03 - Sworn (9 page)

I’ll get back to it,
I promised myself. Aren and I would find time to work on it, somehow.

Aren’s hand moved over my back, tracing circles on my skin, moving lower. “Don’t start,” I said, my voice muffled by his shoulder.

“We have a lot of time to make up, Miss Greenwood. Belleisle, your time in prison...”

I tilted my head up and placed a kiss where the soft skin of his throat met the hard line of his jaw. “Mister Tiernal, I—”

Footsteps approached outside, crunching over the dead leaves on the ground. I waited for them to pass, but the tent flap flew open, flooding the space with light.

“Knock it off,” Kel said. I gasped and sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. He leaned in and smirked as he sipped something from a steaming tin mug. “Fun time’s over, friends.”

Aren glared at him. “You jealous?”

Kel shrugged. “It’s not my business, but I wouldn’t keep the king waiting if I were you.”

He left, and Aren sighed. “Guess it’s time to go, then.”

I kissed him again. “Told you so.”

We dressed quickly and stepped outside, squinting in the bright sunlight. Nox handed us each a cup. “Drink,” she ordered. “It’ll wake you up. You both look exhausted.”

Nox rarely spoke to me unless it was absolutely necessary. I’d tried to adopt Aren’s confidence, his assurance that his value didn’t depend on being liked, but it didn’t work. It hurt to be disliked, made me feel small. I thanked Nox for the drink, and she nodded. At least she was making an effort. The dark, bitter tea burned my tongue, but I drank it anyway.

Not that I care what she thinks of me, right?

I shouldn’t have. She obviously didn’t care what anyone’s opinion was of her. Nor did Kel and Cassia. Though they were by nature perceptive and frequently tried to accommodate people, they didn’t go out of their way to gain anyone’s approval. They just accepted it.

I shook my head to chase the thoughts away. In less than five months I’d gone from good—if slightly rebellious—Darmish girl, to inept Sorceress, to a powerful one still afraid to use her magic. It was far too early in the morning to decide yet again who I wanted to be.

Aren looked into his cup. “Interesting flavor. What is it?”

“Are you asking because you’re really interested, or are you just making conversation?” Nox asked.

“Both.”

Before she could answer, she caught sight of Ulric striding toward us. “Excuse me,” she said. “I believe I’m needed elsewhere.” She spun on her heel and hurried toward Kel, who was listening as several men and women showed off their makeshift weapons.

Aren drained his cup as though the contents would fortify him.

“Everyone well-rested?” Ulric asked. Demanded, really. Every question that came out of the man was an interrogation, every statement an order.

“Well enough,” Aren said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Ulric echoed. “Rowan, anything to report?”

“No. Patience told me a little more about what happened to her family, but I think we already knew that your sons are among the most horrible people alive.” I nodded toward Aren. “Present company excepted.”

Ulric didn’t seem amused. Didn’t even look at me. “I suppose we won’t learn anything more with you here, will we? Best you get back to it.”

I held out my hand to take Aren’s cup, refusing to be stung again by the dismissal. “I’ll be off to see what’s cooking for breakfast, then.”

“Wait,” Aren said. A boy of about thirteen walked past, and Aren motioned him closer. He took my cup and passed both to the boy. “Take those back to wherever they belong, will you?” The boy nodded and scurried off.

Ulric raised his thick eyebrows. “Aren?”

“Rowan should stay with us so she knows what’s going on. If we need to fight, you’ll want her magic on your side.” Though he spoke calmly and reasonably, I knew it couldn’t be easy for him to stand up to his father.

“She has no experience with these things,” Ulric answered, his voice sharp enough to cut. “She’s not Tyrean.”

Aren’s expression hardened. “She’s had different experiences. She sees things I don’t.”

I felt invisible as the two stood eye to eye, locked in their battle of wills. I wanted to step in, to say that it didn’t matter and I was fine in the kitchen, but Aren was right. If only I could find my voice and say so.

“Very well,” Ulric said, drawing out the words. “Rowan, please come with us.” He gave Aren one last, hard look, and turned away.

Aren let out his breath.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “I can slap boiled oats into bowls if it will help.”

