24.
In the morning, Thalia woke first, as tentative fingers of light crept across the window sill.
For a few seconds, she stared at Raff and then she slipped out of bed silently. If Lileth was here, breakfast would already be cooling outside the door. Her absence ached like a bad tooth, too deep for cutting, and she put on her clothes in the dark. She understood grief; they were old, intimate companions, and Lil wouldn’t thank her for breaking down. If the older woman wouldn’t let her weep over missing her mother, even as a child, then she wouldn’t be gentle about this, either. That strict regimentation had kept Thalia alive, so she couldn’t resent it.
She stepped out into the chill hallway, listening to the guards and workers hurrying to restore order. The fortress was still recovering from the battle and its aftermath. She mourned for those who had chosen Tirael’s side even after Thalia’s return, and wished there was a path to victory not so strewn with the bodies of her people. This war would dangerously deplete their numbers, and it might well take four or five generations to recover, given their low birth rates and difficulty with conception.
Making her way to the kitchen, she keenly felt Lileth’s lack. By now, the older woman should be by her side, apprising her of all the most important issues. Instead, Thalia hunted up her own breakfast, toasted bread and cheese for her, and a dish of hearty stew for Raff.
A young Eldritch stopped her with eyes wide, head down, though she couldn’t stop snatching peeks at Thalia. “Let me carry that for you.”
“It’s all right, I’ve got it. What’s your name?”
“Belen, Your Highness. Did you need something?”
“No, I just wanted to learn a bit more about you.”
The girl shuffled her feet, trying to hide beneath a spill of fair hair. Hers had a golden cast, and it hung past her shoulders in unwashed tangles. “Am I in trouble? Is it because I served Tirael? Nearly everyone did, Your Highness. We had no way of knowing that you were coming back.”
Thalia filed that statement away under regrettable truths. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me while you have my ear?”
“If you’ll pardon my candor, since you seem to be in a listening mood, at my level, it doesn’t matter who sits on the big chair. We just want to be left alone to live and eat. I guess we’re also a bit worried about going to war with the brutes and the beasts, so it’d be good if the high hat could keep us safe from them as well.”
Her face felt frozen. Maybe this was why Lileth always kept a buffer between her and the rest of the staff. Otherwise, she would’ve realized how little anyone else cared about her destiny. Just as Tirael had accused, she wasn’t chosen, fated to lead their people. The All-Mother wasn’t on her side. Perhaps the rest of what Tirael had said was even true; that Thalia was simply a little luckier than most.
“Understood. I’m sure you have other duties. Please tend to them.” It was hard to speak with the weight of that disappointment on her chest.
The worker dodged around Ferith as she ran back into the kitchen. Thalia gauged the Noxblade leader’s mood by her expression, and it was dark indeed. “You have more bad news, I gather?”
“I suppose it could be read that way.”
“Let’s talk in the strategy room.” She left Raff’s breakfast just inside the bedroom and then continued with Ferith, who waited until the door closed behind them.
The chamber smelled musty, a layer of dust on all her maps and books. Lileth would never have permitted such laxness, but she supposed that, overall, she was lucky to be standing here again. Things could have gone the wrong way, and it might be Tirael burning her things while her own head was impaled on a spike above Daruvar, warning others not to reach beyond their grasp.
She sat and gestured Ferith to the opposite chair. “I hope you don’t mind if eat?”
“Go ahead. I’ve had breakfast and I presume you can listen when you chew.”
Thalia smiled. “It’s one of my many talents. Please, go on.”
“There aren’t enough parents voluntarily enrolling their children in the Academy. People are frightened, and they aren’t sure…” Here, Ferith paused.
“About what?”
“If we’re going to win this. They want to wait until the war is over and make sure they’re pledging their children to the right cause.”
That…was terrible news. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and stifled a wave of impotent outrage. This was almost the same as saying outright that Thalia was a pretender, and that Ruark might do a better job leading in her stead. It put her in a completely untenable position because if she allowed them to delay, it read like a tacit admission that their doubts were warranted, and if she conscripted their little ones, then she became an unreasonable despot who didn’t respect parental rights.
“How do we win this?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.
Lileth would have known.
More likely, if Lileth had survived the wedding feast, they never would have lost Daruvar in the first place. She wished she hadn’t sent Gavriel away; he had more experience than Ferith, and at the time, his request to be set free had seemed little enough reward for a lifetime of loyal service. Calling him back would only dishonor her current head of the Noxblades, and there was no guarantee Gavriel could get back in time to help.
