The Bloodbound (6 page)

A murmur of laughter rippled through the group. Kilby seemed to think it was at his expense, and he didn't like it. He coloured. “With all due respect, my lady—”

“Captain.”

“With all due respect,
Captain
, we can afford no delay. Why keep our allies in the dark if it means risking the king's life? Why not simply tell them the truth and let us go about our duties? Greenhold might even tighten its defences.”

“Greenhold's defences are as tight as they're going to get.”

“Surely there is no question of Lord Green's loyalty?”

“What did you say?”
Her voice reverberated in the sudden silence.

Kilby swallowed, his gaze dropping. “I'm sorry, my lady, I meant no disrespect. I simply don't understand—”

“You are not required to understand anything, Commander.” She stalked over to him, boots ringing coldly against the stone floor. For the first time in her life, Alix thanked the gods for her height, for she would have felt ridiculous talking to the man's breastplate. As it was, she looked him right in the eye—or at least, she would have, had he not been studying his boots. “You are only required to follow orders. If that is too much for you, perhaps you would prefer lighter duties. There are always latrines that need digging.” She ducked her head until she had trapped his gaze. “And if you ever call me
my lady
again, I'll have you doing laps round the bailey in nothing but your boots and your dignity, and we shall see which of them wears out first. Is that clear?”

He drew himself up and stared straight ahead. “Yes, Captain.”

So much for making him my second.

“Is there anyone else who would like to register an opinion on how we do things?”

Silence. This time, she was grateful for the blank faces.

“Good. Now, it's time to go over the protocols during our stay at Greenhold. Listen carefully, because I will only say this once . . .”

*   *   *

An hour later,
Alix went in search of the king, two royal guardsmen at her heels. As expected, she found him in the library. King Erik's fondness for books was well known, and she'd noticed him admiring the collection in Lord Green's study. While she was pleased to have found him so quickly, she couldn't help feeling uneasy that his habits were so easy to guess. Fortunately, she had a plan to mitigate that problem. “Your Majesty, I'd like to introduce you to your nighttime detail.”

The king turned, an open book balanced in his hand. “I beg your pardon?”

“From now on, these men will be keeping an eye on things after you retire.”

Erik frowned. “You mean to put guards on my door? Is that really necessary?”

“I believe it is, Your Majesty.”

“Won't that draw too much attention? I thought the idea was to remain inconspicuous.”

“Indeed, sire, so long as that does not come at the expense of your safety. But don't worry—I'm aware that putting guards on the door will look strange. For that reason, the commander general will also have a guard on his door, as will some of the higher-ranking officers. I've discussed the matter with Lord Green, and he'll explain to his people that it's merely a courtesy guard for his guests, given the recent troubles.”

“Clever.” The king smiled. “But altogether too much trouble to go to, Captain. I appreciate the thought, but I really don't need guards on my door.”

Alix's jaw twitched.
First Kilby, now this.
“I think—”

“Nothing personal, chaps,” Erik said, still smiling. Alix glanced behind her to find the guardsmen staring at her uncomfortably. They had no idea how to react. Alix couldn't blame them.

“As you say, Your Majesty.”

There must have been more than a hint of frost in her voice, because the king cocked his head slightly. After a pause, he said, “Guards, will you excuse us a moment?” The two guardsmen beat a hasty retreat. Alix couldn't blame them for that, either. “You're angry with me,” Erik said when they'd gone.

She gazed over his shoulder. “It's not my place to be angry, Your Majesty.”

“Yet you very clearly are, so let's have it. What have I done?”

She met his eye. “You mean besides undermining my authority in front of my men?” It was beyond impudent, but she couldn't help it. She was still feeling raw after what had happened with Commander Kilby.

“My, my.” The king closed his book. “That is a serious charge. Do you really believe that's what I did?”

Careful, Alix.
It was too late to back down now, but she was on thin ice. For all his smiles and
Call me Erik
s, this was still the King of Alden, and she must never forget it. She took a deep breath. “If you had concerns with my proposal, Your Majesty, I would have preferred if you had taken them up with me in private.”

She expected him to be angry, or at least amused, by this display of self-importance, but instead he gave a thoughtful grunt. “I suppose that's fair.” He started to turn away.

“That being said . . .”

Erik turned back around, one eyebrow raised in mild disbelief.

