Finn leaned forward and questioned the Viceroy, “What is your thought on the matter?”
“The southern route is safe, and there have been no signs of uprising in Colechester or Crantock, but the threat of raiders in the north is a concern. I'd be lying if I didn't say there was a risk continuing your journey.”
“Then we will leave immediately,” Finn informed, slamming his palm on the wooden table as if the matter was closed. “If you don't mind, we will ride with your infantry to the city.”
Lord Eoghaan nodded, but Cara saw the hesitancy in his expression as he glanced at her.
Something didn't feel right, and she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that somehow Birkita was involved in the council calling her back.
The men began to talk and bicker amongst themselves.
“Helfrich,” she said quietly, placing her hand on his arm, so as not to draw the attention of the other men. “What happens if I don't complete the tour?”
His brows drew downwards at her question, and she saw the moment he registered what she was implying.
“According to the laws of Annul, you would still hold the title of heir apparent, but until you complete the tour and the provinces pledge their loyalty, there can be no inauguration and no crown.”
“So the king and council would continue to rule.”
Helfrich nodded.
Cara drew a deep shuddering breath as she realized what she had to do, and knowing the retaliation she would have to deal with from the men. She glanced at Finn briefly and shook her head. “Then it's settled. We have to continue on schedule.”
Helfrich raised his eyebrows. “The council won't be happy if you defy their orders.”
“And what of the orders of Annul?” she said under her breath.
Where had that come from? The words were a shock to her own ears, and yet in her heart she knew they were true.
Helfrich nodded and smiled at her, and she knew she had his support no matter what her decision.
She stood and raised her hand to speak, but the men continued to gossip and argue amongst themselves.
“Silence,” she scolded, her voice echoing throughout the great hall. Startled, the room went quiet and all eyes turned to her. She took a deep breath before continuing. “There is no reason to believe that the uprisings will pass the borders of Lydd. While I admit it is a concern that we don't know where Birkita is hidden, without the backing of the council she poses no threat to us. We will continue the tour and leave as anticipated in four days to Colechester.”
The men exchanged glances.
Finn stood and began to protest, but the look she gave him stopped his words, and he sat back down.
He was afraid for her, she saw it in his eyes, but what kind of queen would she be if she made her decisions based on fear? She had to finish the tour. It was the only way to break the cycle of destruction that Birkita had started.
Lord Eoghaan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “If you will accept, I would add another twenty guardsmen to travel with you.”
Cara nodded in acknowledgment.
There was a scuffling and scraping of chairs as the men stood to take their leave. Cara hung back and approached the Viceroy.
“Lord Eoghaan,” she said, glancing quickly at Cush who remained seated at the large table, head cast downwards. “I know it's a lot to ask, but would it be possible to send one of your men to see how Lord Tomias fares. I know I would feel much better knowing that his family is out of harm's way.”
“Of course, child. I will send a runner immediately. I will have him meet you in Colechester with word.”
“Thank you very much,” she said graciously.
“I knew your grandmother you know. She was beautiful woman. Hair the color of the morning sun, and eyes as green as the hills of Sumner. I was too young to be considered for consortship at the time, but I still held hope that they would choose me. I could have been your grandfather,” he chuckled and gave her a whimsical smile, deep lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “But now my grandson one of the notable Twelve. Funny how the wheel turns. We cannot know where the blessed Annul will lead us, only pray that she will give us the courage to face the fate she has ordained.”
Cara frowned at his words, as her dream came back to her in shocking clarity; the great wheel of destruction and restoration, the many faces of the goddess, and the powerful, all-consuming love that propelled the never ending rotation of life, death, and rebirth.
“Are you all right, dear?” lord Eoghaan asked, placing a weathered hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, just a spell of dizziness,” she lied, taking a steadying breath, and clasping her hands together to hide their trembling.
“Forgive my interruption,” Finn said behind her. “But can I speak with Cara in private?”
Lord Eoghaan nodded and turned to address one of his manservants.
Finn pulled Cara away from the group.
“What is it?” she moaned, knowing all too well what he wanted. She wasn't in the mood to argue, but from the expression on his face it was exactly what he was about to do.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked tersely. “If there is an uprising along our route, the few guardsmen that we have will be futile.”
There was a ragged edge to Finn's voice that she had never heard before, but she couldn't let his anxiety stop her from doing what she knew was right.
“There is just as much danger within the palace walls. Why do you think the council wants me back?” Cara said, her voice rising. “They want to put a chain on me. They don't want me to finish the tour, because then they won't hold the throne. It's a power struggle and I intend to win.”
“It's supposition. Nothing more.”
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples. Her head ached fiercely. When she looked at him again, her gaze was icy, and her words curt. “For once will you support my decision? Every time you question my judgement you make me look weak in front of the other men. It's my choice whether we continue the tour, not yours, but I will give you the same alternative that I gave Edmund. If you don't like the way I lead, you can leave at any time.”
Finn's eyes hardened, but he made no retort, and her heart ached as he turned to leave.
