The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)
The shock Eloana had felt when I told her that Malec was a god had been too vivid to have been fabricated. I’d wanted to ask if that knowledge would’ve changed what they would’ve done with the truth regarding Isbeth, but I didn’t. What was the point? His answer would change nothing.
“Did Eloana tell you about Isbeth and Malec’s son?” I asked, remembering what Eloana had told me.
“She did.” He dragged a hand over his chin. “And I believed her when she said that she was unaware of the child until Alastir told her.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed that. Because they had known that Alastir had located what they believed to be a descendant of Malec’s, and that their advisor—their friend—had left that child, who happened to be me, to be killed by the Craven. They had made peace with such a horrific act because they had believed Alastir was acting in the best interests of Atlantia.
I hadn’t blamed them for what Alastir had done. I still didn’t. I held them responsible for what they knew and what they chose to do with that knowledge—or not do.
“I have a lot of regret,” Valyn said roughly. “So does my wife. I don’t ask for forgiveness. Neither would Eloana.”
That was good to know because I wasn’t sure how I felt about either of them. But forgiveness was never the issue for me. That was easy. Sometimes, too easy. It was understanding and accepting why they did what they did, and I hadn’t had time to come to terms with that. “Then what is it you’re asking for?”
“Nothing.” His gaze met mine again. “I just wanted you to know the truth. I didn’t want that to go unspoken between us.”
I thought there may be another reason that went beyond clearing the air with me. He wanted me to know in case he never saw his sons again. So I would be able to tell them what he’d shared with me.
Silence stretched out, and I didn’t know what to say or do. It was Valyn who broke the quiet. “It’s almost time, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I said. “I expect to see you on the other side of this.”
The smile returned, lessening some of the deep lines. “You will.”
We left the manor then, Emil and a small horde of Crown Guards who seemed to have appeared out of thin air flanking me. Valyn reached out, clasping my shoulder briefly as we neared the armies waiting at the edge of the property, then he walked ahead.
As the soldiers became aware of my arrival, they placed their sword hands to their hearts and bowed. The pressure of their gazes, their trust, weighed down my steps. My entire body hummed, but the salty, nutty flavor of their resolve calmed my nerves. There would be no big speeches—no pomp or display of authority. They knew what to do today.
I joined Kieran at the front, where he stood beside Setti and another horse. Only Emil followed now. The Crown Guards joined the divisions.
The wolven looked over his shoulder. A cool splash of surprise reached me as he turned, watching my approach.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I hate what you’re wearing.”
“Join the club.”
“It’s a club I want no part of.” He looked away, eyeing the former King as he joined Sven and Cyr. “Is everything all right? I saw Valyn enter your room.”
“It is.” I took Setti’s reins from Kieran and then gripped the saddle, hoisting myself onto him. As I got seated, the sight of the wolven general snagged my attention. Lizeth cut through the rows of soldiers, making her way toward the Commander of the Crown Guard. Hisa would remain with Valyn and the generals to ensure that our plans were followed.
Hisa turned from her horse, clasping the back of Lizeth’s head. Her fingers tangled in the blond strands. Concern radiated from her. “Be careful.”
The female wolven pressed her forehead to Hisa’s. “But be brave,” she replied, kissing her.
“Always,” Hisa confirmed.
“But be brave,” I whispered, looking away. I liked that. Be careful but be brave.
And we would all be that today.
Chapter 13
The short journey into the Pinelands surrounding Oak Ambler, beyond the initial rows of bowed trees, was quiet. The only sounds were the snapping of needles and twigs scattered across the road. The dappled sunlight lent a peacefulness, one completely at odds with what was to come.
I sat stiffly in the saddle, holding Setti’s reins just as Casteel had taught me. The armor was thin and formfitting, especially the cuirass covering my chest and back, but not exactly the most comfortable thing I’d ever worn. The armor was a necessity. I may be able to survive most wounds, but I didn’t plan on being unnecessarily weakened, especially if I ended up needing to use the eather.