The Bloodsworn (5 page)

“Well.” He scratched his beard. “You have me there.”

“On top of which,” Alix added bitterly, “look how well
that
turned out.”

Rig sighed. “Try not to be too dramatic, Allie. Give it time. You'll see things more clearly, and so will he.”

“Unless I don't make it back from Andithyri. Or Liam is found out, and ends up in the Red Tower, or . . .” She clamped her eyes shut, shook her head.

She heard Rig stir, and a moment later, his arms went around her. Alix sank gratefully into her brother's embrace, knowing it was the last bit of comfort she would have for a very long time.

*   *   *

“You didn't tell me your sister was coming.” Rig didn't miss the faint whiff of accusation in Vel's voice, nor the tense lines of her shoulders as she poured herself some wine.

He didn't miss it, but he didn't acknowledge it, either. “I didn't know,” he said simply.

“Had a sudden urge for a visit, did she?”

“Not exactly.”

Vel waited for more; when it didn't come, she took her irritation out on the wine jug, setting it down roughly enough to send liquid sloshing over the top. “My, you are wonderfully verbose this evening. And could you tell me what is so fascinating about that fire that you can barely be bothered to glance at me while we're speaking?”

Rig sighed and turned away from the hearth. “I've got a lot on my mind, Vel.”

Her expression softened. “Bad news from your sister?”

“Something of an understatement, that.”

Vel set her wine down and came over, slipping her arms around him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Some of it I can't discuss.” He'd learned that it was best to be direct with her about such things. She could nearly always tell when he was holding back; lying about it only hurt her. Anyway, she seemed largely to have made her peace with it. He was, after all, commander general of the king's armies. Secrets came with the territory. “I can give you the basics, though.”

“Tell me,” she crooned in her priestess voice, that soothing cadence that thrummed along Rig's spine. “You'll feel better.”

Rig doubted that, but he had reasons of his own for telling her. “Alix is planning to infiltrate Andithyri, she and the two knights she came with.”

Vel drew back, eyes round with surprise. She knew better than anyone just how dangerous that could be, having done it herself only a month ago. “Why?”

“That's the part I can't tell you.” He brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear, an affectionate gesture to soften the blow. “But it's important, obviously.”

“I thought your sister was the king's bodyguard?”

He needed to be careful here; Vel was too clever to overlook even small clues. “She is,” he said, “but she's also the stealthiest scout we've got.” He smiled, in spite of himself. “If it calls for sneaking, you can't do better than Alix Black. That's been so since she was small. A born thief, that one.”

“I'd forgotten. You raised her, didn't you?”

“Since she was eleven. A royal pain in the ass, she was. Still is, I suppose. Headstrong as an old mule. A true child of Ardin.”

“How could she be otherwise, raised by you?”

“You're hardly one to talk, my dear.”

Vel feigned indignation, withdrawing to retrieve her wine. “Being passionate is one thing, being stubborn entirely another. Ardin has no domain over obstinacy; that belongs to Destan.”

“Whichever Holy Virtue it belongs to, the Black family has never lacked for it,” Rig said, accepting a cup of wine. “And neither do you.”

She regarded him shrewdly from under long, dark lashes. “I may be stubborn, but I am also an ordained priestess of Eldora. When it counts, I am guided foremost by prudence, which is what allowed me to steal across enemy lines and contact the Resistance without being caught. But you already know all that.” She sighed, her gaze dropping to her wine. “Which is why you're going to ask me to go with her.”

Rig should have known she'd guess it. Too clever by half, this one. He took her wine and set it aside, covered her hands in his. Her fingers looked tiny and delicate in his grasp, like the pinions of a bird trapped in the paws of a beast. “Alix will never find what she's looking for on her own. She'll need help from the locals.”

“By which you mean the Resistance. And you want me to act as go-between.”

“I would never ask it of you if it weren't a matter of life and death. Not just my sister's, but . . .” He stopped himself, recalibrated. “There's a lot at stake, Vel. More than I can tell you.”