* * *
They made good speed westward along the Stour River and into the province of Colechester. Avoiding the larger towns and the luxury and comfort of inns, they made camp along the river, keeping scouts on watch at all hours.
It was a somber journey, and all along the road, Cara sat in her carriage and thought about Lord Tomias and his family. She ran her fingers over the red and white twine of the bracelet Cush's little brother Loc had made for her, and she prayed to Annul that his family were safe.
The caravan stopped, and Cara opened the door to her carriage.
Finn approached atop his steed, and when he spoke his voice was restrained, and his expression grave. “If we continue at this pace, Wesley believes we will reach the capital of Colechester by tomorrow evening.”
He had distanced himself both physically and emotionally, and the lack of emotion behind his blue eyes hurt her more than his anger.
“Then we should continue on,” she replied just as briskly, and turned back to her carriage.
“Cara,” Finn said, stopping her.
He looked down at his hands that rested on the pommel of his saddle, and when he looked up again his eyes were filled with regret.
Despite the animosity between them, her heartbeat quickened at the sound of her name on his lips. She didn't know what to do with her emotions. It had been weeks since he had shared her bed. Efy had come to her a handful of times since Samwain, and while she found pleasure in his touch, her body and heart yearned for Finn.
She knew it was pride that stopped her from requesting his presence. Even now she saw in his face that it would only take a simple request, and he would come to her.
“The men would like to know if they are to make
camp or continue on.” Helfrich said, approaching them on horseback. Unlike Finn, he always seemed ill at ease on the beast.
She smiled up at him and then glanced back at Finn.
“Let's stop for tonight,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Finn.
Helfrich nodded, looked at Finn knowingly, and turned to ride to the front of the caravan to inform the men to make camp.
“Will you come to me tonight?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, and she saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards.
When he entered her carriage later that evening, he spoke no words of reproach, but came to her willingly. His eyes never left hers, and when he entered her, and she had to blink back tears at the love she saw in his eyes.
“Blessed Annul have mercy on me,” he whispered as she pressed her mouth against the hollow of his neck, running her tongue along his salty skin.
Cara laughed softly.
Moonlight filtered through the carriage window, and she could see her own desire mirrored in his blue eyes.
She ran her hands over his hard chest, and grasped his tightly coiled shoulders, feelings his muscles work beneath the skin as he drove into her with a need that matched her own.
His kiss was hungry, desperate, and in that moment she didn't fight him. She let him consume her wholly. Her entire body bowed and then spasmed, as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her.
He stiffened above her and spent himself inside her womb, and she took as much joy in his release as she had her own. She had missed him. His touch. The weight of his body on hers. His deep heavy breath against the nape of her neck. Whether it was the first stirrings of love or merely lust, she didn't know. But she knew that her heart ached in her chest when they were apart.
She lay content beneath him.
“I've missed you,” she whispered.
He pulled back and steadied himself on one arm. Cara moaned in disappointment as he slipped from her body.
He put his hand to her cheek as he had done so many times before. Tracing the outline of her mouth with the pad of his thumb, he met her gaze. His eyes searched hers, and the corner of his mouth drew down in a frown, but before he had the chance to speak, the sound of yelling outside the carriage broke through their silence.
“Stay here,” he ordered, standing and dressing quickly. His sword was unsheathed before he opened the carriage door.
Moments later she heard the clash of steel against steel, and shouting echoed on every side. An ear piercing cry of pain sent a trickle of cold sweat down her back. They were being attacked.
Finn had been right to warn them against continuing onwards. She had brought them into this danger, and now her men were fighting for their lives.
She didn't know how long she sat there and listened to the horrific sounds of fighting and death that surrounded her, but when Finn finally returned she realized that she hadn't moved a muscle since he had left.
Her gaze went directly to heavy red stain on the sleeve of his white tunic.
“You're hurt,” she exclaimed, still unable to move.
“It's just a scratch.”
She couldn't breathe. “The others?”
“Only minor injuries among our people. The raiders made off much worse,” he said unevenly, as he rolled his neck to dispel the tension in his muscles.
No longer able to hold back her tears, she choked, “This is all my fault. I should have listened to you.”
He knelt beside her, eyes compassionate as he stroked her hair. “They were only horse thieves, merely a handful of them, and barely armed.” He shrugged, and pulled his ruined shirt off, baring his chest. “We were bound to meet some vagabonds on the road.”
She grasped his hands in her own. “You could have been killed.”
His fingers closed over hers, and he spoke gently, “There's a risk in everything we do. Did you not say yourself that there is as much risk behind the palace walls?”
Cara gaped at him as if he had sprouted two heads.
His face softened in resignation, and he gave an audible sigh. “Helfrich explained to me what you wager if you go back to the palace before the tour is over. I agree that if we are going to make any changes in Elbia, then the crown needs to be secured as quickly as possible. Is it not our duty as your Twelve to see you safely on the throne?”
She opened her mouth to retort, until she realized she would only be arguing against her own reasoning.