“I appreciate that. The truth is, I didn’t do it to save you from breakfast duty.” He looked at me and tried to smile. He almost succeeded. “I truly do think we need your help, but it’s not only that. I need you near me. My father makes me feel like the person I used to be. That may be helpful, especially if it comes to war, but I need balance. I need a reminder that my life isn’t about trying to gain his approval, that I’m not the old me anymore.”

“Well, thank you either way.” I gave his hand a quick squeeze, then let go. It wouldn’t look right for the king’s son to be seen walking around holding hands with his—what? There didn’t seem to be a word for it. And now that I thought of it, our future might not be—

“You coming?” Aren asked.

“Yeah. Of course. Just thinking.”

We caught up to Ulric, who stood watching the sparring in the square. “Goff said they do this every day,” he said, just loud enough for us to hear. “Volunteers only, but many of them enthusiastic. They have exactly two people in this community with any proper training. There’s a former militia member, and one who apparently used to work for me. So I suppose we would have been recognized even if I hadn’t revealed who we were yesterday.”

Aren nodded, but his lips tightened as though holding back a response. If I had to guess, I’d say he’d just been put in his place.

“Those two train the others when they can,” Ulric continued. “These men and women are not an army, but it seems that Goff has had it in his mind for some time that they should be. In spite of what I said yesterday, I don’t wish to see them go into battle and die.” Aren seemed to relax a little at that. “The appearance of an army might get us past the city gates, though, or at least gain us the support of people outside who might otherwise stay neutral. They could be the rich soil that causes other citizens’ confidence to blossom.”

“They’re shit, if that’s what you mean,” Aren said under his breath.

Ulric ignored that. “We could persuade more to train with them, just in case. We need the defenses, if nothing else. If Severn doesn’t know we’re here yet, he will soon enough, and he will attack.”

“How many might we have?” Aren asked.

“Three hundred people in this community total. Removing children under the age of thirteen from the equation—”

“Thirteen?” Both turned toward me when I spoke. “That seems young.”

“Old enough to pick up a sword,” Ulric said, not sounding pleased about the prospect. “Gods willing, it won’t come to battle, and we’ll keep the more experienced ones at the fore. As I was saying, excluding children and those who care for the younger ones, the elderly who can’t fight, and a few who are lame, injured, or ill, we have a little over a hundred and fifty.”

“I’d have expected Laelana to keep better track of her population than that,” Aren said.

Ulric grunted his agreement. “She’s a decent leader, but I don’t think she was expecting that her people would be called for something like this.”

“So what do we do next?” Aren asked.

“Train those who are available. We’ll have your friends help with that.”

Aren frowned. “They’ll need their own training first. They might help with physical conditioning, though.”

Ulric watched Cassia walk past the other side of the sparring field. “They are in excellent physical condition, aren’t they?”

Aren’s shoulders tensed visibly. I wondered what Ulric knew about Aren and Cassia’s history.

“So you’ll train the troops, such as they are,” I said, just to break the silence and the feeling that maybe I really wasn’t needed. “What then?”

“That’s what we need to figure out.” Ulric kept a close watch on the fighters. One of them swung and thumped the other lightly on the head, and they both laughed. “Find some way to make them take this seriously. Pray to the gods that it doesn’t come to battle.”

“Any magic users among them?” Aren asked. “Besides Jevan.”

“Nothing significant, as far as I know, and little that’s useful. Jevan has some skill with tracking. He leads hunting parties and has been training a few scouts, as well as those he takes when they’re on their supply-gathering missions. That could be quite useful. Otherwise, no. Most of these people are here because Severn took away the Sorcerers and lower-level magic-users who lived in their communities. They heard about this group and came looking for help. Leaves us with very little, other than bodies to make a statement with.”

“Hmm. Not that many of them, though.”

Not since we first met had I had so much trouble reading Aren. He was guarding himself, being the person his father expected him to be. I reminded myself that it was a mask, an act. Still, my throat tightened uncomfortably at the thought of him slipping away, changing back to what he was when we first met.

“What about Albion?” I asked. “If Severn may be a threat to Belleisle, it would be worth their while to assist us.”