“I don't want to have to justify the protections I put in place.”

“I'm not to have a say?”

“If I am to be your bodyguard, I must be allowed to do my duty. I can't have you fighting me every time I propose a new security measure.”

He frowned. “I hardly think I'm fighting you, Alix.”

“Maybe
fighting
is too strong a word. But you haven't been very . . .” She'd been about to say
helpful
, but that was going too far, even for her. She dropped her gaze.

The king sighed. “I haven't been very cooperative, have I?”

Alix didn't trust herself to respond.

“Very well.” Erik placed his book back on the shelf. “You're perfectly right, Captain. Of course you must have the freedom to execute your duties according to your judgement. I can't promise to stop getting in the way, but I do hope you'll tell me when I do.” His smile returned. “Somehow, I don't think that will be a problem for you.”

She flushed. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty.”

“Don't be. If you didn't have any spine, you wouldn't make much of a bodyguard. Now . . . you were about to make some introductions, were you not?”

Alix bowed and withdrew to fetch her guardsmen. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, a small celebration of a small victory. She'd looked the king in the eye and said her piece, and he'd backed down—not because he hesitated to put her in her place, but because he agreed with her. She took another deep breath, and this time, it was in satisfaction.

Maybe I'm going to like this job after all.

T
he following morning, the king stepped out of his chambers to find Alix waiting for him in the corridor. She must have been grinning, because he laughed and said, “Why, Captain, you're looking positively chipper this morning.”

Alix couldn't deny it—she
was
chipper, and why not? The Kingswords were victorious, she was finally finding her feet as captain of the royal guardsmen, and she had spent the night in a warm, soft bed—her first decent night's sleep since leaving Blackhold to take up her King's Service four months ago. She could almost forget her country was at war. “It's a good morning, Your Majesty,” she said.

Then they arrived at the solar, and one glance at Raibert Green was enough to banish that notion.

He and his cousin sat across from each other at the long table near the hearth, a bounty of breads and fruits and cheeses lying untouched between them. They stood as the king entered, Arran Green looking grave, his cousin worried.

Erik looked from one to the other, his own expression darkening. “What's happened?”

Arran Green's gaze slid to Alix. Raibert cleared his throat quietly and looked at the floor.

Oh, gods.

“A knight arrived at the gate just before dawn, Your Majesty,” Raibert said. “A Blacksword.”

Alix gripped the back of a chair, her heart stuttering in her chest.

“Blackhold has fallen.”

Alix heard the words, though she wasn't sure who spoke them. Her breath suddenly sounded hollow in her ears, as though she had slipped underwater. She felt a steadying hand press discreetly at her back. Erik.

“When?” His voice cracked like a whip.

“Ten days ago, or thereabouts,” said Raibert. “The knight—Commander Ellis, he's called—returned from an errand to find the village empty and the castle completely deserted.”

The king's jaw twitched. “Oridians.”

“A host of some thousands, according to the peasants,” Arran Green said, “though reports from lay folk are notoriously unreliable.”

“The good news is that Lord Black appears to have been warned in time to evacuate his household,” Raibert said. “He met the enemy on the field, most likely in order to buy time for his people to flee. The Blackswords were defeated, but the peasants claim that Lord Black escaped with some of his men.” Raibert strode around the table and took Alix by the shoulders. His pale eyes met hers steadily. “We believe your brother is safe, my lady. He was last seen heading east, toward the marshlands.”

She nodded numbly.

Erik lunged away, pacing on his crutch. “How in the Nine Domains did an Oridian army reach the Blacklands without any warning? We have sentries all along the border!”

“All along the southern border,” Arran Green corrected him. “My guess is they came through the mountains.”

“From Harram? Don't tell me they've taken another of our allies?”

“Not that we know of,” Raibert said. “They could have crossed through without the Harrami even knowing. The mountain passes are notoriously difficult to monitor, and the king's control over the tribal lands is minimal, to put it mildly.”

“The mountain tribes would never suffer a foreign host to pass through their lands,” Erik said. “Gods' blood, they don't even let their own king pass through!”

“Their king seeks to control their lands,” Arran Green pointed out. “The Oridians do not—at least not yet.”

“The Blacksword who brought the news,” Erik said, “where is he now? I would speak with him . . .”