Ferith let out a tired sigh. “I don’t know. To be honest, I haven’t slept in days. The prison cell wasn’t precisely restful.”
Remorse overtook her, and she cringed at how selfish her thoughts had been. “Get some rest. You reported the issue to me. I can take it from here.”
While that sounded tremendously capable, inwardly she had no earthly idea how she could resolve the matter without a deep deficit, either of leadership or compassion. She wasn’t even dressed for public appearances, still disheveled and unwashed. Little wonder the kitchen worker had stared at her so.
I’m coming to pieces, losing my polish. Soon nobody will want to follow me.
She silenced that malicious inner voice and headed back to the bedroom, where she found Raff awake and eating stew in bed. Of all things, that shouldn’t anger her, but his insouciance, lolling about the pillows, sparked to life a cranky core she hadn’t known she possessed. It wasn’t fair, and she knew that; he was already doing more than they’d agreed upon, so how could she want more? Yet she did, and there was no altering it.
That made her mad too.
Taking her mood out on him was a terrible idea, though, so she tried to smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a hibernating bear,” he said with a luxuriant stretch. “Do we have some new emergency on deck or can you come back to bed for a while?”
The way he said it rubbed her the wrong way, like the constant stream of problems could’ve been prevented by someone else. Thalia clenched her teeth around a sharp reply, deciding to pick his brain instead. He always claimed he wasn’t clever, but she’d seen ample evidence to the contrary.
“Just a small issue.” Perching on the edge of the bed, she explained the dilemma and finished by asking, “Do you have any suggestions?”
Now that she took a proper look at his expression, well, she’d call that…appalled. Raff narrowed his eyes and used a napkin to blot away the traces of his meal, a delaying tactic that hinted she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.
Never let it be said that I can’t accept difficult truths. Let’s hear it.
“Did you ever think that maybe it’s time to let that kind of thing go? You claim you want to build a brighter future for your people, but part of what makes us shy away from the Eldritch is all the backstabbing and the assassination protocols and the years devoted to studying the best way to kill from the shadows. I’ve heard your children start at five, and that’s fucking crazy, Thalia. What parent wants his child learning about poison when he should be playing with other kids and learning his multiplication tables?”
When Thalia flinched, Raff figured maybe he should’ve pulled his punches a little, worked up to the fact that certain aspects of her society were deeply fucked up. She stiffened up like a poker and her face chilled into the polite expression that drove him crazy. Her hands locked behind her, another sign that she was pissed.
“I should’ve known better than to ask you,” she said coldly.
He stilled, getting the first clue that shit might be more serious than he’d suspected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it seems. You’re deeply ignorant of our culture and you’ve just proven that by measuring our beliefs by your standards. I’ve tried my best not to be judgmental when your ways seem backward to me. It appears the same tolerance is beyond you.”
“I may not be as studied as you, Lady Silver, but that sure sounds like a fancy way of calling me a dumbass.”
“Think whatever you wish,” she snapped.
She stalked out, still light on her feet, even in a fury. Raff got out of bed with a snarl, and instead of going after her, he took a long shower and nearly scoured his skin off trying to calm down. As he stepped out, he was still smoldering, but the spike of anger couldn’t entirely conceal the aching disappointment.
I never thought she’d use that against me.
He’d woken up in such a fantastic mood, too. Good sex helped in pretty much every scenario. While the situation still wasn’t ideal, at least they were making progress toward uniting the Eldritch, had retaken Daruvar, and had rooted out the traitor working against Thalia from the inside. Raff had thought they’d gotten to the point where he could be honest, but her reaction proved that she considered him an interloper, one who had no business commenting on Eldritch issues.
His first instinct was to pack his shit and go back to Pine Ridge, but he had to be better than that, even if he was pissed and didn’t want to be. The agreement didn’t provide for piking off after a quarrel, which meant he had to stay here and be useful. Raff set his jaw and tried to leash his temper. Considering her side might help.
Okay, it’s possible I could’ve been more tactful. She came to me with a problem and I basically told her that her way of life was wrong. I could’ve eased into that, maybe.
Or not gone there at all?
