2.
“Still no response from the wolves?” Thalia demanded.
Lileth shook her head. “Not yet.”
Slamming her palm against the door would’ve been extremely satisfying, but Thalia controlled her temper. One did not acquire a reputation as an ice queen without swallowing a lot of indignation. She paced the length of the strategy room—a large chamber with gray stone walls, a cavernous hearth and rugged wood furniture—largely unchanged since her grandfather’s day, except the hostile pieces on the table, told a far more disturbing story than in his time. While Tycho the Pretender’s forces might be temporarily in check after the unexpected turnabout at Hallowell, she had three enemy groups moving on Daruvar. Intel indicated that the first would reach the hold in four days.
She did not wish to begin her rise to power besieged in her own fortress.
“This is beyond discourteous,” she said softly. “We got an insulting reply from the Golgoth Prince and a terse one from the bears. But the wolf lord cannot be bothered to send a single word?”
“I’m certain he has his own challenges,” Lileth answered.
It was easy for her to be placid. If Thalia failed, Lil wouldn’t be beheaded for her father’s treachery, her skull impaled on a pike as an example to others. Though it had been a long time since the last such barbarous display, these were brutal times. She controlled a shiver, but before she could reply, two brisk raps sounded and Gavriel let himself in.
He slid a significant look at Lileth and Thalia nodded. “Please leave us.”
Considering his last report, whatever he had to say probably wouldn’t brighten her day, but he had served too long and too loyally for her to dismiss a rare request for a private audience. Once Lileth had gone, the door closed behind her, Thalia gestured at the grouping of ornate crimson armchairs. “Make yourself comfortable, then talk.”
Gavriel waited for her to arrange herself first and then took the seat opposite. His red eyes burned with the intensity of white-hot embers as he gazed at her. She had learned to pretend she didn’t notice his unbridled fervor, so different from his customary impassivity. Thalia couldn’t ask for a more reliable agent, but his adoration wouldn’t help her consolidate her hold on Eldritch lands.
“You’ve borne enough disrespect,” Gavriel said, his hands tightly laced. “Send word to House Gilbraith. They’re the next strongest and can help you fight off challengers.”
“Ah. You’re concerned about my pride?”
To some degree, it stung being treated with such a profound lack of deference, but outside of official diplomatic events, she couldn’t expect the Animari or the Golgoth to care about her rank. The cats had offered sufficient courtesy, considering the devastation in Ash Valley at the time. If her ego was so fragile that she couldn’t accept that war brought additional friction, then she had no business trying to lead the Eldritch.
Gavriel bit his lip, visibly choking back some other response. “Not as such.”
Not my pride. My feelings. He’s worried I’ll be hurt.
“It’s not time to contact House Gilbraith.” If Thalia married Ruark Gilbraith, she wouldn’t be queen in her own right, and she wasn’t ready to accept less. “I haven’t completely given up hope of an external alliance.”
One that would tip the balance in her favor, ideally.
He stared at her, all seething injury, and that set a pang of guilt through her. In her service, he’d lost so much: brother, best friend, most of his sword mates. She couldn’t offer what he truly wanted, however, and any other comfort would be hollow.
“Do you honestly think outsiders will be of any real help?” he snapped.
This was the sharpest he’d ever been with her, and Thalia flattened her surprise into chilling reproach. “Perhaps I’ve been lax in allowing you to speak your mind too often.”
Wounded, he fell quiet, and she could see him wrestling with the desire to confess. Gavriel was about to place his heart at her feet and if he did, she would lose him entirely. Nobody could stand to continue working closely with the person who stomped all over their private affections. She pretended she didn’t see that warmth about to boil over.
Standing, she folded her arms, staring down at him. “Noxblade, is it your place to question my decisions?”
Gavriel gazed up at her incredulously for a few seconds longer, then he broke eye contact first. “No, my queen.”
“While I appreciate your service, I will decide what is best. If you have nothing further to report, you are dismissed.”
A long tense moment passed before he sighed and stood up. Thalia had feared he might speak from the heart despite her discouragement. It was sad and tiring to pretend that she didn’t know how he felt, but she would never be free to fall in love like a regular person. Her associations would always be weighed like she was purchasing supplies in bulk at the market.
“Unless you need me, I’ll be scouting.”
In his current frame of mind, that probably wasn’t the best choice. Gavriel wanted to fight, and Thalia wasn’t certain he cared if he won. Under those circumstances, she couldn’t let him go.
“Permission denied. Right now, you need to rest and recover from your ordeal in Hallowell.”
