Prisoner (50 page)

"That crown belongs to his unborn son," Heilwig said.

Von Adolwulf sneered. "You are a calculating whore."

"I am the Saffron General and now Regent until my son comes of age," Heilwig replied. She abruptly removed the dagger from Beraht's throat and kicked him forward into the snow. "Take your Salharan and go. If you ever step foot in Kria again, traitor, your life is forfeit."

Von Adolwulf said nothing, merely cleaned his sword and sheathed it, then strode forward and yanked Beraht to his feet. He nodded once to Heilwig, then turned and led Beraht to his horse, all but throwing him into the saddle before swinging up behind him.

Beraht swayed dizzily, aware of only two things: von Adolwulf had rescued him, and he was, as always, incredibly warm. "Bastard," he muttered as von Adolwulf's heavy cloak settled around them. He heard a rumbling, anger-laced reply, but slipped into unconsciousness before the words could register.

*~*~*

He woke up feeling as though he'd been dragged through the streets and run over by a wagon several times.

Movement caught his eye as he sat up, and Beraht just barely caught sight of a soldier bolting from— He was in a tent; it was surprisingly warm, thanks to the little stove in the center. A large table was across the way, neatly arranged with rolled up maps and sheaves of paper and an inkwell and blotter. A familiar cloak was draped over the back of the chair.

Everything came crashing back to him.

Rescued. He'd been rescued by the bastard Wolf himself. Beraht frowned, unable to pin down his roiling emotions long enough to figure out
why
they were in such turmoil. He felt… unsettled.

Further thought was spared him as an all-too-familiar large, dark form blew into the tent, von Adolwulf's jade green eyes immediately landing upon him. Filled with fury. "Tits of the Winter Princess, I am going to kill you."

Beraht glared right back. "If you're hoping for a thank you, issuing threats is not the best way to see you get one. Stars refuse you, I think I'll just go back to sleep."

"You are not going to sleep until I knock you unconscious for being a complete imbecile," von Adolwulf snapped. "Do you
ever
think, Beraht?"

"I think you're a fine one to call me an imbecile," Beraht retorted. "I think my head hurts too much for me to feel like putting up with you. I think food would be a splendid idea and wine better. I think—"

Von Adolwulf crossed the room like a wolf approaching his prey, grabbed Beraht by the scruff of his shirt, and dragged him bodily from the cot. He held him close, so close that for a moment Beraht had the insane, wild thought that von Adolwulf was going to kiss him—

—Then just as abruptly von Adolwulf let him go. Beraht wobbled precariously on the cot, but a moment later it steadied. He dug his fingers into the blanket and watched von Adolwulf in bemused silence.

Why in the stars had he thought such an absurd thing? Von Adolwulf wouldn't kiss him, not—well, he would if his life depended on it…

Beraht frowned, wondering what was wrong with him that he would think about von Adolwulf and kisses. He shivered and tugged his blankets up, glaring at the man standing over the table. "Why?" he demanded. "I can hardly think Matthias approved of sending out his precious general. You're irreplaceable—to him."

Von Adolwulf spun around sharply and stalked back toward the bed, and Beraht once more felt as though he were prey. "You're a fool!" von Adolwulf snarled, reaching out to grab the front of Beraht's shirt and drag him close again. "The greatest fool I've ever met. What were you thinking, Beraht?"

"Stop saying my name that way!" Beraht snarled, shoving him back and ignoring the waves of nausea that rolled over him. "I'm not going to be sorry for solving your problems with a bit of shadow killing! It worked far better than your stupid negotiations would have."

"Until you got caught," von Adolwulf retorted, letting him go. "Slitting the throats of sleeping men is nothing to commend."

"Nor is mincing words when neither party means what they say," Beraht snarled. "I know how politics work, and I know how empty the words are. Nothing but lies, and it would have ended in killing. This way I only killed a few, you killed the Kaiser, and now we can go home."

