Allegiance (River of Souls 3)

If that meant Veraene’s salvation, how could she argue? She had spent a lifetime and more seeking peace betwe

en the kingdoms. Raul Kosenmark would make a fine and wonderful king to Veraene.

She had choices, too, she told herself. She had earned a place in Duenne’s Court on her own. She had an income that offered independence. If she decided she could not bear … that is, if she hated politics, she could retire to Melnek or Fortezzien, or even to Tiralien. She could leap by magic to some unknown destination. And, and, and, they were not at the end of all their lives. If victory meant a delay, then so be it.

Ilse brushed the tears away with her gloved hand. She stood and paced along the edge of the ravine. Off in the distance, a thin blue ribbon marked Duenne’s presence. She stood, hands clasped behind her back, and stared northward. The horizon swept along until it reached a bump, another, then stuttered upward into the hills. Through that open gap the first outriders of Erythandra’s hordes had appeared. In the hills themselves, Tanja Duhr had chosen to spend her final years.

“My lady.”

“Another hour, Guda Decker, no longer.”

Ilse tilted her head upward, still restless, still uncertain.

It was a day for impulse. She would never have another in this lifetime.

“Ei rûf ane gôtter!” she called out. “Ei rûf ane Anderswar!”

Challenge given, challenge answered.

The air drew tight. A strong green scent flooded her senses. Ilse blinked and Veraene disappeared. She stood on the edge of nothing, while the universe spun below. A stream of bright stars rippled overhead, souls in transit to their new lives.

Her beast crouched opposite, the same mad patchwork of feathers and fur and claws, as though a furious god had created it in retribution for some grave wrong. Its claws clicked against nothing, loud and sharp. Its sex hung heavy and low and full.

I am the creature of your expectations, it said.

She acknowledged the truth of that with a nod. I know that now.

So you are stupid, but not without redemption. Why have you come to me today?

No reason.

You think you can bid me farewell? Order me to begone?

Ilse laughed. Hardly. You and I will have more dealings over the years. No, I am not running away from you, or Duenne, or myself. Not any longer.

Then why did you call me?

Ilse held out a hand. The beast rose on its bent legs and skittered closer. It took all her self-control not to tremble in terror. Expectation or not, this was no tame creature. When it reared to embrace her, she felt a rush of bitter cold, as though Veraene’s winter had invaded the magical plane. She lifted her chin and met the beast’s lips with her own. Its beak was hard and sharp. The next moment, its flesh transformed into an almost human mouth.

My love, it whispered in a low, rasping voice.

No, she replied. My love is a man and not a beast. But I know that you are a necessary part of me.

Its lips peeled back into a grimace, at once terrifying and alluring. Another point to consider, she thought. I begin to think I have underestimated you, the beast said. Farewell, Ilse Zhalina. Farewell until you have need of me again.

It lifted its muzzle and howled. The magic current surged around them. With a sudden jolt, the void disappeared and she crouched on a cold hard surface. Ilse inhaled sharply, smelled mud and wood smoke and the scent of horse. Ordinary scents from an ordinary world. Even now the indication of magic was fading. All was dark, except for the bright blaze of a fire. Overhead, clouds obscured the moon and stars. A thick snow was falling.

She lurched to her feet, but her legs buckled and she collapsed. A woman caught her in her arms.

“My lady! You’re alive.”

Guda dragged Ilse closer to the fire. Snow blew past their campsite in streamers, but the canvas shielded them from the worst. Dimly Ilse became aware of the biting cold, the horses stamping and blowing gouts of steam, and the beckoning warmth of hot tea that Guda held to her lips.

“Drink, my lady.”

Ilse drank, grateful for the warmth. “Thank you. I’m sorry, Guda. Sorry I didn’t warn you.”

Guda was trembling, but she managed a smile. “My lady, you did ask if I were prepared, so did the duke, only I never thought—”