His jaw clenched on what she guessed was a protest. “I’m well enough.”
“How long has it been since you slept?” she asked.
“Irrelevant.”
“Since you can’t or won’t answer, my orders stand. Don’t test me, Gavriel. I’m in no mood. Keep poking at me and I’ll assign you to the archives.”
Shocked, he eyed her with fresh wariness. “You wouldn’t.”
“I admit, it would be a waste of your talents, but at least I know you won’t get yourself killed out of grief.”
Gavriel stiffened, shoulders squaring. “I’m mortified that you would entertain that as even a passing thought. Whatever my emotional state, I will never willingly abandon you, my queen.”
That’s part of the problem.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said briskly, “but you still need to sleep and eat. Once Dr. Wyeth has cleared you for duty, you can return to the field.”
She strode over to the door, throwing it open as a clear sign of dismissal. Gavriel left without protest, and Lil stepped in with an inquiring look. “Trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. He thinks we should give up on the idea of an external marital alliance.” While she wasn’t ready to surrender all hope, she had to admit that the prospects were grim.
“Do you have a secondary scheme?”
“Scheme is such an ugly word,” Thalia said, smiling.
“I’ll take that as confirmation. Gavriel would recommend that course even if your prospects were excellent, however. He hates outsiders as much as he lo—”
“Enough,” she cut in.
She left the strategy room, irritated with both Lileth and Gavriel. Lil enjoyed needling her and after everything he’d suffered, Gavriel appeared to be ready to snap. She sympathized with him, and the orders she’d given regarding the leopard king in exile haunted her to this day. Sometimes the doubts grew teeth and chewed at her, whispering that since she’d already allowed her people to be killed at the retreat and permitted her father to unleash so much devastation, maybe she should—
No. Quitting wasn’t an option. It never would be. She hadn’t spent a decade locked away at Riverwind to turn tail now. Thalia passed through Daruvar, her footsteps echoing on the ancient stones. Occasionally she received a scrambled bow by a staffer startled to find her proceeding alone.
In her private quarters, she found messages waiting from two scouts in the field, footage to sort through from patrol drones, and an apology from the bear clan lieutenant. Still nothing from the cursed wolves. Sighing, she replied with orders, spent two hours scanning video, and then answered politely to the overture from the bears. While the marriage wasn’t happening, it served no purpose to burn bridges.
Just then, her phone pinged with an urgent-coded message and Gavriel’s face popped up. “We have movement on the border. Come to the battlements straightaway.”
Daruvar sat proudly atop the cliff known as Widow’s Watch. This was a keep in every sense of the word with defenders on the ramparts, ready for action. Watchmen with silver lights also stood guard in each of the four towers, built at points north, south, east, and west. There would be a courtyard inside, Raff guessed, and a warren of corridors and secret chambers. The place must be drafty as hell, built from gray and crumbling stones no doubt quarried nearby and built by ancestors Thalia could recite by name.
Few modern amenities.
With a sheer, impassable rock face behind, crashing water below, Raff understood why the Eldritch princess had chosen to make her stand here. There was only one approach, and Eldritch scouts had been surveilling his group for several hours, keeping them under close watch. They had been traveling without urgency, breaking the journey into two days, because the roads were old and poorly maintained, jouncing his party until even Mags swore through clacking teeth.
“We’re almost there,” he said, stifling a smile.
“Don’t smirk at me, wolf.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
At the top of the steep incline, the cracked asphalt simply stopped, yielding to loose gravel, which in turn ended in Daruvar’s walls, perforated liberally with artillery slits. There was a single gate of black iron, scored from old battles and rusted where it had been damaged. The Rover juddered to a stop and Raff didn’t wait for the all-clear. If Thalia opened fire, that meant the marriage was off.
He vaulted down and keyed her code into his phone. “The wolf is at your door, Lady Silver. Will you let him in?”
Thalia made a choked noise. The call dropped without the Eldritch woman speaking a word to him, and from somewhere behind him, Mags groaned, almost loud enough to challenge the grind of gears as the gates opened. The doors were wide enough to permit their vehicles to pass inside to the inner bailey, a crisscross of green and pavement. After they parked, the doors shut with a final-sounding clang. Though it was near dusk, no electric lights dispelled the darkness, just the flicker of portable solar lanterns.
“Not my best line?” he asked, grinning at Mags.
“Probably among your five worst.”
“But the gates opened nonetheless. Should we wait for the welcome party?”
“Don’t expect champagne,” she muttered.
