the portal a grim look, took up a small metal lantern, and stepped through.
Ezren followed, and Bethral gestured for Evelyn to go ahead.
The shrine was empty and dusty, as if long unused. Probably for about five years, to Evelyn’s way of thinking. The font in the center was dry, but she could still make out the silver stars painted on the blue ceiling to mimic the evening sky.
Red held the lantern high, and stepped to the door, listening. Bethral followed, and stood silently as the portal closed.
Red turned to Ezren and nodded. He eased the door open and slid into the corridor. Evelyn started when she heard low voices, of Ezren and at least two others. Bethral advanced with her mace, but Red shook her head. They both waited at the door. It was on the tip of Evelyn’s tongue to ask what was going on when Ezren appeared. “Come,” he said quietly.
Red opened the door, and gestured for Evelyn to follow her. Once in the corridor, they walked a few feet to another door. Evelyn recognized the doors to the Old King’s chambers. She frowned. Rumor had it that the Regent had taken these rooms for his own.
Bethral stayed back, watching the corridor. There were guards at the far end, but they seemed to be ignoring their party.
“No need,” Ezren explained. “They know what we are about.”
“It’s sure to be locked,” Evelyn insisted as she focused the lantern on the door.
Red pulled a ring of keys from her cloak and unlocked the door.
“Where did you get those?” Evelyn asked.