Winter Queen (20 page)

Burdin’s next words seemed more for himself than for her. “You’re sure, Ilyenna?

Yes, the villain walks away the hero. And none of you know the difference. Still, she remained silent.

Darrien brushed the blood from his wounded cheek with his free hand. “Come, Ilyenna. Let us return to the Tyran camp.”

She let herself be led away, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking back. Varris was lifting Rone’s head. His eyes blinked open. He glanced around in confusion before his gaze locked with Ilyenna’s. Then the crowd blocked her view.

She still heard Rone’s hoarse shout. “Ilyenna! Curse you!”

Her soul shattered into a thousand pieces.

22. A Promise

Ilyenna passed through the Tyran encampment with her head down. She felt the Tyrans’ eyes on her. Soon, Darrien lifted the flap to the center tent and gestured for her to enter. He stepped in behind her and secured the flap. She felt his gaze on her back, but she didn’t look up. She couldn’t. She was the walking dead.

Finally, Darrien moved. She heard the scrape of wood on wood and the slosh of liquid in a mug. The unmistakable smell of Riesen whiskey burned Ilyenna’s nostrils. She heard him throw it back, swallow, and let out a satisfied “ahh.” The mug hit the table and he sat heavily. “Well, I have to admit this all worked out better than I dared hope.”

“You had doubts?”

He chuckled.
“A game as complicated as this rarely turns out so well.” He was silent for a time. “Really, Ilyenna, you’ve done me many favors—favors I both love and hate you for. You killed my brother. Your father killed mine, allowing me to become the Tyran clan chief long before even I’d planned.”

“You’re not the clan chief. Not anymore.”

Ambition glittered in Darrien’s eyes. “I will be. Believe that.”

She did. She turned and scrutinized him. “He was your father. Have you no sorrow?”

Darrien looked away. “It is unfortunate. But he would’ve died sooner or later.” He sniffed loudly and shrugged. “For me, sooner was better.”

She was going to marry a monster.
A monster who would share her bed and raise her child—Rone’s child. She pressed her lips together. If Darrien even suspected a piece of Rone grew within her, he’d kill it. That meant she had to share his bed. And soon. She shuddered. “What about me? Is sooner better for me, too?”

He studied her dispassionately. “We need children, Ilyenna. You know that.” He poured himself another drink and threw it back, then stood and walked toward her.

Unable to stop herself, she backed away. “Why?”

Darrien
smiled, the same cruel, wicked smile she’d seen him wear before he did something brutal. She backed up until she could go no farther. He took the last few steps slowly, drawing out her fear. His hot whiskey breath blew against her skin. She looked away. He tugged off the cord holding her braid in place, pulled it loose, and ran his hands through her hair.

Had Rone really done the same only a few hours before?

He brushed her neck with the backs of his fingers, then rested his hand around her neck. Just a little squeeze and he’d be choking her. “I’ve always been fascinated by you. You’re so . . . different from the other clanwomen.”

Ilyenna grimaced. She’d always been different. Dark eyed. Thin. She’d always hated being unusual, standing out when she’d wanted nothing more than to fit in. She hated it even more now.

He caressed the skin above the collar of her undershirt. “Not many things pull my attention away from my pursuit of power. And none of them fight the way you did.” He bent down, nuzzling the skin he’d just caressed. “Won’t you fight, Ilyenna? Just a little?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “You cannot hurt one who is already dead.”

He started undoing the laces of her underdress. “Oh, come now. I know the fire still burns in you. Let it flare up again. This won’t be nearly as much fun without it.”

She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she felt salty blood pooling in her mouth.

“Darrien Tyran!” came the shout from outside.

Ressa.
Ilyenna nearly cried out in relief.

Darrien groaned and closed his eyes. “That woman will suffer a most abominable death.” There was a promise in his words that took Ilyenna’s breath away. He backed a step away from her and then another. She sucked in a deep breath and eagerly scooted away from him.

