Allegiance (22 page)

“Oh, sorry,” Steldor rejoined, a complete lack of sincerity in his voice. “How's this? You're dismissed.”

The words, once said, could not be taken back. Whether or not Steldor regretted them was unclear, for his stance remained belligerent, despite the fact that Galen had gone so rigid he appeared to be driving his fingernails into the flesh of his palms. When the tension in the Grand Entry
Hall had become so dense it threatened to crack the walls, Galen exploded.

“You
bastard!
” he yelled, and then, seemingly of its own accord, one of his balled-up fists smashed into Steldor's jaw, knocking the King to the floor.

I sucked in my breath, frantically looking to Cannan, who was surveying the scene with no more than a raised eyebrow. Galen stood over his friend, panting from the effort to control the anger raging within him, while Steldor rubbed his jaw in disbelief, too shocked to formulate a comeback.

“You can't think of anyone but yourself, can you?” Galen stormed, and to my surprise, Steldor stayed down, gaping silently up at him. “You run off when things get a little more complicated than you'd like, and leave us to cover your tracks so the whole
valley
doesn't find out that Hytanica bloody lost its
King
—meanwhile, the Cokyrians are infiltrating our lands to the north, so it becomes entirely possible that you've walked right into their camp. We have men out there still searching for you, men who should be helping to barricade the northern border—to make sure that in a week you still
have
a kingdom to rule. And you have the gall to strut in here and be an ass! I swear, Steldor, if we didn't need someone to sit on that throne, I'd dispatch you with my own hands!”

The two erstwhile companions stared at each other, Galen challenging Steldor to respond, and Steldor too staggered to do so. Eventually, the sergeant threw his hands in the air and marched into his office, slamming the door behind him.

In the silence that followed Galen's departure, I came to appreciate the true meaning of the word
awkward.
Steldor did not rise to his feet, and his eyes were glazed. I felt unneeded, but there was no way for me to make a polished exit. The Palace Guards, bound by duty to remain, searched
the walls, the floor, the ceiling, for anything plausible in which to show an interest, not wanting to be caught gawking at their King. Cannan at last stepped forward to extend a hand to his son, hoisting him to his feet, but Steldor forestalled any intention the captain might have had to speak.

“I'm going to change clothes,” Steldor said, sounding genuinely contrite. “I'll meet you in the Throne Room in half an hour.”

Cannan nodded in approval of his son's change in attitude. Steldor's eyes flashed to me, but he said nothing, simply heading up the stairs. I decided not to follow, instead walking toward the Queen's Drawing Room, certain I was the last person with whom he would be willing to talk.

IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE KING'S RETURN and in light of what we now knew to be the enemy's military strategy, activity around the palace increased drastically. Soldiers came with frequent reports from the field, scouts brought reconnaissance information, and Cannan's battalion commanders became familiar faces. Marcail, the Master at Arms in charge of the City Guard, also came and went more often, for he had been given the task of stockpiling food and supplies in anticipation of a siege.

The location of my drawing room in the East Wing just down the corridor from the Grand Entry turned out to be quite beneficial, as the entryway, due to its proximity to the Throne Room, the Captain of the Guard's office and the Sergeant at Arms' office, had become the hub of all activity. If I left my door open, I could hear when anyone of importance came to deliver information. While Cannan or Galen would usher military personnel into their offices or through the antechamber to meet with Steldor, I was able to catch enough bits and pieces of conversation to have an idea of what was happening. From this I knew that the attacks at
the river were intermittent rather than brutal, designed to keep us engaged while the Cokyrians prepared to launch a full-scale assault from the north. It was ironic that the King's disappearance had alerted us to the enemy's plans, giving us much-needed time to prepare a defense.

Destari, thus far, remained my bodyguard, although I was certain he thought he could be put to better use elsewhere. I suspected Cannan felt the same and that it was Steldor who had insisted the deputy captain remain in this position. I did not know whether to interpret this as a positive sign from my husband, for he certainly knew I felt safer with Destari than with any guard other than London, or as a sign of distrust, for Destari was also one of the guards who knew me well and could, therefore, keep me in line. Regardless of the King's reasoning, I was content with the arrangement, for the deputy captain had long ago given up the notion that the affairs of the kingdom were none of my business, and he willingly kept me abreast of our military campaign.

It was from Destari that I learned of the defenses Cannan had our troops putting in place along our northern border, beginning at the west bank of the Recorah River and extending along the line of the forest. The captain believed the Cokyrians, who did not realize they had lost the element of surprise, would descend the mountain through the river gorge, for that approach would provide the easiest and surest footing. Our best scouts were monitoring the enemy, and when word came that the Cokyrians were on the move, our archers would be deployed along the gorge to slow their advance as much as possible. In addition, Cannan was taking advantage of the fact that our men knew this part of the forest better than anyone, and traps were being rigged along the natural pathways through the trees. While these tactics would weaken the enemy, their real purpose was to buy
time to put in place our primary line of defense. Hytanican soldiers and villagers were felling trees to create a blockade in the area where the enemy would emerge from the gorge. The plan was to contain the Cokyrian troops, and therefore the fighting, to a specific location, pinning them down and preventing them from overrunning our lands. For how long we could hold them in this manner was unclear.