Ulric’s lip curled in distaste. “We don’t look to Belleisle for help. Albion has never been involved in anything important. Power, politics, war, none of it. The people of Belleisle will wish to be left alone, believing their defenses are sound, and Ernis Albion is no particular friend of mine. I’m sure Aren has explained that.”

He had. Ulric had married Albion’s daughter against the gentle Sorcerer’s wishes. Ulric sent her away several years after Aren and Nox were born, when her life was in danger. She’d taken Nox with her and left everyone else—Aren included—thinking she was dead.

“Perhaps if you told him you didn’t have his daughter killed after all?” I suggested, and fought the urge to flee from the sharp look Ulric shot me. “Might warm him to you.”

Aren looked at his father. “Yes, sending her to die in a frozen dragon-land was much better.” His words drew out in a derisive drawl that surprised me.

“Watch your tone,” Ulric warned. “I’m still your father and your king, no matter what you think I owe you.”

My heart fluttered in my throat as magic thickened the air. I didn’t think Ulric would hurt Aren, or Aren his father, but I could never stand watching people argue.

Aren held his gaze. “The latter position will be in question if we don’t figure out how to get you back to Luid and prove you’re still alive, and soon. We’re wasting time here.”

Ulric didn’t answer, and neither of them moved.

“Are you magical types beyond eating, now?” We all turned toward Nox, who gestured back over her shoulder. “There’s grain porridge back that way, but you’ll want to get there soon. Lots of hungry people about.”

“Thank you, Nox,” Ulric said. “Have you eaten already?”

“Yes. I’ll be assisting in the infirmary tent if anyone needs me.”

“Nox?” Aren asked. “I need to speak to you later.”

She nodded and walked away, shoulders hunched forward against a strong breeze that blew through the woods, kicking up dust.

“We should eat while there’s still something left,” I said. An approaching group of villagers drowned my voice out, but Aren nodded.

The people fell silent as they came near us—all except the children, who didn’t know to be afraid of our power.

We fell in behind the sparring partners and followed the river of bodies to a black tent. I joined the end of the line at the entrance, but Aren motioned for me to follow him and Ulric to where Laelana stood near a bubbling pot of gruel inside the massive canvas structure, speaking to a hunch-backed old woman. The volume of the voices from the crowd inside kept me from hearing their conversation, but the old woman seemed pleased by whatever her leader said.

Laelana had shed the heavy fur cloak she’d worn to the party the night before, but looked no less imposing in her fitted pants and loose tunic. She’d pulled her mane of hair into a long braid that swung over her shoulder as she turned to us.

“Good morning, my lady,” Ulric said, and offered a tiny bow. “I thank you again for the accommodations.”

“I trust everything was adequate?” she asked. Her gaze drifted to Aren. “We might be able to make you more comfortable, if there was any problem.”

I gritted my teeth and held my tongue.

“Everything was perfect, thank you,” he responded evenly.

The woman’s eyes turned to me, considered something, and then looked back to the Sorcerers, apparently dismissing me in less than a second. I unclenched my teeth and forced my shoulders to relax.

“I’ll see about getting your breakfast,” she said.

To her credit, she returned with three bowls balanced in her hands, and offered one to me.

“My grandfather was a Sorcerer,” she said. “Derk Dimning. Able to communicate with animals, if they were intelligent enough. Had a great deal of skill with plants, too.”

Ulric paused with the spoon half-way to his mouth. “I remember him. I asked him to come to Luid to work for me. He refused. Said he had too many obligations at home. Very impressive skills.”

Laelana lifted her chin. “Indeed. But he had no desire for city life, or to consort with nobility.”

“It’s a shame he’s not here to help us today. Having someone around who could grow a crop of vegetables would be ideal.”

Laelana’s expression hardened. “He refused to join your son’s cause. It didn’t end well for him. For any of us.”

“A great loss to you and to us,” Ulric said, sounding as sympathetic and sincere as I’d ever heard him. But I knew how quickly that could change.

“It certainly is.” She looked me and Aren over again. “This is all the magic you have on your side? Not much to speak of.”

The corner of Ulric’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, taking pleasure in her baiting.