Von Adolwulf sighed and stalked back to the table, bracing his hands upon it and staring at something Beraht could not see. "Your eyes are yellow."

Beraht stilled. "Yes."

"They were orange when last I saw you, and if you used the arcen you took from Tawn's corpse, they should be red." He turned around again, solemn and curious, and Beraht noticed suddenly that von Adolwulf looked tired. His clothes fell in a way that said he'd probably been wearing them for at least a couple of days straight—and Beraht had noticed right from the start that von Adolwulf detested being filthy. His hair too was mussed, and for some reason it only made the touches of silver more prominent. In a man as young as von Adolwulf, those silver touches should have looked stranger than they did.

Beraht wondered just how horribly the concentrated cleanser had ruined his mind that his thoughts were so utterly ridiculous. "I was force-fed concentrated cleansers. They flushed the arcen from me and made me sick in the process." He didn't bother to mention that they'd ruined his ability to use arcen.

Von Adolwulf once more approached the bed, and Beraht was struck with the realization that he was
restless.
Finger and thumb grasped his chin and forced his head all the way up. "They're precisely the color they were when I first captured you. I've never known anyone to regress."

"It was concentrated," Beraht said, wondering why his chest felt so tight suddenly. Stars, he wished the bastard would go away and leave him in peace. He wished his heart would stop thudding in his chest, pounding in his ears. "Heavily concentrated. The equivalent of concentrated red arcen."

"No wonder you have been so feverish," von Adolwulf said, and Beraht once more had the wild thought that von Adolwulf was about to—

"Lord General!" A voice said sharply from outside, the words spoken in Illussor.

Von Adolwulf growled low and strode to the tent entrance. "What?"

"We're ready to move out, Lord General."

"What are the final numbers?"

"Half the Verdant, two thirds of the Cobalt."

Von Adolwulf laughed low. "His Highness will not know where to put them all. My instructions were conveyed?"

"Yes, Lord General," the unseen man replied.

"Good. Appoint men to have my things packed. Send Reinhard to me."

"At once, Lord General," the man replied, and von Adolwulf once again turned back to Beraht.

Beraht glared. "You still have not answered my question."

"What question was that?" von Adolwulf asked idly, picking up his cloak and swinging it up and around his shoulders. Beraht could tell from the carefully blank expression on his face that he was being purposely obtuse.

He bit back a retort and simply repeated his question. "Why did you bother saving me?"

Von Adolwulf looked at him, eyes holding something Beraht could not even remotely understand. Then he turned away, headed outside. "Because you are mine," he replied before vanishing.

What in the stars did that mean? He wasn't von Adolwulf's prisoner anymore, and even then he'd never belonged. Snarling, Beraht threw back the covers and slid awkwardly from the cot, scrambling into the clothes he found after a moment's search. His body protested all the quick movements, but Beraht grit his teeth and endured.

Stars refuse him, if he'd let von Adolwulf get away with such strange words and no explanation. But when he got outside, von Adolwulf was barely discernible all the way across camp, surrounded by soldiers and obviously handing out orders.

Heaving a sigh, Beraht turned away in disgust to find food and see if it would stay on his stomach. He'd deal with the stars refused Wolf when they returned home.

That was the third time he'd thought of Illussor as home.

Muttering curses, Beraht gave up thinking of anything but food.

"Spring is most certainly a season of change," Matthias said.

Esta rolled her eyes. "Do stop grinning so, Matthias, people will think you are gloating."

"I
am
gloating," Matthias replied, settling back in his seat and looking quite pleased with himself.

Kalan laughed from where he stood at Matthias' right. "As well he should." He motioned to the crowd filling the ballroom. "We have accomplished a great deal in the past month, and all of it without magic. Even the king has given up protesting."

Esta made a face. "Given up protesting, yes." She sighed and shoved the thoughts away. There was nothing to be done about the king. Even she had not been able to coax him out of his room, not even for this grand occasion.