The conversation continued, but Alix had stopped listening. She was vaguely aware of King Erik pacing behind her, of Arran Green explaining patiently, of Raibert watching her with sympathetic eyes.

We believe your brother is safe.
She focused on those words, willing her heart to settle. Rig
was
safe—she knew it in her bones. He was safe, and heading toward the marshlands, where the enemy would be loath to follow. He would be planning his next move, and Alix should be doing the same.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she said, “They're targeting the Banner Houses, Your Majesty.”

The king paused in his pacing. “Sorry?”

“The enemy. They've already struck Greenhold and Blackhold. The Browns and Greys are probably next, and the Golds after that, if it's worth their while. They're trying to take out the Banner Houses before we can regroup with the Kingswords.”

“I agree, Your Majesty,” Arran Green said, “and it is a sound strategy. Had we not arrived when we did, Greenhold would be under siege and powerless to aid our cause.”

“In that case,” said the king, “the enemy's failure has exposed his strategy, and that presents us with an opportunity.”

“It's not hard to guess where they will strike next,” Raibert said.

“The Brownlands.” The king resumed his pacing. “But it will take weeks for them to get there.”

“Indeed, sire,” said Arran Green, “which means we have time to prepare. We should send word to Lord Brown and Lady Grey immediately.”

“And the Golds, surely?” Raibert Green said.

His kinsman shrugged. “As you like, but the Golds are militarily insignificant. I doubt the enemy will trouble himself.”

“How many Blackswords do you think escaped?” the king asked.

“Impossible to know, but the peasants claimed several hundred.”

“We need those men.”

Arran Green grunted and scratched his beard. “What do you propose?”

“I propose that we find Riggard Black and his men and bring them here.”

The commander general frowned. “No simple task, Your Majesty. It will take time.”

The king gave a dismissive wave. “We planned to remain here awhile anyway, to restock and allow the men to recuperate. Let us make productive use of that time. Take your scouts and see if you can find Lord Black. If you do, we'll have gained hundreds of men. If not, we've lost nothing.”

“Your Majesty, I know Riggard Black is a friend, but—”

“He's more than that. He is the lord of a Banner House, and in case you have forgotten, my brother means to usurp my crown. I need Lord Black's swords, and I need his loyalty.”

Arran Green was visibly unconvinced, and even Alix could understand why. A few hundred men could hardly make a difference to their cause, not when the Oridians had fifty thousand at their border, and the Raven another twenty thousand in Erroman. Moreover, Rig's allegiance could not be in doubt—Erik had said so himself when he'd appointed Alix as his bodyguard. There was little to be gained by risking a search party. The king was making an emotional decision, not a pragmatic one. But the commander general would not dare say so aloud, so instead he fixed his disapproving gaze on Alix, as though she were responsible.

“It's only a few days, Green,” Erik said.

Arran Green nodded gravely and said nothing.

The king turned to Alix. “If you wish to go, I won't deny you. He is your brother, after all.”

Alix opened her mouth to thank him, but her conscience stole the words. She had sworn her service to the king. If she backed out now, she'd dishonour herself and her family. Rig would never forgive her for that. “I'm deeply grateful for the offer, Your Majesty, but my place is at your side.”

Arran Green's gaze softened into something suspiciously like approval. Erik, for his part, merely nodded.

“Shall we eat, then?” Raibert asked, gesturing at the table.

The king graciously offered Alix a place, but she could not have eaten if her life depended on it. All she could think about was Rig, adrift and possibly wounded, wandering the Blacklands with gods-knew-what for supplies. If he had any sense, he would make for some minor lord's holdings, or seek out their uncle at Karringdon. But Alix knew better than that. Rig would be crouched by a fire somewhere, honing his blade and hatching his plans.

As bold as a Black
, so the saying went, and it was truer of her brother than any of them. If Arran Green didn't find him, and soon, Rig would get himself killed.

*   *   *

“Are you sure
you're all right?” Liam asked.

Alix realised she'd been quiet for a long time, staring absently into the flames as her thoughts churned over themselves. She hadn't even noticed the others go to bed. “Sorry,” she said, running her hands over her face. “I'm fine, really.”

He eyed her doubtfully. “Maybe you just want me to sod off and leave you alone?”

“It's your campfire.”

“That's okay—I'll curl up in your nice bed in the castle and we'll call it even.”

She laughed. “Nice try.”

