Tranquility's Grief Page 19

  Just like old times, Bethany’s fist landed square on his jaw while he’d been distracted by his genitals. He lost his balance and stumbled precariously close to the fire. Concern flashed across Bethany’s face, but only for a moment. Coldness quickly overtook it.

  “If you want a brawl, Arrago Cedar, I’ll give you one you won’t soon forget.”

  “You’d like that. The chance to be angry instead of show any form of real emotion,” he shouted at her. “You fancy yourself a great warrior, but you’re just a hired thug. I am a revolutionary.” He jabbed a finger at his chest. “I outrank you.”

  She shoved against his chest. “I made you.”

  “I made myself after you lied to me.”

  “Never mind that I wanted to die when you left me,” she screamed.

  Arrago stared at her, shocked. Her cheeks colored and tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to speak, but it was clear to even him that it was taking everything she had to just to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

  He stared into her eyes and realized he had been wrong. He’d assumed she was angry at him. She wasn’t. She was devastated. He’d taught her to open up her heart and he’d stomped all over it. He’d left her to face the deaths of Drea and Torius, and the agony of knowing she did not do enough to stop it. She’d taken command of the Silver Knights and marched an army north, to stop a madman and her own sister.

  And here he was, having what amounted to a pissing contest in the snow with her.

  He took two steps toward her and Bethany stiffed, as if preparing herself for another blow. Instead, he reached out and touched her face, running his hand down the scar tissue on her cheek. A dark, hollow ache consumed him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “It will take more than a few punches to hurt me.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  Bethany closed her eyes. She whispered, “It makes the most sense to combine our forces under my flag.”

  He smiled, even if she could not see it. He leaned his face against hers and her breath hitched. “Compromise, Bethany. The troops will remain under my control and I will act as one of your field commanders.”

  “I hate you,” she whispered. “I hate you so much.”

  “I hate you, too,” he replied back through a grin. “Words cannot describe how much I hate you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  They will become disciples of the Viper and betray the Diamond.

  -Aleu’s “The Agony of the Diamond”

  Amber hurried to reach Bethany’s tent. She was late for a meeting, and didn’t want to risk her wrath. Not that Bethany would do anything to her, but she didn’t want to add to the woman’s problems.

  Amber practiced what she’d say to Bethany. She’d first go over the needs of the civilians. She’d summarize how she’d worked with Her Grace to organize the women of the village with the women of the baggage train to pool resources and skills. Finally, she’d end with how over one hundred fifty new sunken snow shelters were being built every day, not counting the large tent houses, and the picket shelters that Edmund’s team was building.

  Bethany, of course, would be relieved to hear that shelters were going up so quickly and that medical and supply needs were being addressed. At that point, Bethany would begin to look down at the maps on her desk and ask if there was anything else. That’s when Amber would strike.

  She would continue the practiced script. She would say that the camp gossip was about Bethany not being at her full strength if a raid should happen. Amber would recommend Bethany taking a break, eat a good meal, and sleep a full night.

  Bethany, being Bethany, would dismiss her concerns out of hand, politely thanking her for the concern, but that she was too busy to rest.

  But, then Eve would go in for her briefing, detailing supply route fortifications. And tell Bethany she needed to rest.

  Jovan, of course, would sally forth and tell Bethany she looks like horse shit. Bethany would threaten to remove his eyes with a fork.

  Then, Erem would tell Bethany all about the fortification building between the river and the forest, barricading the town from a major offensive. And then he’d tell Bethany she needed to rest. She would snap at Erem and tell him to mind his own business.

  Then, Lendra would come in with her usual smile replaced with a grave expression. She’d whine and nay and beg until Bethany would give in because, in the end, Bethany would never say no to Lendra’s teary eyes.

  That was the plan cooked up over last night’s barley and turnip stew. They all agreed to wear Bethany’s defenses down until Lendra could swoop in with her sad eyes and beg her big sister to do anything she asked.