“Yet you would ask me to lay down my life for it.” He couldn't read her expression; it was too smooth, too penetrating.

“It's unfair of me, I know.”

“But you know perfectly well that I'll do it.” She pulled away. “And you know perfectly well why.”

He did. Just as she knew that he couldn't return those feelings, at least not right now. Apparently, though, he wasn't above using her love as leverage. He hated himself for that, but . . . “This is war, Vel.”

“Yes, it is.” She drew herself up and met his gaze. Candlelight
burnished her features, painting her in flaming defiance, a portrait of such fervid beauty that it took Rig's breath away. “And you needn't worry, General. I'll not be a bystander in this chapter any more than I was in the last.”

Pride flared in Rig's blood. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard. Dimly, some part of him registered that it might have been wrong of him, but if Vel felt manipulated, she didn't seem to mind. She was fierce, his priestess, and matched his passion with her own, as if answering a challenge. And then of course she had to outbid him, pressing her body into his, tugging suggestively at his armour. The thin thread of restraint snapped. Rig hoisted her onto the table, sending the wine jug teetering dangerously. She hiked her robes up around her thighs and wrapped her legs around him, ignoring the sound of fabric tearing as her hem caught the edge of his chain mail. That would have to come off, right now. Buckles,
so many blighted buckles
, stood between him and what he wanted, but Vel was practiced by now, fingers deft and sure; she stripped the armour from him piece by piece, letting it clatter to the floor. More fabric ripping, Rig wasn't sure where, but it didn't matter, she didn't care; his hands climbed the bare skin of her thighs, soft beneath his callused palms.

“We're going to spill the wine,” she breathed.

She was teasing him. She knew nothing could stop him now, not the Warlord himself. He slipped his fingers inside her smallclothes, making sure the momentum wasn't his alone. She nipped his ear, near hard enough to draw blood, and he knew she was with him. Still, he took no shortcuts, kissing her throat while he stroked her, listening to her breath climb in pitch until she gasped, her whole body seizing. Then he scooped her off the table, just high enough to rid her of those last scraps of clothing in his way. Her fingers twined in his hair in anticipation. She threw her head back as he took her, neck curved invitingly, skin glowing bronze in the candlelight. Rig paused to savour the feel of her, the sweet ache of tension hurtling toward him in an ever-building wave.

She clutched at him, impatient.

Rig surrendered himself to instinct, riding the riptide to oblivion.

*   *   *

Sleep had almost claimed him when the guilt came rushing back.

“Vel.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, rolling onto her side. Dark eyes peered at Rig through a mass of dishevelled black hair. Gods, she was beautiful.

“I hope I didn't . . . I wouldn't want you to think . . .”

She let him struggle for a moment before she took pity on him, full mouth curving into a smile. “I'm a grown woman, Riggard Black. I am capable of resisting your charms if I so choose.”

“I wasn't trying to manipulate you, is all,” Rig said gruffly.

“I would hardly think you capable of anything so subtle.”

“I'm serious, Vel. I may be thoughtless sometimes, but I'm not a
complete
bastard.”

She hitched a shoulder indifferently. “You're making an issue where there is none. Ardin was in your blood, and in mine. I see no need to complicate a most enjoyable couple of hours.”

He sighed, gazing up at the ceiling. Somehow, he doubted she would see it that way a few days from now.

“It's not the lovemaking you feel guilty about,” Vel said with cutting clarity.

“You're right, it isn't.”

“It is unfair of you to ask me to go. I'll not spare you that. But I choose to believe I would have done it anyway, even if my feelings for you were”—she faltered briefly—“less than they are.”

“I think so too.” They both needed to believe that, though for very different reasons.

“The situation is obviously grave.” Vel slid over and tucked herself into him, head propped on his chest. “Your sister's expression made that clear enough. She looked near to tears when I walked in.”

“She was, though that had as much to do with personal problems as matters of war and peace.”

“She would not wish you to tell me about it, I suppose.”