“Yes, Clan Mistress?” he shouted.

“It’s against tradition for an engaged clan mistress to stay with her betrothed’s clan. Since Ilyenna’s clan isn’t present, I offer the Riesens’ hospitality.”

“Traditions,” Darrien growled under his breath.

Without invitation, Ressa entered the tent, letting in a fresh gust of air. Behind her came four of the Riesens’ strongest men. Ilyenna practically ran to the woman’s side.

Ressa took one look at Ilyenna’s loosed hair and the laces undone below her throat and grabbed her like she’d never let go. “I could go speak to Burdin about this.”

Ilyenna recognized Ressa’s words for the threat they were. Apparently, so did Darrien. “Come, there’s no need for that. Ilyenna and I’ve already shared a bed. What’s the difference now?”

Ressa smiled, but it looked more like she was baring her teeth. “Whether or not that is true,” she spat, “Ilyenna deserves to be treated with respect. After what you’ve admitted doing to her, I cannot imagine you would disagree.”

Darrien narrowed his eyes into a glare.
“Careful, Clan Mistress.”

Ressa returned his glare as she backed away, still firmly gripping Ilyenna. “Oh, I’m always careful.”

The moment Ilyenna left the stuffy tent, she sucked in air like she’d never get enough. Outside, twilight was coming on. Oblivious to her plight, the people had already begun their revelry.

Ressa didn’t say a word until they were safely
back in her tent. Her men followed. She guided Ilyenna inside, then walked back out. Through the tent flap, Ilyenna watched her round on the guards. “Darrien Tyran is the most despicable, lying tyrant to ever walk the clan lands,” Ressa explained. “If I hear that any of you have repeated his lies, I’ll have you all strapped so hard you’ll wish Darrien was your clan mistress. Am I clear?”

All four men nodded like little boys eager to escape their wooden-spoon-toting mother.

Ressa grunted. “Good. Now all of you are posted outside this tent. No one gets in or out unless they sleep here or I’ve approved it.” She shooed them away. “One on each side. Go.”

Ilyenna could see the flickering shadows as the men took their positions around the tent. She took no comfort in their presence. They were all just delaying the inevitable.

Ressa rounded on Ilyenna, her fists planted firmly on her hips, but her words were as soft as a lamb’s ear, “You must really love Rone.”

Ilyenna closed her eyes. “How is he?”

The older clan mistress was silent for a long time. “His left lung collapsed.” Ilyenna took a sharp breath and nearly choked on it. “We had to force some whiskey down his throat before he calmed down enough for us to heal him. We used a sea urchin spine to suck most of the air out of his lung cavity so his lung could fill with air again. Then we sewed it shut. When I left him, he was muttering threats to anyone who came near.”

Ilyenna silently pleaded his wound wouldn’t become infected. “Can I see him?”

“Ilyenna—” Ressa hesitated. “He thinks you’ve betrayed him.”

Ilyenna bit the inside of her cheek, but it was so sore she quickly released it. “He would see it that way.” She couldn’t deal with it now. She didn’t have enough strength in her.
“Father?”

“Madder than a caged bear.
But he’s not moving very good, so he’s complying.”

Ilyenna slumped in relief. The men she loved were still alive, despite their own foolishness.

“Dying is a lot easier than living through hell,” Ressa finally said.

“I know,” Ilyenna replied, and even to herself, her voice sounded dead.

“I suppose you do.” Halfway out the tent, Ressa turned. “I’ll try, but I don’t think there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Ilyenna lay down on her blankets. “I know.”

***

“Wake up, Ilyenna. Come on, wake up!” Varris shook her shoulder.

Ilyenna wasn’t sure how she’d managed to fall asleep. Perhaps giving up was easier than fighting after all. Still groggy, she sat up. The sounds outside revealed that the night’s festivities were in full swing.

“I managed to get rid of your guards.” Taking her hand, Varris led her out of the tent. “The Tyrans have announced they’re leaving tomorrow.”