  Nerves fluttered around in Amber’s guts, but she continued her path to Bethany’s tent. She ran a gloved hand across her belly. She grinned widely, and the young, apprentice blacksmiths she passed all smiled back, thinking the smile was for them. Her smiles, however, were only for the shy elf whose child grew in her belly.

  Around Bethany’s tent, however, a small crowd had gathered. Mostly Knights, mostly those she knew. Curiosity piqued, she asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Shh, they’ll hear you,” Jovan chided.

  “Who?” Amber asked the group. She found herself leaning in like the others, but there was too much noise around them from the hammering smiths to barking dogs to hear anything. Her control over the ability to hear thoughts had slowly gained some walls around it again, and she would not risk pulling them down for nothing more than some gossip. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s because you’re talking,” Jovan snapped, his voice still a loud whisper.

  At that, Kiner rolled his dark eyes, but he offered Amber a smile.

  Lendra, ever exuberant, began to giggle. “Arrago is in there with Bethany, alone.”

  That was interesting! Amber struggled to wipe the smile off her face, but she couldn’t help it. She really liked Arrago. He was such a good balance for Bethany. “Does the quiet mean one of them is dead?”

  Lendra laughed, but slapped a hand over her mouth at Jovan’s glare. “Bethany called Arrago a son of a whore, and then Arrago said he wasn’t afraid of her. And then they started screaming at each other. And now, nothing.” A giant grin formed on her face. “I think they’re getting naked.”

  “Lendra!” Jovan snapped. “Merciful Goddess, don’t talk about those things.”

  Lendra’s expression turned sullen. “It’s not fair. Everyone else gets to talk about sex, but —”

  Jovan shouted, “Shut up! I remember bathing you when you were little. Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

  Kiner gave Lendra an encouraging look, which seemed to encourage the girl a little too much. She perked up, her face brightening. Kiner let out a sigh and looked away, and Amber had to cover her mouth and stifle her laughter with a delicate cough.

  Crestfallen, Lendra looked at Amber and said, “I hate being the youngest.”

  And that’s when Lendra screamed.

  ****

  Bethany pushed Arrago away as soon as her brain registered the high pitched scream outside. She chided herself for letting Arrago weasel his way back into her attentions and vowed to never, ever be alone with him again. He couldn’t be trusted.

  Neither could she.

  Bethany grabbed her Blessed Blades from the table and rushed out of the tent, Arrago close behind. She looked around her to see several dozen cloaked figures in between the tents, with about a thousand swords, crossbows, and arrows pointed in their direction.

  Bethany shivered against the cold and strode to them, aiming for a tight balance between uncontrolled rage and authoritativeness. On their cloaks were the small pins that she’d seen before when Sarissa’s people attacked Eve’s brothel. They’d used them to disappear.

  Magic.

  Bethany tightened the grip on her swords. “Speak quickly.”

  A short, round woman stretched her arms out, slowly, to show she was weaponless. Bethany did not flinch; Magic
did not require a weapon, merely the end of a life and the evil thoughts behind it.

  “I am—”

  “I don’t care. What do you want?”

  The woman glared at Bethany, but her eyes were the only sign that she was displeased. She inclined her head and said, “We are here to deliver a message from King Daniel.”

  Bethany narrowed her eyes and asked, “And holding a sword to a child’s throat is a part of that message?”

  The woman held Lendra’s curls in her hand, pulling the girl’s head back. Gleaming metal pressed against her sister’s bared throat. Bethany controlled her breathing and tried not to let fear overwhelm her. She’d promised Aneese and Allric she would protect Lendra.

  “The girl is leverage,” the woman said. “Attack me or my sisters, and their hostages die.”

  Bethany did not survey the number of knives held at the throats of her people. She focused on the woman holding her sister and said, “Deliver your message and be gone.”

  How had they gotten through? She’d assigned Rygents at every checkpoint. Wasn’t that enough? And why didn’t she have the usual reaction to Magic that she used to? Why no headaches of warning? How could she protect her people if Sarissa’s could cloak themselves in the wind?

