Treason Keep (22 page)

Cratyn barely managed not to cower under her rage. He glanced at the two shocked dukes, taking a step back from her before he spoke.

“The princess is distraught at the news of her captain’s death,” he explained warily.

Adrina’s anger turned white hot. “
I’m
distraught? You disgusting, impotent, little moron, don’t you realise what you’ve done?”

“In war, hard decisions are necessary, your Highness,” Lord Roache said. “When you’ve had time to consider…”

“Time to consider
what
?” Adrina spat. “You
lost
! And what’s worse, you fed my men into the fray like they were meat being fed into a grinder to do it!”

‘At least they died in honor of the Overlord,” Cratyn told her, rubbing his face where she’d slapped him, her handprint stark against his pale skin.

Adrina turned on him angrily. “They died,
Cretin
, because nobody in this whole damned war camp has anything remotely resembling even a passing acquaintanceship with basic military tactics!”

“We have no need of such worldly skills when the Overlord is with us, your highness,” Lord Roache replied, quite offended. “His hand was guiding the battle.”

“Then your damned Overlord is an even bigger moron than you, Lord Roache. Did you think all it would take to assure victory was some sick spell dreamed up by your priests that forces men to march willingly to their doom?” When they looked at her in surprise, she smiled coldly. “Oh yes, I heard about your priests praying over the troops—and my troops—during the night. And the effect it had on them.”

“Then you must be relieved to know your men died in a state of grace.”

“There was no need for them to die at all!” she yelled at Cratyn furiously.

“Our priests simply helped the men by removing the fear that lurks in the heart of all those facing battle,” Roache explained, stepping forward as if he feared Adrina might attack his prince again.

“You robbed them of the ability to think for themselves!” she shot back. “You took away any chance they had of winning by making them advance into
battle like mindless idiots. Your Overlord didn’t help you, my lord. He was on the side of the Defenders!”

“If we failed today, then it was because it was part of the Overlord’s greater plan,” Cratyn insisted. “It is certainly not a woman’s place to question his will.”

“Then perhaps you might take the time to question my
father’s
will,” she suggested, holding back her rage by sheer willpower.

“Need I remind you, Princess Adrina, your father is supporting this war,” Lord Roache said.

“Forget your stupid war! You’ve killed one of Hablet’s sons! He was planning to legitimise his eldest baseborn son and name him heir. You just murdered the heir to the Fardohnyan throne!”

Oddly, her news seemed to strengthen, rather than frighten Cratyn. “Then it is as the Overlord wills. The heir to the Fardohnyan throne will be of Karien blood. A true believer.”

“
Heir
! What
heir
? That limp dick of yours hasn’t got the lead to produce an heir, has it, Cretin? Is that why you want to go to war so badly? Because a banner is the only thing you’re capable of raising?”

They must have heard the rumours, but both Roache and Palen looked startled by the news. Cratyn, she was viciously pleased to note, was mortified that she had exposed his impotence so brutally. She would have severed his useless organ and marched through the camp with it mounted on a pike at that moment, had someone given her a knife.

“Your Highness! This is not an appropriate place to discuss…”

“Your precious prince’s manhood? Or rather, his
lack
of it. Don’t worry, Lord Palen, the prince’s
impotence is no longer an issue because I am going home to Fardohnya, where I plan to inform my father that his son was
murdered
by a boy prince who defied every law the gods hold sacred by coercing his men in battle. You can forget this damned alliance. There will be no aid, no cannon, no invasion of southern Medalon. You’ll be lucky if Hablet doesn’t invade Karien!”

“Attempting to return to Fardohnya would be extremely foolish, your Highness,” Roache told her, his voice dangerous.

“Don’t you dare think you can threaten me, Lord Roache,” she warned. “I will do as I please. I will escort my brother’s body home where he will be laid to rest on Fardohnyan soil and my father can mourn his loss.”

“Guards!” Roache called. Cratyn looked afraid to take his eyes from her. She couldn’t tell if her threats scared him. Did not care.

“Escort her Highness to her tent,” the Duke ordered as soon as the guards appeared. “She is beside herself with grief and not aware of what she is saying. She is not to leave her quarters unless Prince Cratyn or I expressly order it. Is that clear?”

