The Winter King (54 page)

Khamsin gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Summerlea lies frozen beneath a blanket of snow, its armies slaughtered, its people conquered. Where, exactly, is the glory in that? You think all the children orphaned by the war are singing your praises?”

“Summerlea will rise again. Summerlea will be great once more. The world will tremble at our name, as they did for millennia. This sword ensures that.” He patted Blazing’s jeweled hilt.

“Do you even hear yourself, Falcon? Is that what you think Roland’s sword is for? To make the world tremble in fear?”

“Don’t be simple, Storm. To be strong, a king needs to be feared. Nobility is a fine ideal, but real life demands something a bit more . . . practical.”

“That’s the answer of a weak man, not a strong king.”

“So says the woman married to the man who swallowed the essence of a god,” he shot back.

Kham looked away. Love and grief had driven Wynter to make a terrible choice, it was true. But at his core, Wynter was kind. His people loved and respected him. Yes, he could be harsh when the situation warranted, but that harshness was tempered with a determination to do what was right rather than what was most expedient or most profitable. He was a fair man and an excellent king, unswerving in his dedication to the safety and security of Wintercraig and its people. Kham had never loved or respected a man more. Not even Falcon.

“Is there any part of the brother I loved that was real?” she asked bitterly. “Have you ever truly cared about anything or anyone more than your own ambition? What about Elka. You haven’t even asked what happened to her. Was she just a means to an end like everyone else in your life?”

Falcon’s jaw hardened. “Elka betrayed me. She and her sister went to retrieve Roland’s sword, but they never came back.”

“Elka didn’t betray you. Reika drank the Ice Heart, then she turned Elka into an ice thrall and left her there to kill anyone who came near the Ice Heart or Roland’s sword.”

“You’re lying.” But he looked uncertain as he scanned her face.

“No, I’m not. The Elka ice thrall tried to kill me, but I retrieved the sword and killed her instead. She gave me her pendant before she died. If you or your men didn’t take it from me, it’s still around my neck. Her last words were for you. She wanted me to tell you that she loved you.”

He got up and crossed over to where she sat. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, then untied her cape and pushed it aside to bare her throat. The pendant was still there. He pulled it free and regarded it with an inscrutable look. “When she didn’t come to the rendezvous point, I thought she had betrayed me and taken the sword for herself. I was coming to find her when I saw you and your men head into the Temple.” He slid the pendant into his pocket and retied Kham’s cape. “I’m glad I was wrong about that.”

“That’s it? How can you be so cold, so devoid of feeling?”

He gave her a look then, a bit wild-eyed, like an animal in pain. “Don’t push me, Storm,” he warned, and she thought maybe, just maybe, her brother really had loved his Winterlady. That gave her a measure of hope. Maybe she could still reach him, talk sense into him before it was too late.

“Falcon, listen to me. Something bad is happening. Something far worse than another war between Summerlea and Wintercraig. That’s why you’ve got to let me take the sword to Wynter.”

“Don’t worry, Storm. I fully intend to deliver this sword to your husband myself”—he patted the golden hilt at his side—“point first and straight through the heart.”

“I’m serious, Falcon. This isn’t some joke! Didn’t Elka ever tell you about Rorjak the Ice King? And Carnak, the end of the world?”

He rolled his eyes. “Those are just fables, Storm. Stories told to frighten children and keep the worshippers of Wyrn paying their tithes to the priestesses.”

“No they aren’t! Carnak is happening right now. The
garm
—terrible monsters from the remote reaches of the Craig—have been attacking villages. That’s one of the first signs of Rorjak’s return.”

“Is that what all this is about?” He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Storm, Storm, my gullible little sister. The
garm
didn’t attack those villages because the world is going to end. They attacked because my men baited a trail to lead them there.”

“
What?
”

He shrugged. “Technically, it was Elka’s sister’s idea. We needed the temple emptied so Elka could get the sword, and she said the best way to do that was to force your husband to call a Great Hunt.”

“Reika suggested luring the
garm
down to attack the villages?” Kham’s hands curled into fists. That evil bitch had a lot to answer for.