  “Go back to your temple.”

  Bethany thrummed her fingers of her right hand against the hilt of the blade. “Or?”

  “We will slit your throats while you sleep,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you.” Bethany’s heart pounded in her chest, anger and excitement of the fight bubbling inside her. “Now, please deliver my message for Daniel. Surrender or I’ll turn every Magi in this wasteland to a burning heap of ash.”

  “I think not.”

  “Well then,” Bethany said taking a defiant step forward. “Let the kid go, and let’s talk this out.”

  Something whooshed past Bethany’s shoulder. A bolt implanted itself into the throat of the woman. She blinked her eyes, blood bubbling around the wooden shaft. She moved the dagger to slice Lendra’s throat, but had already let go of the girl’s hair. Lendra tumbled to the ground, sobbing as she did.

  Mayhem exploded around Bethany. She dashed to stand over her collapsed sister buried in the muddy snow. She dug deep within her, readying herself for the torrent of Magic that would envelop them.

  “They’re not Magi!” Bethany screamed. “Kill them!”

  Arrago shouted to Edmund, “Protect the civilians!”

  Bethany saw Arrago and Edmund, plus a few more of their number, stand around the smith apprentice children, who’d been learning their trade by making thousands of nails.

  One of the cloaked figured attacked Bethany and she dodged the blow, and swung her Blessed Blades, easily cutting the man down.

  “Lendra! Get into my tent! Move!” Bethany said and she kicked her sister’s ribs enough to get the girl’s attention. She could not leave her sister, but she needed to fight. “Get up!”

  Another attacker charged Bethany, this time a young girl—Gentle Goddess, she wasn’t old enough to bleed yet—and Bethany tried to weave her blasts of Magic. But the girl lunged clumsily, lifted her hand and whispered a word.

  Unseen force hit Bethany square in the chest. It wasn’t a strong gust of Magic, but it was enough to knock Bethany off her feet and tumble her to the ground. Snow hit Bethany’s flesh, sending icy tendrils down her spine. The girl stepped over Lendra and reached her hand out to Bethany. Bethany tried to scramble, but she slipped on the icy path.

  She couldn’t get up and the girl brandished a knife, about to dive on Bethany, when Lendra screamed.

  It wasn’t like the scream of fear she’d given before. This scream turned Bethany’s skin cold, and her own Power shuddered at the fierceness of her sister’s wrath. Lendra slammed her hands on the ground and stared at the girl, her face turning red as her eyes widened.

  The girl dropped the dagger. Around Bethany, fighting continued as Knights and peasants alike attacked the intruders. But all Bethany could see was the screaming Magi girl and her sister’s blood-soaked face filled with rage.

  “Lendra?” Bethany asked, her voice hoarse.

  The girl screamed in agony, and Lendra screamed alongside her. Around them, the attackers dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, sobbing, shrieking, ripping at their faces. Nausea washed over Bethany. What was happening?

  Lendra clawed at the ground and Bethany saw the look of rage in her sister’s face. She’d had that look before, when others tried to hurt her loved ones.

  “Lendra, stop!” Bethany ordered.

  Lendra didn’t listen. She continued to stare at the girl who’d attacked Bethany.

  “Now! Lendra stop now!” Bethany wasn’t sure what her sister was doing, but if it was what she suspected, Lendra needed to stop at once.

  “Lendra,” came a deep, resonant voice. Kiner stepped into Bethany’s view and said, “Stop.”

  Bethany let out the breath she’d been holding when Lendra blinked, and the tortured souls around them collapsed to the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Love is weakness and it is strength.

  -Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  Lendra lay on her side in the mud and snow, curled in on herself. She sobbed like a child, unintelligible sounds escaping her lips. Bethany glanced at Kiner and reached out to touch her sister, but Lendra recoiled.

  “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her voice panicked. “Don’t touch. Don’t touch. Don’t touch. Get away. DON’T TOUCH ME.”

