“We expected to see Thorne,” Captain Tenger called out. “Isn’t he here?”
“Thorne lost a challenge for his leadership,” the man facing us responded. “He was too enamored with the idea of Kestra Dallisor as the Infidante. My name is Commander Mindall.”
“Kestra might bear the Dallisor name, but you must have been there the night she became the Infidante,” Tenger said. “She has no Dallisor blood.”
“She has Endrean blood, which is worse,” Mindall said. “Endrick’s blood.”
“She is half Halderian,” I said. “Her father—”
“Yes, I was there, I know!” Mindall set his eyes on Basil. “Who are you?”
“He is Sir Basil, heir to the throne of Reddengrad and soon to be husband to Kestra Dallisor,” Tenger said.
Speaking with more authority than I’d have expected, Basil added, “Our trade agreements have saved the Halderians, supported you through your darkest years. Continue to attack this camp, and all of the privileges you have enjoyed from us will end.”
Mindall laughed. “Some would say that Reddengrad has benefitted more from the labor of Halderians. We don’t need your trade agreements. We intend to reclaim the Scarlet Throne of Antora.”
“Without a king?” Tenger eyed me.
When Mindall failed to respond, from behind him, Gerald said, “That’s a detail yet to be resolved.” He was still looking at me, but this time, I pretended not to notice.
“Anything the Halderians want, you need Kestra alive to get it,” Tenger said.
“No, Captain, the opposite is true. We need a new Infidante, one we trust to wield the Blade for the good of Halderians.”
The only way they’d get a new Infidante was with Kestra’s death. If we told them she had no memory of her quest, they’d feel more certain they were doing the right thing. If we told them the Olden Blade was missing again, and that only Basil knew where it was, they’d wring the information from him in an instant.
“And what if we don’t give Kestra up?” Tenger asked. “I’ve grown fond of the girl. If you killed her, I’d feel very put out.”
“If you don’t hand her over to us within the next five minutes, your entire camp will feel ‘put out.’” Mindall waved his arm forward, and a man to his right lifted a square metal box with hammered wires leading toward camp, obviously suggesting that more explosives were already in place.
“Why would we agree to this?” Basil asked. “To send her to her death?”
Mindall didn’t so much as blink. “With apologies, as she is your future bride, what about our agreement that anyone with Endrean blood must die? Surely you can see the risk of putting the Olden Blade into the hands of any Endrean. If she succeeds, we’ll replace one tyrant with another.”
“Perhaps you’re
right.” Tenger looked at me with a slight shift in his eyes, a silent order I well understood. Aloud, he said, “Simon, go get Kestra.”
“Sir! They intend to—”
“They intend to destroy this camp. The Coracks and Halderians are allies, and until they have a legitimate king to say otherwise, we will do as they ask.” I started to protest again, but Tenger added, “Basil, go with him. Make sure he does exactly as I ordered.”
“My daughter, Harlyn, will come as well,” Mindall said, and the girl who had been watching me earlier slid from her horse. She was tall and lean with wide brows, curly black hair cut short, and she seemed comfortable with the blade at her side.
I twisted my face into a grimace, but nodded curtly at her and Basil to follow me. I wasn’t particularly comforted by being in either one’s company.
As we walked, my mind raced for what to do. Under no circumstances would I hand Kestra over to the Halderians, yet Harlyn was clearly here to ensure otherwise. Unless she struck first, it wasn’t in me to harm this girl, and if we attempted to take her hostage, we risked the explosives collapsing the Lonetree caves.
Basil looked over at me, his mouth pressed tight and his eyes full of questions I couldn’t answer. But he was my best solution, if he had enough brains to decode the conversation we were about to have.
“Basil will take you to Kestra,” I said, “although she’s still in our prison cells at the far end of the camp. I’ll get a horse ready for her to ride out with you.”
Harlyn chuckled. “What I’m hearing is that Basil will distract me for a few minutes, possibly even try to lock me in the cells, while you help Kestra escape.”
I cursed under my breath while Basil made his best attempt to negotiate. “If your people do anything to harm Kestra, you will incur the wrath of Reddengrad—”
“The wrath of Reddengrad—what is that?” She poked my arm with her elbow as if we were sharing a joke. “We use pole weapons like yours to practice for our real weapons.” Before either of us could argue that, she locked one arm in mine and the other in Basil’s and said, “Listen carefully, because you’re both laughably transparent. The Halderians are split over what to do about the Infidante. Half want to give her a chance. Half want her dead. My father is with that second half … but I am not, so here’s what you’re going to do. When we’re out of sight, I’ll give Simon my sword to temporarily hold me hostage while Basil gets his betrothed as far from this camp as possible. Then release me and I’ll go crying back to my father about how she disappeared on her own when she saw us coming. I’ll claim to have fought and injured Basil here at camp … despite his fearsome pole weapon. Simon, you’ll return with me and give the same story. Agreed?”