The guard saluted smartly and waited for Adrina. A small worm of sanity tunnelled through her grief reminding her of where she was. It was only then that she realised the enormity of her error. Roache was a very dangerous man. She had forgotten that in her anger.

“Have a care, your Highness,” he advised. “It would be most unfortunate if we had to advise your father that he had lost a daughter, as well as a son.”

As she was escorted back to her tent, Adrina cursed her temper. With a few careless words she had destroyed months of hard work convincing the Kariens she had converted to their cause. Roache’s threat was very real. Would they tell her father she had died of grief for her lost brother? Killed herself in despair? Blame a disease caught in the camp?

Whatever the reason, Adrina knew she had to leave this place, and the only hope of escape was across the border into Medalon and the waiting army of Defenders.

Adrina stopped before she entered her tent and took a deep breath. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself down and sob uncontrollably for the loss of her brother. The tragedy of his death staggered her. That such a bright light could be extinguished so easily for the sake of Karien ambition was more than she could bear. But there would be time to grieve for Tristan later. Now was a time for clear thinking. She took another deep breath and entered the tent, a plan half-formulated over the last few weeks slowly taking on a firmer shape in her mind.

Tam and Mikel both leapt to their feet as she stepped inside. Tam’s eyes were red and swollen. Mikel looked very uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to deal with grieving grown-ups. For a moment, Adrina wondered if he knew how lucky he was that his brother was still a prisoner with the Hythrun. He wouldn’t grieve tonight as she would.

“Your Highness?” he said expectantly.

Adrina looked over her shoulder rather dramatically and waved the two of them closer. “I have just met with Prince Cratyn,” she said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I have grave news.”

“About the battle?”

“Worse! There is a spy in the camp.”

Tam looked at Adrina suspiciously, but Mikel’s young face was a portrait of shock.

“A
spy
!”

“Sshh!” Adrina urged. “No one must know!” She moved further into the tent, to ensure they were out of hearing of the guards outside. “It is the reason for the massacre today. The Medalonians knew we were coming!” As she watched Mikel lap up every word she uttered, she had time to think that the Medalonians would need to be blind, deaf and completely witless
not
to notice an army the size of the Karien advancing on them. “Prince Cratyn needs my help.
Our
help.”

Mikel straightened his shoulders manfully. “What does he want us to do, your Highness?”

She glanced up at Tam, who was looking at her doubtfully. There would be time to explain things later. “I have to deliver a message to my father, the King of Fardohnya. Prince Cratyn needs my father’s cannon to help him defeat the Medalonians.”

Mikel took her at her word. “But how?”

“We must go to Fardohnya,” she explained in a whisper. “We must leave tonight, while both sides are still in confusion after the battle. We will cross into Medalon and make for the Glass River. We should be able to secure a Fardohnyan trader to see us safely back to Talabar from there.”

“Shall I tell the guards to fetch your horse, your Highness?”

“No! Nobody must know about this, Mikel. As I said, there is a spy in the camp. If they learn of this mission, our lives would be in danger!”

“
Would
be in danger?” Tam asked with a short, bitter laugh. “I’d say they’ll be in danger anyway, traipsing through Medalon in the middle of a war.”

Adrina rolled her eyes. She would never convince Mikel if Tam didn’t support her. “I do this for my prince,” she declared. “I know there is danger, but who else can convince my father to send the cannon? Cratyn needs my help. How can I refuse my husband?”

Mikel laid a comforting hand on hers. “You are so brave, your Highness. But the Overlord will be with us.”

“That gives me such strength,” she agreed sincerely. “Now you must listen to me carefully, Mikel. Prince Cratyn and I have worked out a plan to see us safely over the border, but it needs your assistance. Will you help me?”

“Of course!”

“And you must guard this secret with your life,” she warned. “We do not want the spy to learn of Prince Cratyn’s plans.”

“I cannot believe that any Karien would betray his countrymen,” Mikel protested.

“You have been among the enemy, Mikel. You have seen how they can eat away at a man’s faith. Not all the Overlord’s subjects are as loyal as you.” She ruffled the child’s head fondly. “Now listen carefully. Prince Cratyn pretended to place me under guard, so that the spy will not note my absence. I need you to seek out a Fardohnyan Lanceman named Filip and give him a note from me. He will see that we have horses. The battlefield will be a busy place tonight, with both sides looking for wounded and the camp followers picking over the dead. We should be able to slip through unnoticed. Once we are past the battlefield, Tam and I will pose as Hythrun
court’esa
returning home. Nobody will question us if we are careful.”