“We met at her father’s estate over a month ago. She was really quite helpful. Doesn’t like you much, though, I have to say.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she muttered. Of course, Reika had helped Falcon. Reika wanted power. When it was clear she was never going to get it through Wynter, she’d found another way. And Falcon was no better. He’d yet again knowingly set innocent men, women, and children up to die as a distraction so he could pursue Roland’s sword.

“Have you always been this heartless, and I just blinded myself to it?” she asked bitterly. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do—anyone you won’t sacrifice—to get your hands on Blazing?”

Her brother’s eye flashed a warning. “No, there isn’t. And you’d be wise to remember that.” He stood up. “I’m going to bed. My men will get you something to eat, and you’re not going to give them any trouble. We’ve still got your little friend with us.” He nodded towards a tree about fifteen yards away. Krysti was slumped over and tied to the tree. “If you value his life—which I know you do—you’ll behave yourself.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Don’t worry, he’s healthy enough. A regular wild child when he gets a chance. Kicked one of my men in the stones and broke another one’s nose on the way here. That’s why they tied him up.”

Good for Krysti, Khamsin wanted to crow. “He’s Craig-bred.”

Falcon snorted. “Untamed little monster, more like. Reminds me of you when you were his age.”

She glared at him. “Tell me, brother, do our sisters approve of what you’re doing? Invading sovereign kingdoms, murdering innocent people, brutalizing little boys?” It would break her heart if her entire family turned out to be as savage and ruthless as her father and brother.

Falcon’s dark eyes flashed, and his jaw thrust out. “This is king’s business, not theirs.”

So no, they didn’t know. Kham sighed in relief. Thank Halla for that, at least.

“Get some rest, Storm. We’ve got a long, hard ride tomorrow, and we won’t be slowing down to see to your comfort.” He headed towards a tent on the far side of the fire.

“Falcon, please, listen to me,” she called after him. “For all our sakes, you’ve got to let me take Blazing to Wynter. Our lives depend on it. The world depends on it.
Please.
”

He just kept walking.

“Falcon!” She jumped up and started after him, only to stop when his men leapt to his defense, swords unsheathed and ready to skewer her.

“You heard the prince,” one of the Summerlanders growled. He had several scars across his face and an ugly light in his muddy brown eyes. “Sit down and shut up, or that little Winterbrat over there will pay for your disobedience.”

Kham glared at the man and subsided into unhappy silence.

She drank the water they brought to her and, thanks to the sword one of the Summerlander’s held at Krysti’s throat, she made no attempt to escape when they freed her hands so she could eat the journey cakes and dried meat they offered. Whatever happened, she would need her strength, and refusing food and drink hurt no one but herself. When she was done eating, they rebound her hands and laid her down with a curt command to sleep, but she remained awake for at least an hour, observing her captors.

Falcon was traveling with two dozen men, half Summerlanders, the other half blue-tattooed Calbernans. A small party, much easier to hide in a country as large as Wintercraig. The Summerlanders either ignored her or watched her with cold malice, but she noticed several of the Calbernans frowning in her direction and whispering amongst each other. She recalled from Tildy’s endless geography lessons that the island-born Calbernans revered women. They didn’t look kindly on anyone who would mistreat them. If she could provoke Falcon or the others into striking her, she just might be able to drive a wedge between the Summerlanders and their Calbernan allies. Kham filed that away for future reference.

Finally, despite the day she’d spent unconscious from the blow to her head, Khamsin fell back to sleep and stayed that way until Falcon came by before sunup to wake her and lead her to a horse.

“I know you’ve learned to ride, so I’m giving you your own horse so you won’t slow us down,” he said. “But your hands remain bound, and you wear the lead cape at all times. And Storm? The boy will ride between you and one of my men, chained to both saddles. Unless you fancy the idea of ripping him in two, I suggest you keep close to my men.”

Anger curled in Khamsin’s belly. Falcon knew her too well. They’d spent too many years together, playing games of war, plotting ways to escape from imaginary captors.

“When did you become such a monster?”

Falcon didn’t even flinch. “I am no monster, merely determined and more familiar with your ways than you would like. The child is unharmed, and will remain so as long as you do as you’re told. Now get on your horse. We’ve a long way to ride.”

