Cara's Twelve (19 page)

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.

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.”

Both women bowed their heads in formal greeting.

“I trust my son has done his best to represent Colechester with dignity and grace,” Lady Bethany said stiffly.

Cara blinked at the woman, until she realized that she must be Wesley's mother.

“He has,” Cara offered, even though she knew very little of Wesley. He had remained somewhat obscure to her.

“Come let us take a seat,” Lord Wilber said, guiding Cara to the banquet table, seating her next to his wife.

“You have a lovely home Lady Hadlee,” Cara said.

“I'm sure it's a nice change after visiting the eastern provinces. I've heard the most horrendous rumors about those places. I can't even imagine how you managed to stay in such filth and desolation. I pity you when you have to visit Dalgliesh. I've heard that there peasant folk don't even where clothes. They just run around naked all day, like animals. I've even heard rumors that they paint themselves like blue demons and wear the teeth of their slain enemies around their necks.”

Cara was taken back by the woman's words. Was she being serious? Did she actually believe the things she said, or were her words merely for effect?

“Tahdaon has never mentioned such,” Cara murmured, trying not to react to the woman's prejudice. “You may get more reliable information if you speak to him yourself.”

“Oh, is that the name of the Dalglieshan you travel with?” Lady Hadlee regarded her, and then turned her gaze to Tahdaon who sat near the end of the table with Hauk. “What a beast of a man. I'm surprised he has survived this long, but then again we have become more civilized in recent years, or your men aren't as ambitious as the last group. Either way, I was so sorry to hear about the loss of your Crowthornian man. What was his name?”

“Reyn,” Cara said quietly, wishing she were seated next to anyone other than the Viceroy's wife.

“Reyn, right, well, I can't really say we were all that surprised to hear about his unfortunate accident. A fire wasn't it? Everything is so poorly made in those backwater provinces. It must have been absolutely deplorable conditions. From what I've heard their beds are filled with lice and bedbugs, but you would know better than myself of course, having been there.”

Cara's breath hissed between her teeth, and she held the woman's gaze unblinking. “Crowthorne may not have as many resources or connections as Colechester, but it is a beautiful province, and its people are well-mannered unlike some of the other places I have visited.” Lady Hadlee huffed at the insult, but Cara continued her rant. “Once I am queen, I can assure you that the ridiculous tax burdens that have crippled the province will surcease, and Crowthorne will once again prosper. As the future queen of this country, I take offense to anyone insulting any of the provinces, especially the one I that I called home less than a year ago.”

Lady Hadlee's hand slid over her mouth, silvery grey eyes wide in embarrassment. “Oh dear, I forgot you grew up in Crowthorne. I didn't mean to offend you. Wilber is constantly reprimanding me for speaking without thinking.”

Cara didn't argue with her. The woman was rude and outspoken, but she had said something that had sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said you were surprised Tahdaon has survived this long?”

“Oh, forgive my blathering. I didn't mean to worry you, although I'm sure you wouldn't mind being rid of such a man from your company.”

Cara stiffened at the woman's words. “Quite the contrary, Lady Hadlee.”

“Oh, well,” her voice rose in surprise, and gave a startled laugh. “I didn't mean for you to take offense. We just aren't used to having Dalglieshans under our roof, and it makes me slightly nervous.”

“Tahdaon is harmless.” That wasn't exactly true, but Cara wouldn't tell the Viceroy's wife otherwise.

“Well, that's reassuring,” she said, inclining her head, but Cara could see the skepticism in her expression. “Perhaps that's why he's survived as long as he has. From what I remember of Birkita's Twelve, she had already lost three of her men by the time they reached Colechester. If memory serves me, the Dalglieshan was the first to go, but then I was only a small child at the time, so I could be mistaken.”

Cara frowned. She had heard similar rumors, but she had attributed them to the corruption surrounding Birkita's reign, rather than animosity among the men.

“What happened to them?”

A harsh smile curved her lips. “Accidents, illness, there was always an excuse, but everyone knew the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Oh dear, don't look so startled. Surely you have to realize that this——” She made a grand gesture with her hands. “The tour. The moon festivals. It's all a competition. Think about it. Only one of the men can become king, and no man, especially one with ambition, wouldn't leave such a decision in the hands of a woman.”

Cara's sucked in a breath. “Is that how your nephew sees his position, as a game to be won?”

“No, no,” she said light-heartedly, patting Cara's hand. “We told our Wesley right from the start to keep his head down. There hasn't been a king from Colechester on the throne in over two hundred years, and we didn't expect our dear Wesley to be the first. Especially not with his predisposition, if you know what I mean.”

Cara had no clue what the woman meant, but she nodded anyway, and encouraged her to continue. She didn't know what to believe, but the very thought of the men conspiring against each other, made her blood run cold.

“Don't despair, your men seem like perfect gentlemen. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about.”

Cara cast a sideways glance towards the end of the table where Edmund sat with Arwel and Theo. He had kept his distance over the past couple of months, and she had almost forgotten of his threats. Maybe she was wrong to overlook him, but then if he was going to threaten any of the men, she would have thought he would have done so by now. Maybe he already had and they had kept it from her.

She needed to talk to Helfrich. He would know if anything Lady Hadlee had said was true.

The dinner dragged on, and Cara found herself grinding her teeth at the woman's incessant chirping.

“If you'll excuse me, I have a touch of a headache. I think I'll retire to my chambers for the evening.”

“Of course dear,” replied Lady Hadlee. “I look forward to speaking more with you tomorrow.”

Cara cringed inwardly and managed to smile.

She tried to catch Finn's gaze as she left the hall, but he was in a heated discussion with Lord Wilber, and she didn't want to interrupt him and be dragged into another tedious conversation.

Outside of the hall she paused, shifted into the shadows, and tried not to gasp at what she saw.

“How could you leave me there?”

Cara didn't know the young man who spoke, but she recognized Wesley immediately, and she stared in shocked silence as she watched him draw the man into an intimate kiss.

“I had no choice,” Wesley said as he drew away, but his hand still lingered on the young man's cheek. “I can't tell you the reason, but we were forced to leave the palace alone. You know I would have come for you if I could. My heart has been breaking ever since we left, knowing you would think that I abandoned you.”

“Do you love her? Is that it? Is that the reason you won't take me with you when you leave?” the man whined.

“No,” Wesley replied. “Landon, listen to me. You don't understand the risk you would take if you came with me.”

“I don't care about the risk. I want to be with you.”

“I won't put you in danger,” Wesley said softly, taking the man's hands in his own. Cara could see the desperation in his eyes. He was in love with the man. There was no doubt.

The young man, who Wesley had called Landon, shook his head in despair, and turned on his heels. Wesley followed after him, and Cara stood as still as a statue, trying to comprehend what had just transpired.

“Didn't anyone ever tell you it isn't nice to spy on others?”

Cara whirled around and came face to face with Tahdaon.

“Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not nice to sneak up on people?” she hissed, placing a hand over her rapidly beating heart.

He smirked.

“Did you know about that?” she asked, motioning towards the spot where Wesley and his lover had just been.

“I had my suspicions,” he said, tilting his head as if studying her. “Does it bother you?”

Cara frowned. She didn't know if it did or not. She wouldn't begrudge Wesley for having loved someone else, but the thought of a man being with another man was a new concept for her. The practice was frowned upon in Crowthorne, as it was in most parts of Elbia. Colechester was more liberal in its thinking, but she hadn't imagined Wesley liked men, but then she had never really given him much thought in any respect.

“I suppose I'm just surprised. I've never known anyone who was attracted to someone of the same sex before.”