“What’s a
court’esa
, your Highness?”

“An entertainer,” Adrina told him blandly. “They are very popular in Hythria and Fardohnya, so nobody should think it odd.”

“I will protect you, anyway,” Mikel assured her. “I’ll not let any harm come to you, your Highness.”

“I know, Mikel. That’s why I insisted Prince Cratyn allow you to accompany me. You have been in the enemy camp and you speak their language. I cannot think of a better protector.” No need to disillusion the child and tell him she spoke Medalonian fluently.

Mikel swelled with pride. “The Overlord will protect us all!”

“I certainly hope so,” she agreed. “Now go and find some warm clothes. It will be cold tonight. I will
write the message for Filip. We must leave as soon as it’s dark.”

As soon as the boy had left the tent, Tam turned on Adrina. “Are you mad!”

“Probably, but it’s preferable to the alternative. Did you pack any of my clothes from home?”

“I packed every stitch you own,” she grumbled unhappily.

“Good. Find us something to wear that would pass as a
court’esa’s
costume. The more bare flesh the better. Once we reach the border, we’ll need to look the part if we are stopped by the Hythrun.”

“And if the Defenders stop us?”

“Then we shall distract them with our feminine wiles,” she said impatiently. “Men are men, Tam. Oh! Make sure you pack my jewellery, too. I’m not leaving it so Cretin can sell it to finance his damned war.”

“How do you intend to get out of here?”

“I’ll wear your clothes and leave the tent on an urgent errand for the princess before the guard changes,” she said. “Once the new guards are on duty, you do the same, making sure they have instructions not to disturb me. We’ll meet Filip and Mikel on the edge of the camp.”

“Do we have to take the boy?”

“I need him to get a message to Filip and he’s been in the Defenders’ camp. We can leave him once we find a boat on the Glass River.”

Tam still looked miserable, but Adrina thought her grief was still too raw for her to object much. She wanted out of here as much as Adrina did.

“We’ll never pass as
court’esa
, your Highness. Even if you could act humble enough to convince
anybody you weren’t a princess born and bred. We have no collars. The Defenders might accept the ruse, but no Hythrun would.”

“We have collars,” she said. “Fetch my jewellery box.”

Tam did as she asked and watched curiously as Adrina unlocked the small, beautifully carved chest. She lifted out the top tray, ignoring the wealth that lay scattered on its velvet surface and reached into the bottom. She lifted out two exquisitely worked necklets, one silver, the other gold. Both were in the shape of snarling wolves, with emerald-set eyes and a fiery line of rubies tracing their twisted spines.

“Where did you get
these
?” Tam breathed in astonishment.

“In Hythria. You remember when I visited Greenharbour? High Prince Lernen attended a slave auction while we were there and invited me along for the sport. It was an awful day. He spent the whole time complaining about the poor quality of Hythrun slaves these days, not even bidding on them, when two of the most beautiful young men I have ever seen were brought to the block. They were identical twins, not more than fifteen, I suppose. Lernen took one look at them and just had to own them. He paid a fortune for them—said he wanted to make a gift of them to someone, probably his nephew.

“But I knew he planned to taste the fruit before he shared it around. Gods, but the Wolfblades are a degenerate lot.

“Anyway, Lernen insisted they ride back to the palace with us in his carriage. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. As we were climbing out of the
carriage back at the palace, one of the boys grabbed my sleeve and begged me for help. They looked innocent enough, but they knew what was in store for them.” Adrina hesitated for a moment, not at all certain she wanted to relate the rest of the tale.

“What did you do?” Tam asked.

“I gave him my knife.”

“Gods! Did Lernen find out?”

Adrina shook her head. “I saw them later that night at dinner, all powdered and primped and ripe for the plucking. They were wearing these collars—and not much else—and Lernen was crowing over them like a child with a couple of new dolls to play with. The next morning they found the boys dead in Lernen’s bed. They slit their wrists and bled to death beside him while he slept.”

“That’s dreadful! Adrina, why didn’t you tell me about this before? If the Hythrun realised it was your knife the boys took to Lernen’s bed, you could have been hanged.”