Ilyenna had expected that. “Where are we going?” she asked.

Varris paused, glancing cautiously between tents before hurrying forward. “Rone’s worse.”

Ilyenna stumbled. “How much worse?”

Grim faced, Varris tugged her forward. “His wound is fevered. But it’s not just that. It’s like he’s given up—like he wants to die.”

Numb, Ilyenna allowed herself to be dragged through crowds of revelers, the different colors of the clans weaving around her like a living tapestry. Music, laughter, and mouthwatering smells danced on the salty air. Bright shells winked from the eves, and firelight flickered into sight between houses or tents before disappearing again.

Past the clan house’s open doors, Varris led Ilyenna up the ladders to a bedroom. She nodded toward the closed door. “We’ve only got a few moments.”

Ilyenna hesitated before pulling the latch and slipping inside. Rone lay on the bed, his face as white and shiny as a tallow candle. Breaths wheezed past his lips. He stared at her through bloodshot eyes fogged over with fever.

Ilyenna moved to stand before the bed. Neither she nor Rone spoke for an unbearably long time. Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence anymore and said, “The Tyrans are leaving in the morning. They’ll be taking me with them.”

“It seems you sacrificed yourself for nothing,” Rone rasped.

Ilyenna’s legs lost their strength and she collapsed onto the bed. “Don’t say that.”

Rone’s answering grunt transformed into a violent cough. He held his ribs as pain creased his face.

Ilyenna watched him helplessly, wishing she could take away his pain.

Spent, Rone lay back against the pillows, his eyes closed. There was blood on his teeth, his chin. “I would’ve given my life for you.”

Ilyenna reached for his hand, but he pulled away. “I did give my life for you,” she said softly.

He stared at her until understanding dawned on his face. He lay back against the pillows. “I’m dying, Ilyenna.”

She leaned forward, suddenly terrified. “No! You can’t. You have to try. You have to fight.”

He studied her, anguish lining his face. Then he looked away. “I don’t have anything to live for. Darrien took it all.”

Ilyenna stared at the door, hating that she only had moments to say goodbye. Debate raged within her. Finally, she leaned down and said in her softest whisper, “You have a child to live for.”

Rone’s brows drew together. “A . . . child?”

She took his hand and pressed it to her belly. “Yes.
Yours.”

His gaze flicked from her eyes to her belly and back again. He pulled away, pressed his palms into his eyes, and groaned. “Oh, Ilyenna, what’ve I done to you?”

She rested her hands lightly on his, then pulled them away. “You gave me memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.” She smiled, wanting so badly to give him some sense of peace. “I’ll raise this baby the way it should be raised. Someday, it’ll change the Tyran clan.”

Rone flashed the dangerous gaze she’d seen so many times. “Darrien cannot raise my child, cannot bed the woman I love. I’ll come for you, Ilyenna. I’ll start a war if I have to.”

“The Raiders are still out there,” she said furiously. “None of us are safe. Your clan and mine—” She stuttered to a stop when she realized the Shyle was no longer her clan. The Tyran was. She shook her head. “You are a clan chief. Your first responsibility is to your clan.” Ilyenna opened her eyes and glared at Rone. “Don’t forget that.”

Varris tapped on the door.
“Ilyenna? Please hurry.”

Ilyenna couldn’t bear to look Rone in the eye. “Try–try to forget me,” she said as she stood up.

“Ilyenna, don’t. Don’t do this.”

She bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead. “It’s already been done,” she whispered against his skin. She allowed herself one last look at him before she slipped out the door.

23. The Balance

Ilyenna waited at the edge of the Riesen encampment. Ressa and Gen stood silently at her side. She’d tried to say goodbye to her father, but he’d refused to see her. The few items she had—all gifts from Varris—were rolled into the blanket she held in her arms. She knew what she was going back to, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret her decision to save Rone. Darrien might’ve won, but she’d make the best of it somehow.

