First Lord's Fury (Codex Alera 6)

"Ah," her husband said, and nodded, pacified. "The League, quite. None of my business, then."

Amara cleared her throat. "The point, Your Highness, is that there is indeed one more place where we might make a stand - a better place than here, it could be argued. The geography there will favor a defender heavily."

Aquitaine closed his eyes for a moment. He was very still. Then he opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and nodded. His eyes flicked open, burning with sudden energy. "Very well," he said. "We are about to be assaulted by furies of considerable strength and variety. The fact that they happen to be feral is really rather immaterial. We have neither the time nor the resources to pacify or destroy them. We'll bait them instead. Keep them focused on the Legions instead of upon the Rivan populace." He considered the gathered group pensively. "We'll divide the labor by city, I think. High Lord and Lady Placida, if you would, please summon your liegemen and divide yourselves among both Placidan Legions. Make sure the Legions maintain their integrity."

Aria nodded sharply, once, then she and her husband dismounted and launched themselves skyward.

"Raucus," Aquitaine continued, "you'll take your Citizens to the Antillan Legions, and Phrygius will cover his own troops - and yes, I know the two of you have the most Legions in the field at the moment and that your furycrafters will be spread thin. Lord Cereus, if you would, please gather together the Citizens from Ceres, Forcia, Kalare, and Alera Imperia and divide them to assist the northern Legions."

Phrygius and Antillus both nodded and turned their horses, kicking them into a run as they raced in separate directions, toward their own Legions. Cereus gave Amara a grim nod and launched himself skyward.

Aquitaine gave a series of calm, specific instructions to the Lords remaining, and the men departed in rapid succession.

"Captain Miles," he said, at the last.

"Sir," Miles said.

Sir, Amara noted. Not sire.

"The Crown Legion will proceed to the northeast gates of Riva to escort and safeguard the civilians," Aquitaine said.

"We're ready to continue the fight, sir."

"No, Captain. After last year, your Legion was down to four-fifths of its strength before today's battle was joined. You have your orders."

Sir Miles grimaced but saluted. "Yes, sir."

"And you, Countess Calderon." Aquitaine sighed. "Please be so kind as to carry word to your own liege, Lord Rivus, that it will be his responsibility to shield the population of Riva as he evacuates them to the Calderon Valley. Have him coordinate with your husband to make sure this happens as quickly as possible."

Amara frowned and inclined her head. "And you, Your Highness?"

Aquitaine shrugged languidly. "I would have preferred to drive straight for the Queen as soon as she revealed herself. But given what's happening, she has no need to put in an appearance."

Amara began to ask another question.

"Neither does my ex-wife," Aquitaine said smoothly.

Amara frowned at him. "The Legions. You're asking them to fight wild furies and the vord alike. Fight them while a horde of refugees staggers away. Fight them while they themselves retreat."

"Yes," Aquitaine said.

"They'll be ground to dust."

"You exaggerate the danger, Countess," Aquitaine replied. "Fine sand." Amara just stared at the man. "Was... was that a joke?"

"Apparently not," Aquitaine replied. He turned his face toward the lines again.

His eyes were calm, and veiled...

... and haunted.

Amara followed his gaze and realized that he was staring at the screaming casualties on the ground, the men whose proportion of agony to mortality had run too high to rate immediate attention. She shivered and averted her eyes.

Aquitaine did not.

Amara looked back to the battle itself. The legionares were holding the enemy tide at bay - for now.

"Yes," Aquitaine said quietly. "The Legions will pay a terrible price so that the residents of Riva can flee. But if they do not, the city will fall into chaos, and the civilians will die." He shook his head. "This way, perhaps half of the legionares will survive the retreat. Even odds. If we are forced to defend the city to our last man, they will all die, Countess. For nothing. And they know it." He nodded. "They'll fight."

"And you?" Amara asked, careful to keep her tone completely neutral. "Will you fight?"

"If I reveal my position and identity, the enemy will do everything in their power to kill me in order to disrupt Aleran leadership. I will take the field against the Queen. Or Invidia. For them, it would be worth the risk. Until then... I will be patient."

"That's probably best, Your Highness," Ehren said quietly, stepping forward from his unobtrusive position in the Princeps' background. "You aren't replaceable. If you were seen in action in these circumstances, it's all but certain that Invidia, or the Queen, would appear and make every effort to remove you."

Amara drew in a slow breath and looked past Aquitaine to where Sir Ehren hovered in attendance. The little man's expression was entirely opaque, but he had to realize Aquitaine's situation. His recent storm of new orders had, effectively, stripped him completely of the support of his peers in furycrafted power. The others as strong as he had been dispatched to protect their Legions.

Leaving Aquitaine to stand against his ex-wife or the vord Queen - should they appear - alone.

One gloved fingertip tapped on the hilt of his sword. It was the only thing about him that might have been vaguely construed as a nervous reaction.

"Either one of them is at least a match for you," Amara said quietly. "If they come together, you won't have a chance."

"Not if, Countess," Aquitaine said, thoughtfully. He slid his finger over the hilt of the sword in an unconscious caress. "I believe I've had my fill of 'if 's. When. And we'll see about that. I've never been bested yet." He pursed his lips, staring at the battle, then gave himself a little shake, and said, "Take word to Riva. Then return to me here. I will have more work for you."

Amara arched an eyebrow at him. "You'd trust me enough for that?"

"Trust," he said. "No. Say instead that I have insufficient distrust of you to make me willing to waste your skills." He smiled that razor-thin smile again, and waved a hand vaguely toward the battle lines. "Frankly, I find you a far-less-terrifying enemy than our guests. Now go."