  Lendra continued to repeat the warning, choking gasps escaping her. She’d tucked her feet inside the folds of her dress and rocked herself.

  Bethany stared at her, unsure what to do. A sick feeling filled her, thinking that her sister might have invaded the minds of the attackers. She might have even invaded the mind of a Magi, albeit an amateur next to some she’d come across. Nonetheless, Lendra could have been tainted.

  “Stop standing around!” Bethany ordered. “Get them into shackles.”

  Knights tore their gaze from Lendra’s sobs and began picking up the remaining, but listless, attackers who were still alive. The young girl who had attacked Bethany, the one who’d caused Lendra to crack, was in no better condition than Lendra. Bethany watched with unease as Jackson picked up the girl, who curled herself against Jackson’s chest and began a hiccupping cry.

  What had Lendra done?

  Footsteps crunched the snow next to her and Arrago appeared in her vision. “You need to get your sister inside. I’ll help Jovan out here.”

  “Lendra,” Bethany said her tone stern, “you have to come inside now.”

  “Don’t touch me,” Lendra gasped and hugged herself closer.

  Bethany gave Arrago a frustrated look and whispered, “She doesn’t want me to touch her.”

  He leaned toward her to whisper back, “Since when do you listen to what others want?” A hint of a smile filled his voice. “Edmund and I will see to the civilians, if that’s all right with you.”

  She nodded. Then added, not taking her eyes off her sister, “Arrago, you did good, getting your men to protect the smiths like that. That showed some quick thinking.”

  “I learned from the best.” He looked back at Lendra and his smile faded. “See to your sister. We can continue our argument later.”

  Bethany swallowed down her pride and said, “Your people are in charge of civilian protection. There are two meetings a day, individual reports before breakfast, and a group one after evening prayers. Be there.”

  He inclined his head and walked off, ordering Edmund and his people to start up-righting equipment, getting injured people to the healers, and assisting the Knights. “All right people,” he shouted, “let’s work with the Knights to get this cleaned up. Jovan? What do you need?”

  Bethany continued to stare at her sister. If it had been her on the ground, she’d want to be left alone. But Lendra was not her. Lendra was a sheltered girl, who was suffering under
the weight of so much loss and grief. A war party was not where she should be, but here she was because Bethany used her to be a diplomat, pretending that Lendra spoke for the Elven Council.

  Bethany had used her sister, and continued to use her. The least she could do was help her. So, Bethany dug deep to when she was a child, and thought about how Allric and Torius had comforted her. They’d scoop her up, even when she didn’t want it, and would hold her until her sobs stopped. She could do that for her sister, even if she had no practice.

  So Bethany knelt down by Lendra and said, “Little one, come with me.”

  “Please no, don’t touch me,” Lendra whimpered.

  “Whatever it was you did, you cannot do to me,” Bethany said in the gentlest voice she could find. With that, Bethany slipped her arms under the crumpled form and, with a grunt, lifted Lendra out of the snow. Lendra continued to protest and cry, but Bethany shushed her until she settled. She walked to her tent, arms trembling under the weight of her sister, but shook her head at the offered looks of those around her. Lendra was her responsibility. The least she could do was look after her.

  “I saw inside them,” Lendra confided through her tears.

  “I know, little one.”

  “I touched her Magic.”

  “It’ll be all right, you’ll see,” Bethany said, not even knowing if that was true. Her own Power seemed to react to her rage and it disintegrated anything in her path. Bethany looked at her sister. “It was because that girl threatened to hurt me, wasn’t it?”

  Lendra began to cry again.

  “Oh, Lendra,” Bethany said and she tightened her grasp around her sister. Kiner opened the tent flap for her and she nodded her thanks. Once inside, she lay Lendra down on the ground. Her arms burned and ached, but Bethany did it as gently as she could. Then, she pulled her bedding from the corner and dragged it to the fire pit. She coaxed Lendra to shift over and get off the damp ground and on to the blankets.