She watched as the Tyran wagons slowly began winding away from Cardenholm. One horse broke away from the group and started toward Ilyenna and her friends. Long before she could make out Darrien, she recognized his bay horse. He pulled the animal to a stop in front of her. “It’s time to go, Ilyenna.”

Slowly, she turned to face Ressa and Gen. They’d done so much for her, risked so much. “Thank you. For everything.”

Ressa gripped her in a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry we failed you.”

Ilyenna stepped back. Gen’s gaze held a mixture of anger and sorrow. She smiled at both of them. “You didn’t fail me.”

She turned to Darrien. He reached down to pull her up, and his face stiffened with pain. Ilyenna remembered that he would have been strapped sometime yesterday and a surge of triumph
coursed through her.

Before she could take his hand, Ressa cleared her throat and said, “Of course, we must still honor traditions. My daughter, Varris, will accompany Ilyenna as a chaperone.”

At that moment, a harried-looking Varris bustled out of their tent, a large bundle in her arms.

Darrien’s fists tightened around his reins. “Though the gesture is appreciated, I refuse.”

Ressa smiled haughtily. “I’ve already discussed this with High Chief Burdin, and he agreed that measures must be taken to ensure Ilyenna is treated properly. If Varris reports otherwise, you will permanently lose your position as clan chief.”

Ilyenna felt such a surge of gratitude that she nearly wept.

Darrien surveyed Ressa. “Fine.” He reached toward Ilyenna again.

She wet her lips. “I’d rather walk, if that’s all right?”

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He studied her beneath drawn brows. “Do as you wish. But keep up.”

He turned his horse and kicked him into a lope. Varris squeezed Ilyenna’s hand. “Don’t worry. Mother and I have a plan.”

“What of the steward?” Ilyenna asked.

Ressa blew out. “He’s in Deliaholm, so it will take him a few days to arrive.”

Her hand in Varris’s, Ilyenna left Cardenholm. With every step, she was aware of the growing distance between herself and those she loved. But she couldn’t bring herself to cry. Tears were for the living, not for one marked by the dead.

The
group paused at midday to rest and water the oxen. A woman brought Ilyenna and Varris some dried fish and biscuits. They ate beside the river before moving on with the others. Just before dusk, the group stopped for the night. After the woman gave Ilyenna and Varris some food, she showed them to a wagon they could sleep under.

To Ilyenna’s surprise, Darrien seemed to be keeping his promise. She didn’t see him that night and only caught a few glimpses of him the next day. Just before going to bed on the third night, she saw him laughing with a Tyran girl. He glanced at Ilyenna before quickly turning back to the girl. Ilyenna thought she’d caught a glimpse of what her marriage would be like, women constantly shifting in and out of Darrien’s arms. That was fine with Ilyenna. As long as he was with them, he wouldn’t be with her.

It took nearly a week to reach Tyranholm. Ilyenna was footsore and tired, but in better shape than she’d dared hope for. Breaking into a run as they entered the village, she searched for Narium. But the older clan mistress saw her first.

With a shout, she abandoned her work in the fields and ran toward Ilyenna.
“Rone? Where’s my son?”

“He’s recovering,” Ilyenna shouted back.

Narium gripped her in a fierce hug. “Recovering from what?”

Ilyenna looked away. “The Council sided against the Tyrans.” Other Argon and Shyle women were arriving. Ilyenna noted how much better they looked since Darrien hadn’t been around to beat them. If she wasn’t mistaken, most had even put on some weight. Ilyenna didn’t doubt Metha had something to do with that.

But something was wrong. She counted again. Three women were missing. “Where are Jossa, Wenly, and Kanni?”

None of the women would meet her gaze. Ilyenna turned to Narium.

The woman shook her head. “Kanni died from a fever from her whipping. Wenly replaced you in the clan house. Her skirts caught fire, and she died the next day.”

“And Jossa?”
Ilyenna’s voice felt far away.