Tending to his wound, she bandaged his arm with clean linen, and then dressed and went to her other men. Finn had spoken truthfully; there were no serious injuries, but even so Cara tended to each of the men herself.
As she made her way through camp, apprehension swept over her. For a long moment she stood and watched the men tend to their tasks, and her heart wrenched at the choices she would have to make in the coming years.
Tonight had made her realize how very real the danger was, and while they had come through this attack unscathed, they may not always be as lucky.
Chapter 20
Batch sat alone in the chambers he had been assigned by Lord Wilbur of Colechester. His hands shook as he waited for the inevitable. From the way he had cowered in the shadows when the raiders had attacked, and the look of disgust on Arwel's face when it was over, he knew his punishment would be brutal.
He let out a shaky breath and glanced nervously at the door. His body still carried the bruises from his last attack. Since his father had refused to pay for the moon celebration, Arwel had grown more vicious in his assaults, and the last one had been the worst.
Arwel had warned him not to speak a word of what he did to him, but really, who would he tell? He was too humiliated to speak of what had been done. What would Cara or the other men think of him if they ever found out? Shame shredded his soul as he thought of the horrific things Arwel had done and forced him to do.
No, he wouldn't say a word.
He had done his best to remain obscure, to stay out of everyone's way, but it hadn't been enough. The attacks had started during their time in Lydd, and his only reprieve from the abuse was while they were on the road, travelling between provinces. But even then Arwel had become more daring, boldly touching him while others were near. Batch was certain that Tahdaon had witnessed Arwel's groping the day before they arrived, and yet he said nothing, only walked away, his mouth twisted in disgust, as if Batch had somehow done something to provoke Arwel's mistreatment.
When he had learned that he had been chosen as one of the Twelve, he had been relieved to know longer be subject to his father's harsh tongue and frequent beatings, but nothing he had experienced in Meall had prepared him for Arwel's twisted and demented mind.
Tears filled Batch's eyes as he waited. He didn't even have any wine to numb the pain that he knew was coming. As much as he hoped Arwel wouldn't come, there was also a part of him that wanted to just get it over with. Sometimes the waiting, the anticipation of knowing what was coming, was just as terrible as the abuse itself.
There didn't seem to be enough air in the room, and he had trouble trying to catch his breath, as anxiety pressed down on his chest.
“Ca-calm do-down,” he said under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow on his sleeve, and feeling bile rise in his throat.
Batch cringed as his door flew open and Arwel entered. The door had barely closed before Arwel was on him.
“You disgust me,” Arwel hissed, backhanding him across the face, and then grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. His face was so close that Batch could see the red veins that laced the whites of his eyes. “Filthy coward.”
Arwel's fist slammed upwards and Batch's head snapped back. He tasted blood, but ground his teeth to keep from crying out or showing any emotion.
Arwel curled his lip in disgust and grabbed Batch's jaw in a fierce grip. His breath was hot against his face, and he could smell sharp stench of alcohol on his breath. “You're a pathetic excuse of a man, cowering in the shadows like a little girl.”
His
breath left him, as Arwel slammed him against the wall and punched him in the stomach before turning him around so his face was pressed against the cold stone. Batch bit back a cry of anguish as Arwel pulled his pants down to his knees and shoved himself deep inside of him.
Batch gasped in pain as Arwel grabbed a fistful of hair, pulled his head backwards, and hissed in his ears, “You're lucky I find some satisfaction in this tight ass of yours. Edmund was ready to send a runner to the council to tell them about your father's little transgression. I managed to convince him otherwise. I'll let you thank me on your knees later.”
His breathing ragged, and Arwel continued to thrust hard and deep. When he finished, he shoved Batch to the floor.
“Clean yourself up. You smell like horse shit,” Arwel sneered.
When Arwel had finally gone, Batch exhaled a shaky breath, and tears of frustration and shame welled in his eyes.
What had he ever done to deserve the hell he lived in? No wonder the others all despised him. He was a coward, and now because of Arwel, he was no better than a common whore.
Batch's stomach cramped in misery and revulsion, as he pushed himself off the floor, and crawled onto his bed. Pulling the blanket over his aching body, he curled up in a ball and wept.
* * *
Lord Wilbur, the Viceroy of Colechester, threw a grand feast to herald their arrival. While not one of the more affluent provinces, the Viceroy's estate didn't lack luxury, and he went out of his way to provide lavishly for his guests.
“Have you seen Batch?” Cara asked Helfrich as they entered the banquet hall. “I haven't seen him in days.”
Helfrich shook his head and frowned. “He hasn't left his chambers since we arrived.”
“Is he ill?”
“Is he ever not?” Helfrich asked ungraciously, and then cringed at his own remark.
“He does seem to have a weak constitution, but it isn't something we can grudge him for.”
“No,” Helfrich admitted.
Cara made a mental note to send the physician to check on Batch.
“Princess Cara,” Lord Wilbur exclaimed as he approached. “I would like to introduce my wife, Lady Hadlee, and my eldest sister, Lady Bethany.”