“I thought of that. I claimed I lost it before dinner.”

“But how did you get the collars?”

“Lernen gave them to me. Once he’d stopped screaming and they’d cleaned the blood off him, he sent for me. I found him sitting in his private courtyard just staring at the collars. They were laying there on the edge of the fountain, still stained with the blood of the boys. Lernen asked me to get rid of them. Told me he never wanted to see them again. I’m not sure why I’ve kept them. Maybe to remind me why I agree with father when he says Hythria should be invaded and the Wolfblade line destroyed.”

“What about his nephew? What was his reaction?”

“I’ve no idea,” she shrugged, fingering the gold collar idly. “I never met him. He probably wasn’t sober enough in the entire month I was there to present himself to me. I was never so glad to leave a place as I was when I left Greenharbour. Until now. Leaving here is going to feel even better.”

Tam picked up the open silver collar and studied it thoughtfully. “Where are the keys?”

“I don’t have them. Once we put them on they’ll have to stay there until we get home and can have them cut off. If I can put up with it, so can you, Tam. I’d happily cross Medalon in chains if it means I never have to lay eyes on Cretin again.”

As if to prove her point she slipped the collar around her neck and heard it faintly snick closed, as the wolf swallowed its tail. The gold was cold against her skin, the sensation odd. She had never wondered if
court’esa
objected to being collared. They were always such beautiful works of art. The more elaborate and expensive the collar, the more the
court’esa
was worth. Tam had been born and bred a slave and her reluctance seemed a little strange. Perhaps being nominally free since arriving in Karien had sparked a little rebellion in her. “Put it on, Tam. We’re running out of time.”

By the time Mikel returned, Adrina had written a short note to Filip and packed everything she planned to take with her. Considering the style to which she was accustomed to travelling, it was a pitiful bundle, but it contained her riding habit, her jewels and the small, sharp Bride’s Blade. She sent the boy on his
way with the note and changed into the costume Tam had selected. It had a thin silver bodice and a split emerald green skirt. It left her midriff bare and pimpled with gooseflesh in the chilly air. Over that she pulled on Tamylan’s high-necked grey woollen tunic, and then Tam’s serviceable woollen cloak. The rest of her belongings she wrapped in the linen bag Tam used to take her laundry to the camp washerwomen. Tam was still dressing when she left the tent with the hood of her cloak pulled up to shadow her face. She hurried past the guards, who barely glanced at her. They had orders to stop the Princess Adrina leaving. Nobody had mentioned a servant hurrying off with her mistress’ laundry.

It was dark by the time she worked her way through the camp to rendezvous with Filip. It had been the most nerve-racking hour of her life as she stumbled over the uneven ground, around groups of soldiers, too bloodied and exhausted to challenge her right to be there. By the time she slipped away from the edge of the camp into the small copse of trees where Filip should be waiting, she was afraid she was going to be sick. Fear was not an emotion Adrina had much experience with, and she prayed fervently to whatever god might be listening that she wouldn’t experience it again for a long, long time.

“Your Highness?” Filip’s voice was a questioning whisper. She followed the sound and was relived to find Mikel waiting with the young Lanceman, his eyes burning with the excitement of his adventure.

“You’ve done well, Lanceman,” she said as she made out the three dark shadows picking at the
sparse dry grass between the trees. “Mikel, go and keep an eye out for Tam.” The boy dutifully scurried off and left her alone with Filip.

“You’re leaving, your Highness?” Filip asked as he led the horses forward. It was hard to tell from his tone whether he approved of the idea or not.

“I’ll not be a party to this monstrous slaughter any longer,” she told him. “Fardohnya has shed enough blood to satisfy the Kariens.”

“And what of the Guard, your Highness? When the Kariens discover you’re missing…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew their fate as well as he did.

“I want you to cross the border tonight. Take every Fardohnyan in the camp with you who is still breathing. If they can’t ride, tie them to their saddles. When you reach Medalon, surrender to the Defenders.”

“
Surrender
?” Filip sounded horrified, but it was hard to make out his expression in the darkness.

“The Defenders will keep you prisoner for a time, but I doubt they’ll harm you. And you’ll eat far better there as a prisoner than as a free man on this side of the border. Tell them your religious beliefs prevent you from taking part in any further fighting. The Defenders have little experience with the gods. They should believe you.”