“Seriously,” he said, his smile fading, “you should get some sleep. It's late, and you've had a rough day.”

Alix glanced around at the slumbering camp. It must have been late indeed, for there were usually a few stragglers around until midnight, at least. Not only were she and Liam alone, most of the other fires had already dwindled to embers. Even so, Alix couldn't imagine going to sleep. “I'd just end up staring at the ceiling.”

He nodded. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Still, you seem to be handling this pretty well, considering.”

“I suppose that's because it could have been so much worse. At least Rig managed to hold the enemy back while everyone escaped. If they took the castle after that, well—all they got was timber and stone. And we'll get it back.”

Liam smiled and shook his head. “You're amazing, Allie, you know that?”

She was grateful for the glow of the fire, for it hid her blush. “Rig would box my ears if he found out that I sat around feeling sorry for myself.”

“Tell me about him. What's he like?”

“You don't have to do that.”

“No, really, I'm interested. Go on, then.” He shifted on the log, as though settling in for a good tale.

She loved him for that. Liam always seemed to know just what she needed. “You and my brother would get on well, actually. You share a penchant for bad jokes.”

He shook his head with mock sadness. “Hurtful, Alix.”

“That's what he would say.”

“A sensitive fellow.”

“A complete brute, actually.” She smiled fondly. “Impulsive, quick-tempered . . . A true child of Ardin.”

“You don't say. Does he have red hair, by any chance?”

“Funny. And no—he's dark, like our father was, and shaggy most of the time. When I was little, he tried to convince me that he was part bear, and for a while I believed him.”

“You were close.”

“We still are. We've had our differences, of course, especially when we were younger. You know how it is with siblings.”

“I really don't.”

There was something in the way he said it that gave Alix pause. “You've never told me about your family.” She hadn't really thought about it until now.

“That's because I haven't had one in a long time.” He shrugged, but the gesture was too stiff to be convincing. “My mother died when I was eleven, in the Year of the Great Fever.”

“Like my parents.”
Along with half the kingdom.
To this day, the Blacklands were dotted with empty villages. Alix supposed it was the same everywhere.

“After that, I stayed with my mother's husband, but I think it's fair to say we weren't great friends.” His mouth tightened into something hard and bitter.

“Your mother's husband?” She realised her mistake as soon as she'd spoken. She would have given anything to take it back, but it was too late—she could tell by the colour flooding Liam's cheeks.

“That's right,” he said. “I'm a bastard.”

She'd guessed as much, but until now, she'd been tactful enough to avoid the issue.
Nicely done, Alix.
She wanted to tell him it didn't matter, that she didn't care, but it would only sound trite. So instead she held her tongue, cursed herself, and stared at her lap.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I was squired to Arran Green when I was thirteen, and ever since then, he's been the closest thing I have to family.”

Until he dismissed you without even making you a knight.
Aloud, Alix said, “I'm sorry, Liam.”

“Don't be. I was happy enough with Green. He always treated me well, and I appreciated that, especially after . . .” He trailed off, his gaze fixed on the fire. His whole body seemed to tense, to coil protectively over itself, and for a moment, Alix glimpsed him as a boy—a small, frightened boy. Suddenly, she understood.

Oh, Liam.

Impulsively, she reached out and brushed his face with her fingertips. He looked over at her, his features cast half in amber, half in shadow. “They healed a long time ago,” he said quietly.

Alix wasn't so sure. “Have you seen him since then? Your stepfather?”

He started to answer, then made a disgusted sound and shook his head. “Gods, I'm a selfish
prat
.” He leaned over and put his arms around her. “I'm sorry, Allie. I don't know how I made this about me all of a sudden. The last thing you need right now is to listen to somebody whining about family.”

She let him fold her into his chest, just as he had done that night at the barracks, months before. That night, just that once, the loneliness had been too much for her, and she'd broken down. Liam had held her close. He'd stroked her hair and called her
Allie
. He'd felt like a brother.

He didn't feel like a brother now. Alix's insides swam with something warm and giddy and subtly terrifying. She closed her eyes, letting the feel of him surround her.

“Do you forgive me?” His voice sounded from his chest, rich and resonant against her ear.

Was it her imagination, or was he breathing faster? She looked up at him. He was watching her, his dark eyes shining in the firelight. This time, Alix didn't wait for him to decide. She stretched up and pressed her lips to his forehead.