That was the tougher question, and the deep sort that Raff wasn’t used to tackling on his own. He wished Janek or Korin were here to give an opinion. He suspected they’d tell him he was a dumb shit, more bluntly than Thalia. Still, he didn’t think he was wrong about kids deserving to have a damn childhood, but he could’ve handled things better, right?
Yeah, definitely.
Sighing, as Raff got dressed, he privately admitted that he’d fucked up, but then, he wasn’t used to dealing with important shit first thing in the morning. That was Korin’s job, or at least, it had been. Which wasn’t fair, he acknowledged, since he got all the respect and she did all the hard thinking behind the scenes.
Need to change that.
Well, he’d give Thalia some time to cool off and then see if he could charm her with some sweet words and a sincere apology. For now, he needed to find Titus and put his idea into practice. If the great cat agreed, this was one way he could help Thalia, a concrete contribution to her cause.
It was good that he went looking early, because Titus was already in the courtyard, ready to head out, when Raff caught him. “Hold up a minute. I need to talk to you.”
“My job’s done here, wolf. Don’t get sentimental on me.”
“I’m not. This offer is worth your time, though. Will you give me five minutes?”
Titus sighed and tilted his head back, assessing the clouds overhead. “Looks like rain, late in the afternoon. It won’t be cold enough to freeze, so pass that along to your troops and any of the patrols.”
“You’re like a weather wizard,” Raff said.
“Buttering me up won’t get me to do you any favors.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you to take a compliment gracefully?” He meant it as a joke, but Titus’s face darkened, brows pulling together.
“No. I never met the woman. And you’re burning through my patience.”
I am not on my game today.
“Well, let’s get out of the wind, at least. Will you hear me out or not?”
After mumbling a few choice complaints, Titus said, “I wanted to take a last look from the walls before I left anyway. Let’s go.”
The great cat led the way and Raff followed, hoping he could sell this idea. Atop the ramparts, he glimpsed the end of winter. The snow that trapped them in the cabin had melted off, leaving patches of dirty ice and brown ground that would be green again in a month’s time. Hard to picture now, but warmer days were coming.
“Before, you mentioned that there’s a loose network of nomads who hunt and stay off the grid, no alliances to pack or pride.”
“What about it?” Titus sounded belligerent, and when Raff glanced over at him, that impression was reinforced by the big cat’s scowl.
“I’d like to hire you. To keep watch, like you did when Daruvar fell. Your intel could be critical in planning defensive measures and keeping tabs on enemy movements.”
Titus made a dubious noise in the back of his throat. “You want an independent spy network, wolf? That’s damned presumptuous.”
“You said it yourself. While you may not want to live in Ash Valley, if the place falls, if Ruark Gilbraith allies with Tycho Vega, you won’t like what happens next. I’m not asking you to do anything more than you’re already doing.”
“Except for the part where we tell you what we know,” Titus said.
“Okay, one extra step. Teach me about the trail signs you leave for each other.” Raff ignored the other man’s surprised look.
Yeah, I know how you communicate out there, and it’s a low-fi failsafe, no chance the info gets hacked.
“That’s really all you want? A copy of our code and for us to keep on as we were?” The great cat cocked his head, as if to say, tell me another one.
But Raff nodded. “Any edge we can get, we’ll use. I can leave caches of goods and supplies in payment for looping me in. I won’t ask your people to risk themselves, to fight or otherwise get involved. Do we have a deal?”
Titus hesitated. “I wish I could ask the others, but I can’t exactly call them. We only meet up once a year. The rest of the time…”
“It’s signs on trees, I got that. Even if you’re not the leader, per se, you need to make the call, because you’re here, and I could use the help.”
A long sigh slid out of the taller man, and he stared off at the horizon as if he saw a much grimmer picture than rolling hills and winter trees. “Fine. I’ll stop by the library and write down our signs and the zones where we leave word. Beyond that, it’s up to you to find anything of value in the forest.”
“Thanks,” Raff said.
Before Titus could answer, someone came running out of the tower, a small female that he identified as Sky, before he saw her tear-stained face. Her scent was familiar, reminded him of home, and Titus was already backing toward the doorway. Evidently, he wanted no part of a crying woman.
“I’ll keep up my end of the deal,” he muttered, “but this is my cue to leave.”
Whatever Raff might have said back, he lost track when Sky threw herself into his arms, sobbing like her heart would break.
It was going to be one of those days.