“I shouldn't think so.”

He fell silent, thoughts drifting back to his conversation with Alix. She'd always had a flair for drama, but this time, Rig had
no doubt things were serious. That dull look in her eyes, how fragile she'd felt in his arms . . . He'd never seen her like that, and it hurt like hell. He'd spent his whole life protecting her, but he couldn't shield her from this. If his sister's marriage was in trouble, there wasn't a damned thing Rig could do about it.

Trust was everything in a relationship. If Alix and Liam had lost that . . .
Can you ever really get it back?

“Get what back?”

Rig started; he hadn't realised he'd spoken aloud. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Trust. How once it's lost . . . Do you think it can ever be rebuilt?”

He felt her tense. “Why do you ask?”

“Just something my sister said. Wondering if it's possible for a relationship to overcome the past.”

A pause. “I certainly hope so.”

“Me too,” Rig said, and drifted into sleep.

“H
ard to say,” Dain Cooper admitted, grimacing as he peered through the longlens. “Trees are too dense to see much of anything.”

Dense and in the full exuberance of spring, a riot of fresh green in every possible shade. It should have been beautiful, but all Alix saw was menace, a thousand hiding places for enemy scouts. The Wolves felt it too, she could tell. Dain still had the longlens to his eye, tracking systematically back and forth, scanning the Andithyrian side of the river. Ide had her bloodbow strung, arrow in hand. Even the priestess, Vel, had her bottom lip drawn between her teeth, squinting across the wide expanse of the Gunnar as though she might see more with her naked eye than Dain with the longlens.

We should have waited a day
, Alix thought. She could have studied Rig's maps a little longer, deliberated a little more carefully about whether she wanted a complete stranger for an escort. But there was little point in regretting her decision now. “If the enemy is out there,” she said, “he'll show himself soon enough.”

“We should go carefully,” the priestess advised, “and not
only because of the Oridians. It was early in the season when I crossed. The river is higher now.”

“How much higher?” Dain asked. “Can you tell?”

“About a foot, perhaps a little more. In which case it should be manageable. It came to just below my waist last time, and I'm the shortest among us.” Looking Alix and Ide up and down, she added, “By quite some measure.”

The remark nettled, as it had Alix's whole life—especially coming from someone as dainty as Vel. “What about those?” she said coolly, gesturing at the priestess's robes. “Not the most practical attire for wading across a river.”

Vel gathered her robes, which Alix now saw were split down the sides, and swept aside the folds to reveal close-fitting leggings. Wrapping the loose flaps around her waist, Vel tied them off and out of the way. She shot Alix a highly expressive look before stepping confidently into the water.

“Better let me go first,” Ide said, wading in beside the priestess. “I'm the one with the bow. Carry my pack, Dain?”

Alix brought up the rear, breath catching as the water climbed her thighs. Swollen with snowmelt, the Gunnar was scarcely above freezing; its touch stung like a whip. Alix had no doubt her legs would be numb by the time they reached the far bank.

They crossed slowly, choosing each footfall with great caution. The current was fast here, and their packs were heavy enough to make swimming all but impossible, especially with the frigid water shocking the breath from their lungs. Even a rolled ankle could lead to disaster. Ide did double duty in the point position, carefully selecting their path even as she kept her bow trained on the far bank. Alix's nerves prickled with every step, and not just from the cold. They were so vulnerable out here in the middle of the water, an easy target for any competent archer. And slow—gods, it was taking
forever
. The water dragged at Alix's wool leggings, and her boots felt heavy and clumsy. It was like one of those nightmares where her limbs wouldn't quite work, weighing her down even as she sensed some unseen threat looming. Her heart pounded, fear and the bitter chill of the water spurring her pulse to a gallop.

A rustle in the trees sent a bright arc of panic through her, but it was only a bird taking flight. It caught one of Ide's
arrows square in the breast and plummeted like a stone. Ide cursed, annoyed at the waste of a shaft.

“You didn't have to kill it,” the priestess said.

