settle.
“Departing in five days’ time. But the princess convinced Jaegar to let her stay for the coronation.”
Princess Brigitta put down her goblet. “Let’s hope his word was given truly. If not, our plans are for naught.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “Yasma, can you take this crown off, please? It’s giving me a headache.”
Yasma stood, deftly removed the jeweled pins, unwound the hair.
The princess sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you.” With her golden hair tumbling down her back, she seemed suddenly much younger. He was reminded that she was barely a year older than Yasma. Eighteen. Scarcely into womanhood.
Princess Brigitta looked exhausted, delicate, easily broken. And yet she’d survived marriage to Duke Rikard. She’d ruined Osgaard’s invasion of Lundegaard. And she’d masterfully deceived her brother today. She was shrewder, stronger, than she looked.
Yasma placed the crown on the floor and sat again, tucking her feet under her. “What did Jaegar say about your brothers?”
Princess Brigitta opened her eyes. “You tell her, Karel. And do sit, please.”
Karel fetched a chair and sat. He explained rapidly. Yasma listened with wide eyes, clutching Princess Brigitta’s hand. When he’d finished, she turned to the princess. “Britta...” Her voice was hushed, awed. “You’re so brave. I could never have done it.”
Princess Brigitta glanced at Karel. Her mouth twisted wryly. “But for Karel, I wouldn’t have.”
He shook his head. You’re braver than you think, princess . “If Jaegar keeps his word about the coronation, we can pull this off.” He didn’t dare think about failure. The consequences were too dreadful. For his family. For Yasma’s family.
“I didn’t ask where the boys are being held,” the princess said. “It seemed best to leave it.”
“I can find that out.”
Princess Brigitta’s mouth twisted again, in anger this time. “How can those armsmen give false witness? Against children!”
“A fat pouch of gold and early retirement,” Karel said. “Like Queen Sigren’s armsmen after her death.” Memory gave him a glimpse of Marten and Edvin’s faces that morning. How hard had it been for Jaegar to bend them to his will? Had it taken threat of death? Or just promise of gold?
“The boys won’t die,” Princess Brigitta said fiercely. “I won’t let it happen!”
“Britta... I’ve thought of where we can get blood from.”
The princess’s face lit with eagerness. “Tell us, Yasma!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
P ETRUS SWAPPED WITH Innis behind one of the tents. He donned Justen’s wet clothes, his clammy boots, his Grooten amulet, his sword. “Has he said anything I should know?”
“He hardly speaks at all, these days. None of us do.”
Petrus tucked the amulet inside his shirt. He glanced around the camp. Rand and Katlen weren’t talking as they prepared dinner, Ebril wasn’t whistling as he gathered wet branches for the fire, Hew and Frane weren’t chatting as they checked the horse’s hooves. We’re all gritting our teeth and getting through each day . “It’s because of Susa,” he said, putting an arm around Innis’s shoulders and pulling her close. “And the rain. And the mud. And the Mother-forsaken ugliness of this place.”
Innis rested her cheek against his chest. “Could you see how much further the woodcutting goes?”
“Forever.”
Innis sighed and pushed away. She squeezed his hand briefly and headed for the campfire.
Petrus watched her for a moment. I love you .
He blew out a breath, adjusted his sodden cloak, and strolled across to watch Prince Harkeld’s magic lesson.
As he approached, a tree stump a good ten yards from the prince flared alight.
“Excellent,” Cora said.
Petrus stood to one side and watched while Prince Harkeld worked to increase his range.
He didn’t like the prince, but to give him credit, the man was working hard. And he was clearly a strong fire mage.
“Departing in five days’ time. But the princess convinced Jaegar to let her stay for the coronation.”
Princess Brigitta put down her goblet. “Let’s hope his word was given truly. If not, our plans are for naught.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “Yasma, can you take this crown off, please? It’s giving me a headache.”
Yasma stood, deftly removed the jeweled pins, unwound the hair.
The princess sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you.” With her golden hair tumbling down her back, she seemed suddenly much younger. He was reminded that she was barely a year older than Yasma. Eighteen. Scarcely into womanhood.
Princess Brigitta looked exhausted, delicate, easily broken. And yet she’d survived marriage to Duke Rikard. She’d ruined Osgaard’s invasion of Lundegaard. And she’d masterfully deceived her brother today. She was shrewder, stronger, than she looked.
Yasma placed the crown on the floor and sat again, tucking her feet under her. “What did Jaegar say about your brothers?”
Princess Brigitta opened her eyes. “You tell her, Karel. And do sit, please.”
Karel fetched a chair and sat. He explained rapidly. Yasma listened with wide eyes, clutching Princess Brigitta’s hand. When he’d finished, she turned to the princess. “Britta...” Her voice was hushed, awed. “You’re so brave. I could never have done it.”
Princess Brigitta glanced at Karel. Her mouth twisted wryly. “But for Karel, I wouldn’t have.”
He shook his head. You’re braver than you think, princess . “If Jaegar keeps his word about the coronation, we can pull this off.” He didn’t dare think about failure. The consequences were too dreadful. For his family. For Yasma’s family.
“I didn’t ask where the boys are being held,” the princess said. “It seemed best to leave it.”
“I can find that out.”
Princess Brigitta’s mouth twisted again, in anger this time. “How can those armsmen give false witness? Against children!”
“A fat pouch of gold and early retirement,” Karel said. “Like Queen Sigren’s armsmen after her death.” Memory gave him a glimpse of Marten and Edvin’s faces that morning. How hard had it been for Jaegar to bend them to his will? Had it taken threat of death? Or just promise of gold?
“The boys won’t die,” Princess Brigitta said fiercely. “I won’t let it happen!”
“Britta... I’ve thought of where we can get blood from.”
The princess’s face lit with eagerness. “Tell us, Yasma!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
P ETRUS SWAPPED WITH Innis behind one of the tents. He donned Justen’s wet clothes, his clammy boots, his Grooten amulet, his sword. “Has he said anything I should know?”
“He hardly speaks at all, these days. None of us do.”
Petrus tucked the amulet inside his shirt. He glanced around the camp. Rand and Katlen weren’t talking as they prepared dinner, Ebril wasn’t whistling as he gathered wet branches for the fire, Hew and Frane weren’t chatting as they checked the horse’s hooves. We’re all gritting our teeth and getting through each day . “It’s because of Susa,” he said, putting an arm around Innis’s shoulders and pulling her close. “And the rain. And the mud. And the Mother-forsaken ugliness of this place.”
Innis rested her cheek against his chest. “Could you see how much further the woodcutting goes?”
“Forever.”
Innis sighed and pushed away. She squeezed his hand briefly and headed for the campfire.
Petrus watched her for a moment. I love you .
He blew out a breath, adjusted his sodden cloak, and strolled across to watch Prince Harkeld’s magic lesson.
As he approached, a tree stump a good ten yards from the prince flared alight.
“Excellent,” Cora said.
Petrus stood to one side and watched while Prince Harkeld worked to increase his range.
He didn’t like the prince, but to give him credit, the man was working hard. And he was clearly a strong fire mage.
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