When I asked Destari about the fighting at the river, he explained that our military positions to the east and south had been reinforced, and that nature made these borders easier to defend. The rapidly flowing Recorah River threatened a watery grave, while the primarily open land on the enemy's side provided little cover. The terrain to the east, in particular, was inhospitable, giving way to the Cokyrian Desert, which stretched into the foothills of the mountain range. To the south, the number of troops protecting the only bridge that spanned the Recorah had been substantially increased, and barriers to prevent the Cokyrians from storming it had been put in place. Our men had strapped logs together, with sharpened points aimed at the enemy, and placed them at intervals along the bridge's expanse. Destari also assured me that Cannan would burn the bridge if he felt it was going to fall. When I smelled smoke on the wind one day, the Elite Guard explained that the captain had ordered our archers to set fire to the trees that grew on the far side of the river so that there would be no wood with which the enemy could build rafts.

I was thankful to know of the measures Cannan was taking, but not naïve enough to believe they would ensure our victory. If there were truth in the legend, then Hytanica would crumble under an attack led by Narian; and Narian would lead the attack as long as the enemy had Miranna. It thus appeared to me that the way to save Hytanica was
not by building defenses but by rescuing my sister. Destari was more than a little surprised when I tentatively brought this theory to him. After telling me I had a good head for military strategy, he explained that Cannan, Steldor and the Commander of the Reconnaissance Unit were already trying to formulate a rescue plan, but they were greatly hampered by London's absence, for he was the only Hytanican who had ever been in Cokyri long enough to learn the layout of the city—and live to bring the information home.

It was three days later that the fighting stepped up at the river and the attack commenced from the north. Destari was again my source of information, and he assured me that Cannan's strategy on the new front was working, for the Cokyrians were having difficulty moving through the gorge. He also proudly relayed that our archers were highly effective along the borders we had in common with the river, shooting down at the enemy from wooden platforms that had been constructed in the trees along our banks, as well as showering them with arrows from the ground, where our men used shallow trenches and earthen mounds for protection from return fire. For the first time, I appreciated the ingenuity of those who were planning our defense, and understood the reason that Cannan, then the newly appointed twenty-four-year-old Captain of the Guard, had been credited with beating back the Cokyrians during the last war. Meetings were frequently held in the strategy room involving the captain, the King, the deputy captains, the Sergeant at Arms, the Master at Arms, the Reconnaissance Officer and various battalion commanders.

Steldor and I had not spoken since his return, so in addition to the anxieties of the war, the fact that I had gone to meet with Narian remained unaddressed. While I felt foolhardy and remorseful, I was scared to broach the sub
ject with him. I also wondered if putting the matter to rest weren't more important to me than it was to him, for he was dealing with other, more pressing issues—among them righting his relationship with Galen.

I had briefly experienced life in a kingdom at war when Cokyri had made its initial attempts to reclaim Narian almost a year ago, but though I had suffered under the circumstances along with everyone else, that had been but a taste of what was now at hand. Rarely did any of the men smile these days, more and more women lost husbands, brothers and sons, and I realized, though no one told me, that the battles were becoming much more brutal. The populace did not know, however, what those of us in the palace, in the inner circle, knew. Though none wanted to acknowledge it, rife was the belief that the legend might be true—that this might be the beginning of the end for Hytanica.

It was in the midst of the mounting stress that my mother came to me with a suggestion. She approached me in the drawing room that was now my office but had for thirty years been hers. I sat beside her on the sofa in front of the bay window, uncertain as to what she might want, sadly aware that her honey-blond hair had lost its satiny sheen, and that her blue eyes no longer had the same sparkle.

“It's good to see you, Mother,” I offered, but she stared past me into the East Courtyard, and I wondered if she were seeing something other than the overcast skies, barren trees and withered flowers.

“It has always been within the role of the Queen to bring together the young noblewomen in the kingdom,” my mother said, turning to face me. “The last such event occurred prior to your wedding, so perhaps it is time to consider hosting such a function yourself. I was thinking a tea party would be appropriate.”