True to Falcon’s word, they rode for hours without stopping. When they finally halted to rest and water the horses, the sun had risen, and she did not recognize her surroundings. Kham shook the leaden hood off her head and turned her face up to the sky, trying to pinpoint her location in relation to the sun. They’d traveled west of Gildenheim, towards Konumarr and the Llaskroner Fjord. More than a hundred miles, by her estimate. Well away from the hunting lodge where Wynter was recuperating.

Her only cause for hope was that the deep snow forced Falcon and his men to keep to the roads and established trails through the woods, which improved their chances of being spotted along the way. Wynter had to have scouts. Hopefully, one would cross their path and get word to Wintercraig’s forces.

She’d tried to leave a trail behind her by picking threads from her cuffs and dropping them into the snow. Thanks to the Wintercraig colors she wore, those threads would blend so well into the snow they’d be impossible to spot, but she dropped them anyways in the hopes that Wynter’s wolves might be able to track her scent.

As she dismounted, Falcon’s men lit a small fire and melted snow to water the horses. They didn’t bother cooking food. Instead, they passed around strips of dried meat and fruit. Falcon himself removed the bonds around her wrists so she could eat without aid.

Her arms tingled, little knives of pain throbbing up and down, and she flexed her elbows, wrists, and shoulders. Keeping her tied had also robbed her arms of strength. She could barely hold the bits of jerky and fruit offered to her.

She chewed slowly on the tough strips of meat and watched her brother. He was staring into the fire, lost in thought, and it struck her how much older and wearier he appeared. The charming roguishness that had always lurked at the corners of his mouth and twinkled in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. He seemed so different from the heroic brother she remembered that she had to wonder how much of that brother had ever existed and how much was the product of a lonely child’s desperate dreams of love and family.

“Is it true you sent your men to rape and murder those villagers in Hileje three years ago?” Falcon didn’t look away from the fire. He either hadn’t heard her or was ignoring her. “Falcon?” she prodded. “Did you?”

Now he glanced up. “Is that what you think I did, Khamsin?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I would never have thought you capable of it before, but the last two days have made me realize how little I really know you. Perhaps I never did.”

“We were children. Both of us. We’re not anymore.”

“Did you send them?”

He stared at the piece of jerky in his hand, then threw it in the fire. “Yes, I sent them, but I never ordered them to rape or kill anyone. They were merely supposed to create a distraction that would get Wynter and his men out of Gildenheim.”

“Who did you send?”

“Noble Redfern and his friends.”

“Oh, for Halla’s sake, Falcon.”

“What?” He shot to his feet. At least he could still looked shamed. And defensive. “I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

“You sent a man you knew to be a vile, drunken bastard who found his pleasure raping servant girls in dark hallways. What did you think he and his equally vile cronies were going to do? You knew what sort of atrocities amused them.”

“I needed time to get away. Elka and I needed time to get away.”

“So, in other words, you loosed the dogs without caring who got hurt or how badly. Just like you did with the
garm.
”

His fists clenched. He looked like he wanted to hit something. For a moment, she thought it might be her, but Falcon hadn’t become
that
much like their father yet.

“I didn’t mean for Hillje to happen, all right? I didn’t order it. But I can’t change it. I’m sorry, Storm. I’m sorry it happened. Is that what you want to hear?”

“But that didn’t stop you from killing Wynter’s only brother, did it? Just a boy, barely more than a child, and you shot him in the throat and left him to die in the snow.”

“He shot at me first!”

“You were one of the greatest archers in Summerlea!” she fired back. “You could have wounded him. Slowed him down. You had other choices that didn’t include killing him. Don’t even try to tell me otherwise.” He wasn’t the only one who’d learned from all the time they’d spent together. Yes, she’d idolized him. Yes, she been blind to the ruthlessness inside him. But she remembered his skills quite vividly.

“And he had talents that went beyond his skill with sword and bow,” Falcon retorted. “He was Snow Wolf clan, just like his brother. If I’d left him wounded, he would just have called the wolves to hunt us down. I had the Book of Riddles, Khamsin.
The key to finding Roland’s sword.
I wasn’t going to give that up. And I damn sure wasn’t going to surrender to the king I’d cuckolded and beg for mercy.”