“Got the shot off before I knew what it was,” Ide returned irritably. “And it's a bloodbow, isn't it? Not like I could miss.”

Their voices carried dangerously across the water.
“Quiet,”
Alix growled.

At last, mercifully, they gained the far bank. Alix dragged herself out of the water, wincing as she dropped into a stiff crouch.

“Well, we made it,” Dain said.

Alix couldn't manage to feel relieved. Gaining the far bank meant they'd crossed the border. They were in occupied Andithyri now. The Warlord's territory. And the deeper into it they forged, the greater the threat would become.

“The game trail picks up again just up there,” Vel said, pointing.

“How long before we hit the farmlands?” Alix asked.

“I doubt we will reach the forest's edge before nightfall. Better to camp under cover.”

As though I need a priestess telling me how to scout.
Alix pushed the thought aside. She had more important things to worry about than her pride. However much it irked her, however strange it was to be walking into mortal danger with her brother's lover as her guide, she needed to make an effort to get along with this woman. There was too much at stake to be distracted by trifles. “And after that,” she said, “how long until we find this Wraith?”

“He will find us, I should think, or rather his men will. He has scouts posted all along the river, keeping an eye on the Warlord's movements.”

“Wraith,” Ide muttered. “What kind of name is that?”

“Mysterious and unsettling,” Dain said, “or at least, that's the idea. The Onnani rebellion used to do the same, back in the days of the empire. The most celebrated of the rebel commanders all had names like that—Viper, Deadeye, and suchlike. Seems kind of ironic that the white-hairs would take up the tradition.”

“That they would adopt the practices of the very people who revolted against their rule?” Vel hummed thoughtfully.
“Yes, it does rather, now that you mention it.” She smiled at Dain. “It is good to have one of my countrymen along on this journey, Commander.”

“Just Dain, thanks. And I consider myself an Aldenian first and foremost, though I am proud of my heritage.” He smiled back at her, adding, “It is nice, though, to not be the only Onnani in the party for once.”

“Though you are the only bloke,” Ide pointed out. “No getting ideas.”

Dain rolled his eyes.

“If we could get back to the Andithyrian Resistance, please,” Alix said dryly. “If they're likely to pick us up quickly, then we'd better be prepared. Anything we need to know, Vel?” There hadn't been time for a proper briefing before they left the fort; Alix had been too determined to strike out immediately. She could feel the hours slipping through her fingers, each one as precious as a grain of gold. Her king was bloodbound and locked away in his own palace. It was only a matter of time before he got out, or word of him did, and that would be the death of her husband. Her brother, meanwhile, was left holding the line against twenty thousand Oridians. Everything depended on what Alix did here, and how quickly she did it.

Which was why she'd let Rig talk her into bringing along a civilian—a priestess, no less.
She'd better pull her weight
.

As if sensing the thought, Vel's expression smoothed, all business now. “I'm not sure how much you already know about the Resistance.”

“Only a little. They're a fairly new phenomenon, from what I can tell.”

“Our knowledge of them is, at any rate,” Vel said. “I have the impression that they are not quite as new as we suppose.”

“A good bet,” Dain said. “Seems likely they'd be around for a while before word reached our ears of it.”

“White-hairs are a prideful lot,” Ide put in, “being they used to rule the empire and all. Getting conquered can't sit well with them. Probably been working against the Trionate from the beginning.”

“Though how organised they are,” Vel said, “we cannot tell. Myself, I am not convinced that the Resistance operates as a single cohesive entity. General Black and I believe they
may be more of a loose coalition of cells operating independently.”

General Black.
The priestess had yet to refer to Rig by his given name, or even as
your brother
. Deliberate, Alix judged, as was the reminder that she enjoyed Rig's confidence.
She knows how you feel about all this, and she's as uncomfortable with it as you are.
If anything, that only made things more awkward.

“How many are they?” Alix asked.

Vel shook her head. “I asked few questions of that nature. General Black did not send me for the purposes of reconnaissance, but rather to establish contact. I judged that asking too many pointed questions would strain our fragile trust.”