Raff hadn’t liked leaving Korin on her own so soon after their losses at Hallowell, but he couldn’t afford to have all wolf leadership away from Pine Ridge at this critical time, and he shouldn’t need his second to complete a courtship mission that was more of a corporate merger. The time he spent here might be tedious, but it should strengthen Pine Ridge for the battles to come.
He milled around with the rest of his small entourage, no more than five minutes before Thalia appeared in black trousers and matching belted jacket. Her hair was twisted in a careless updo and atop that, she wore a winter cap. Currently, she looked more like a spy than a princess, and the idea kindled his imagination.
“Sorry to keep you standing in the cold,” Thalia said. “But unfortunately, I had no notice of your arrival. Perhaps your response was lost in the ether?”
“I wanted to surprise you, but somehow you seem less than delighted. Don’t you enjoy the unexpected, Lady Silver?”
“Not even a little.” Her eyes pierced him, sparks of ire not shown in her buttery voice. “Come inside. I’ve requested that they lay the table for guests, but I fear you may find our hospitality wanting due to lack of preparation.”
She’s testy. This will be fun.
“I did note the lack of dried herbs and wreaths, there’s no quartet caroling best wishes for our health and prosperity, and you haven’t spoken a single ceremonial word in greeting.”
Thalia paused. “Since this isn’t an occasion of state, I didn’t think you would wish to participate in the formal rite of hearth and home.”
In fact, she looked a little surprised that he even knew about it. Raff figured that he probably should be offended, but it was so much fun to bait her that he decided not to pursue the issue. “It’s fine. I know my part by heart, though. I’m not quite the barbarian that you seem to suppose.”
Her fair cheeks pinked, though that might be the icy wind. “This way, then. It won’t do to keep your people standing in the weather.”
Winter’s grasp had been broken, but the full bloom of spring was still weeks away. Since Daruvar stood poised between sea and sky in the foothills, it felt colder here than it did in the well-forested basin that Raff called home. Eventually, these fierce slopes would be covered in yellow and purple wildflowers, but he likely wouldn’t be here that long. A few days, a week at most, and he should be able to melt the ice off Princess Thalia enough to get her to agree to his terms.
The wolves followed her small party across the courtyard and through an open arch that led into a dark corridor. There were niches with broken cables and dead bulbs, stacked crates full of supplies, and a constant parade of Eldritch warriors giving him the death stare. Raff ignored the chill atmosphere, keeping pace until they went up a couple of flights, stepped into another hallway—this one better lit—which opened into a salon decorated in what had surely been the latest style, two hundred years ago.
He took in handwoven rugs in red and gold abstract patterns, furniture that was solidly built as if to survive a shelling, covered with shiny, tasseled cushions. A long table dominated the space, ornate carvings of flowering vines on the legs, and the solar lamps were dim, lending the room a faintly sinister air. The food looked good, and they had been traveling long enough that he appreciated that she wasn’t forcing a lot of officious nonsense on his tired, hungry team.
“Please, be seated,” Thalia invited.
Raff wasted no time in accepting the offer. He couldn’t recall if any of his predecessors had ever dined with the Eldritch outside of the Pax Protocols. History wasn’t his strong point; in fact, he’d hated books, not least because they made him feel stupid and inadequate. At every opportunity, he’d ditched his tutors, skipped out on classes, and spent as much time as he could in the wild, even before he learned to shift.
Once Raff was settled, his small entourage took their places beside him, leaving Thalia to sit opposite. Mags waited until everyone was seated, a move he read as a precaution in case someone tried something. If anyone came at him inside Daruvar, though, it wouldn’t be with violence. The Eldritch were known to be cunning poisoners, so he might never see death coming.
Hopefully I’ll smell it.
The food was simpler than it would’ve been, had he sent word of his intention: steamed vegetables and hastily grilled fish. For the Eldritch, there were also platters of fruit and cheese, raw greens tossed in oil. No fancy sauces or long-simmered nut and bean soups with complex layers of flavor. If memory served, many of the Eldritch were vegetarians or if not, they ate what could be pulled from the sea.
“Will you speak a blessing?” Thalia asked.
The woman to her left, venerable in age if Raff was any judge, curled her mouth slightly in dubious amusement. Does she think we’re heathens? Lord Talfayen had certainly considered the Animari little more than beasts. If such prejudice persisted in his daughter or her people, this alliance was doomed.
“Dear Mother, watch and guard us from harm. Keep us from our enemies and help us walk your path. For the bounty we are about to receive, I bless and thank you.”
“Well-spoken,” the elder Eldritch woman said with a touch of surprise. “You have something of a silver tongue, a rare gift.”
Raff smiled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”