My mother had often hosted social functions on the grounds at which she had been gazing, the stateliest of the three courtyards. Its central area, paved with multicolored stones that formed concentric circles around a large two-tiered fountain, had been designed for this purpose and had seen many garden parties, betrothal celebrations, picnics and holiday galas. Nonetheless, the incongruity of a tea party during a time of war did not escape me, and I couldn't help but wonder if her grief had touched her mind. Or perhaps the slight relief engendered by the news of Miranna's humane treatment in Cokyri had lifted her mood to the point where such a normal activity seemed appropriate. As if reading my thoughts, she offered an explanation.

“There is nothing we women can do with respect to the defense of our lands, but we can offer solace in other ways. At a time like this, everyone feels the need to gather friends and loved ones closer.”

In truth, I had not seen any of my friends since before my sister's abduction, and the timing of such an event seemed right, as many of them were now betrothed, a surge that had come only after Steldor's bachelorhood had ended.

“I will consider it, Mother,” I assured her.

She sat for a moment longer, then stood to depart.

“Not all battles are fought with weapons, my dear,” she finished, the melodic lilt that had too long been absent once more in her voice.

I gave my mother's suggestion further thought, realizing that such a gathering would permit me to efficiently deal with the problem of my growing stack of correspondence. Acquaintance after acquaintance had written to me in the aftermath of my sister's disappearance with concern etched behind every word, and yet I had refused face-to-face contact with any of them. As I still had limited desire for social
interaction, a tea party seemed like an appropriate way to handle the situation.

The time felt right for another reason, as well. In the past, during the month of October, the kingdom would have been abuzz over the annual Harvest Festival and Tournament. With the advent of the war, however, no such celebration would take place, making this the first fall I had seen without the popular event.

I arranged invitations to the tea party, writing out a brief apology for my silence and instructing the scribe to add it to the end of each sheet of parchment. I allowed one week's preparation, during which time I tried to convince myself that this social activity would be good for me and everyone else in attendance, for it offered both a welcome distraction and a chance to commiserate.

When the date and time were upon me, I met my guests in the tea room in the western wing, which had been prepared with several small tables draped in white linen tablecloths. The day was sunny but cool, and a fire blazed in the hearth about which most of the guests had congregated. It seemed strange to attend such an event without my sister and to be the hostess in place of my mother. Lanek announced my arrival, and the girls—or women, as I supposed we all were now—curtsied generously to me upon my entrance. I took in their eager faces, marveling at how different they all appeared to me. Of my close friends, Kalem and Reveina were present, both brunettes who had grown slightly taller and had shed the extra weight of their youth. Reveina, in particular, had evolved into a striking beauty, though I noticed some discoloration about her jaw and left eye that resembled bruising. She had married three months ago, while Kalem bore a betrothal ring, though to whom she was promised I did not know.

Tiersia, betrothed to Galen; her younger sister Fiara, married to Steldor's cousin Warrick and quite pregnant; and several other engaged or recently wed young noblewomen were present, as well. I couldn't help but glance at Fiara's swelling belly, trying to envision what it might be like to be with child. I knew the entire kingdom was anticipating the day Steldor and I would announce that there was another heir on the way. Indeed, I supposed, beyond that, everyone would be keen for a glimpse of Steldor's offspring. They would be hoping for a son, to be just like his father and grandfather. My stomach twisted with nervousness, feeling the invisible pressure of the populace's eyes upon me, all the while recalling Steldor's words from our wedding night:
willing or not, you have an obligation as a wife and a queen to bear an heir.
I exiled these troubling thoughts at once, determined to take my life one day at a time, wondering if there would be a point in the future when I would not be so averse to letting Steldor bed me, or would have no choice but to let him do so.

I greeted each of my guests in turn, finally moving to my place at one of the tables. The other young women did likewise, seating themselves only after I had taken up position in the ornate chair that had been provided for me. I had chosen to place Reveina, Kalem and Tiersia at the Queen's table, and as we politely sipped our tea and nibbled on biscuits, I found the former two quite changed since my wedding.

Vivacious Kalem, who had always babbled nonstop about every available—and sometimes unavailable—man in the kingdom, now spoke only of the one she was bound to marry. Once I learned his identity, I could do little to curtail the amused smile that kept appearing on my face for I could not understand how anyone could be so infatuated with Tadark.

Reveina, on the other hand, was bizarrely quiet. She had always been the boldest among our group, leading the conversation and sometimes taking it in directions the rest of us would not have dared. She had been the one who somehow made it acceptable to speak on scandalous topics, and I had fully expected her to offer up an inappropriate retelling of her wedding night experience. But she was silent and submissive, and again I wondered about the purplish-green blemishes that marked her face.

“Yes, and Tadark has so many sweet things planned for our married life,” Kalem was saying, her cheeks pink and her light gray eyes misty. “He's in the Elite Guard, you know, and well-off financially, and he's chosen this beautiful house for us, for our family. He wants to have as many children as we can, you see. He's accustomed to a large family—eight older brothers, he has, can you imagine?”