Not that she could entirely blame him; she'd much rather have been in her room. She skimmed the ballroom for anything that needed attending, smiling faintly to see Iah and Sol conversing with a handful of soldiers—both Illussor and Krian—on the far side.

Though she supposed that wasn't entirely fair. They'd all forsaken Kria to follow the Scarlet Wolf here. They were, even though many were still struggling with the language, Illussor now. If she were to order them to return to Kria, which in a few short hours would be within her power, they would be put to death.

She thoroughly disliked seeing swords everywhere, but they could hardly do without such things now. The underlying power structure of Salhara was crippled, the Seven Star having lost three stars forever. Kria was not faring much better with one general a traitor, two generals and the Kaiser dead—and the next Kaiser still to be born. Both countries would become troublesome again, someday, for she doubted either would feel like peace talks now, but it wouldn't be for many years yet.

Looking across the ballroom, she sought out the two men who were responsible for that and shook her head when she saw them on opposite sides of the room, still ignoring each other. Ever since Beraht had been rescued they'd barely spoken to each other, had barely even tolerated being in the same room. At present, Beraht was trapped in a corner and surrounded by those who were brave enough to quench their curiosity. Those less brave stood close enough to overhear, and more than a few in the surrounding area were giving the corner many an inquisitive glance.

And perhaps a few predatory, Esta noted. Beraht cut a fine figure when dressed in full regalia. His pale hair was only slightly darker than that of a full-blooded Illussor, and his skin fair, though she suspected that with the warming weather it would tan. Beraht did not seem the type to ever stay idly indoors.

To accent his features, draw out the blazing yellow of his eyes, she'd bid the tailors put him in blue with accents of silver at the cuffs and collar. If he wanted company that night, Beraht would find himself with more offers than he could handle. However, she suspected he would not be seeking any company.

She shifted her gaze to seek out the Wolf, unsurprised to find him high above on the balcony overlooking the ballroom. Many soldiers and older lords were gathered there, and Dieter stood in quiet conversation with Reinhard and the Illussor man who held the same position as Reinhard, balancing the power between the still blending halves of the new Illussor army.

Dieter was clearly involved in the conversation, but his eyes were fastened to the ballroom floor. Esta didn't have to look to see where, specifically, his gaze was directed.

Honestly. If men weren't obnoxious and presumptuous, as were Matti and Kalan, they were obtuse and stubborn.

"Won't you sit, Essie?" Matti asked.

Esta sniffed, pointedly turning away from the seat Matti was offering her. "Not yet. I want to dance first."

"Shall I trod upon your toes?" Kalan asked.

"No, you shall not," Esta replied, gathering the skirts of her pale green gown, the light catching on the gold and silver beads decorating it in a delicate pattern of small flowers. "You may stay here and continue to be smug and aggravating with Matti." Laughing, they let her go.

The crowd parted for her as she crossed the ballroom, and she returned the bows and curtseys with nods and murmured greetings. She was going to kill Matti. Yes, it was a good idea… and she'd always known Matti would get his way eventually—longer than he had, the idiot—but this new level of deference was disconcerting.

She smiled in greeting as she reached Beraht, holding out her hand and repressing a fond laugh at the way he awkwardly took it. "I don't suppose you would indulge me with a dance, dear Beraht? I'm afraid my fiancé and his favorite cohort are being quite insufferable."

"If you don't mind having your toes broken," Beraht said with a grimace, but obediently led her through the crowd and to the dance floor. "Do I know this one?"

"You do," Esta said and got them into position, seeing comprehension flood Beraht's face. "Are you enjoying the ball at all?"

Beraht shrugged, but did not reply as the music started up, more focused on the dance steps. Esta left him in peace, following his lead, smiling and nodding at the people who waved or called as they whirled by on the turns. After the first set, Beraht finally spoke again. "It's not what I'm used to, and people keep pestering me with questions." He frowned.