Narium folded her hands across her middle. “She made a run for it. She never came back.”

Jossa had been the one to bring Ilyenna the washing at the river the day she ran away. She felt a tremor of pain inside her, but it couldn’t gain purchase within her shattered soul. “She might have made it.”

Larina shook her head.
“I overhead the Tryans talking about it. They caught her.”

Ilyenna didn’t need to ask why they didn’t bring her back. She waited for the pain to assault her, but felt only a hollow emptiness. Three women had died. Ilyenna had saved three others. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Three were slated for death, so when Ilyenna saved them, the Balance had simply taken three others.

She closed her eyes. She should have known something like this would happen. After all, it had happened before, when she’d gone to the dead asking for her father and brother to be spared.

“You’re all free.” She meant to shout it, but it came out as a whisper.

The women sagged in relief. Some of them hugged each other. A few Argon women lifted their skirts and ran to tell the men.

Narium didn’t seem relieved in the least. “What’s Rone recovering from?”

Forcing herself to meet Narium’s gaze, Ilyenna took a deep breath. “Father and Rone demanded a fight to the death. Father killed Undon. Darrien bested Rone but spared his life. He was recovering when last I saw him.”

“Why would Darrien spare my son? He’s been plotting his death for months.”

Ilyenna winced. “I . . . traded.”

“Traded what?”

“My life for his.”

Narium’s eyes went wide. “You came back to this, for Rone?”

Ilyenna didn’t answer.             

Narium stared at her for the longest time. “Such devotion can’t go unrewarded. The Argons will be ever in your debt. I will ever be in your debt. It is a debt we will repay with your freedom.”

Ilyenna could see where Rone got his fierce determination. “No,” she said softly. “I’m afraid Undon and Darrien’s treachery went deeper than simply against the Shyle and Argon clans. He’s in league with the Raiders. Raiders who will be coming over the Shyle Pass.”

Narium pursed her lips. “The Council—”

“Didn’t believe me.” Ilyenna’s cheeks burned in shame. “Because Darrien claimed I was seeking revenge after he violated me. That the Raiders staged the attack on the Tyrans, that it was their doing all along.”

“After all he’s done, they believed him over you?”

Ilyenna shrugged. “He was very convincing.”

“Narium!”

Ilyenna started at the sound of Darrien’s voice. He galloped his horse toward them. He jerked the animal to a halt, then jumped down and faced Narium. “Clan Mistress Narium, Burdin has ordered you home as fast as possible to raise what’s left of your clanmen. You’re to send them to Shyle Pass.” Darrien bent low and said mockingly, “You have my apologies at the death of your husband. It was all such a tragic misunderstanding.”

Narium balled her hands into fists. “This isn’t over.”

Excitement flashed in Darrien’s eyes. “Give my regards to your son. If he’s still alive, that is.”

Narium took a threatening step forward. “You would have done well to remember the difference between an enemy and an ally. Now it’s too late.”

He rested his hand on his axe hilt. “There is no difference.”

Narium’s gaze shifted to Ilyenna. She could see promises in the Argon clan mistresses’s eyes—promises Ilyenna knew she was in no position to keep.

Without another word, Narium turned and walked away. Varris stepped closer and squeezed Ilyenna’s hand reassuringly.

“Where are we to stay?” Ilyenna asked.

“In the women’s house,” Darrien said. He grabbed Ilyenna around the waist and kissed her hard.

Trying to imagine herself somewhere far away, Ilyenna let him.

He pulled away with a look of triumph. “Tradition,” he scoffed with a glare at Varris, “dictates we have a wedding. I’ll come for you tonight.”

Ilyenna watched him go. Wagons full of goods were being unpacked and repacked as preparations were made for war. Several recently freed tiams from the Shyle and Argon clans were gathering their things to leave.

Ilyenna stood motionless in the center of it all—certain that she was drowning all over again.

Tonight, she would marry her enemy.