She had good instincts for a civilian, Alix had to admit. “How fragile is that trust, exactly?”

“Stronger now, I think, after we worked together successfully in the last battle.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Not that I can think of, except perhaps to remember that these are hard, dangerous men. Wraith, especially. He is difficult to read. We should not anticipate a warm welcome. Nor, I think, should we anticipate charity.”

“Meaning?”

Vel shrugged. “Only that his first priority is the freedom of his country.”

“And my priority is Alden's freedom.”
And the freedom of her king
, Alix added inwardly.

“May those two priorities never diverge,” the priestess said, as solemn as a prayer.

*   *   *

They were making good time the following day when the priestess saw fit to stop—in the middle of a field, in broad daylight, where any Sam Stumble-Along could see.

“We need to keep moving,” Alix said.

Vel scarcely seemed to hear. “I don't understand it. Wraith's men should have found us by now.”

“
Someone
certainly will if we don't get out of the open.”

“Maybe the Resistance has moved on,” Dain said.

Alix shook her head. “That wouldn't make sense. This area
is teeming with Sadik's men. If the Resistance wants to keep an eye on them, this is where they'll be.”

“They are nearby,” Vel said. “I
know
it.” To Alix's ears, it sounded more like wishful thinking than a statement of fact.

“Keep moving.” Putting actions to words, Alix brushed past the priestess and continued across the field.

Highmount had been right about the terrain being open. And Liam, she was forced to admit, had been right about it posing a problem. Avoiding the roads might lessen the odds of bumping into Oridian soldiers, but it also made their party look suspicious, tracking through fields of winter wheat without hoe or harrow.
Maybe we should find a place to hole up for a few days
, she thought.
That might make us easier to find.
For the Resistance, but also, she realised, for the Warlord. Sadik would have spies out here as well as soldiers, and in the land of the white-hairs, Alix could hardly be more conspicuous. Even if she managed to keep her flaming red locks tucked under her hood, two of her party were Onnani, a rare enough sight in Andithyri to draw unwanted attention.
No getting around it
, she thought grimly.
Spotted is branded, and branded is most likely dead.

Such were her thoughts when the soldiers appeared.

She knew them for Oridians the moment she saw them, even from clear across the field. They were on horseback, and in occupied country, only soldiers got to keep their horses.

“Dain,” she hissed, but he didn't need to be told; he was peering down the longlens already.

“Five—no, six. They've definitely seen us. They're headed this way.”

Alix reeled under a sickening wave of fear. Not for herself, but for the mission. She could not afford to fail.

Dain still had the longlens to his eye. “Can you take them, Ide?”

“Not at this range. Most I'd get is one or two before the rest found cover and started shooting back.”

“Too risky,” Alix said. “They won't assume we're a threat straightaway. Let them get close. It'll be easier to take them if we have to.”

“Better let me bring up the rear, then,” Ide said, “and keep a tight ring around me so they can't see my bow.”

“Hide your packs in the wheat,” Alix said. “We may yet talk our way out of this.” The enemy soldiers didn't have a longlens, or if they did, they hadn't used it—their leisurely pace was proof enough of that.
Looking for some peasants to bully, no doubt. Well, let them try to bully us.
The thought brought a welcome fire to her belly.

They were drunk, Alix saw as the riders drew near; she could tell by the lazy way they sat their horses. A mixed blessing, that. Six to three was poor odds (the priestess didn't count), but drunkenness might just even things out. On the other hand, there were few things in the world more quarrelsome than a soldier in his cups. Alix slipped a hand under her cloak, felt the reassuring steel at her hip. She ran a thumb over the garnet buried in the hilt that marked her blade as bloodforged. Another advantage, assuming the Oridians didn't carry bloodblades of their own.
Not very likely
, she told herself. Too rare and valuable, especially now that the Kingswords had slain the Priest, greatest and most prolific of the enemy bloodbinders.