Woes and Hose Page 9

  Dietrich was wondering if he ought to scream. Would anyone hear and rush to his aid? Would his life around the castle get suddenly complicated if he scorned or humiliated this woman? What did she want anyway? Her presence in his chambers was baffling. Alarming.

  “You will not resist,” Enduria said.

  Dick let the words sink in. “What? I will—”

  His attempt to speak was muffled when she suddenly pressed her lips against his. He struggled, unable to breathe. She let him go, and he gasped. She tasted…strange. Unlike any other woman he’d ever been with.

  She tasted…mature.

  “What is happening?”

  “You are being rewarded for your gallantry. Do not resist. I am stronger than you.”

  Dick lifted his injured arm, but she pinned it down with ease. He was too weak to fight her, and frankly, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to. She was far from being attractive, but she wasn’t hideous either. Maybe she did have a fluff of hair above her upper lip, and maybe her chiseled face could batter down siege walls, but she was still a woman, and with enormous breasts at that.

  He all too clearly recalled his forced abstinence. Volkard was quite insistent on the dangers of that.

  A man could die without sex.

  I will do it for Monrich, he promised himself as Enduria undressed. It would not be too difficult. He just needed to close his eyes. It would not be any worse than Amadea, for sure.

  The castellan straddled him. Then, with cat-like speed, she pinched his nipples and twisted hard.

  Dear Saint, save me!

  His half-enthusiastic screams and her laughter went entirely unnoticed by the people in the castle.

  CHAPTER 13

  It Has Only Just Begun

  “I am afraid to sleep alone.”

  —NINE-YEAR-OLD PRINCE COLTON OF OONGLANT, RESPONDING TO HIS FATHER, FIRST SOVEREIGN OF THE SENARCH, ON HIS DECISION TO LEAVE THE BOY IN CHARGE OF THE DEFENSE OF THE LANDS, BEFORE THE FARANC WARS, YEAR 599

  8th Day of the Month of Grass

  Mina had spent her entire life in Eisenstar. She was highly tuned to the rhythm of court life, the atmosphere that pervaded its halls, the little sounds and details that defined its daily routine. Which was why the moment she opened her eyes that morning, she knew something was wrong.

  It was nothing explicit. But it was the tense twitch of the lips on her maids’ faces, the unnatural quiet that filled the place as distinctly as the thousands of background noises that wove the fabric of Eisenstar. The pregnant stillness before the storm. Almost as if her breath had caught in her throat.

  Something bad has happened.

  She dressed hastily, let Anna powder her cheeks, and quickly left her chambers, heading toward the solarium. It wasn’t just Anna or Elsa or Hanne. Everyone looked rather worried.

  She was not surprised to find Father—and Voytech—in there.

  Did Dietrich die? Her heart skipped a beat.

  Father and his Right Man both turned at the same time, and the somber, almost worried looks on their faces made her anxious. She felt guilt gripping her throat before she pushed it away.

  Why should I feel guilty? I’ve done no wrong.

  Except Father may have learned about Sandro, and she was going to pay dearly for that.

  No. It wasn’t that. There was no grief on Father’s face. Silent, calculated rage. Excitement. The kind of face that spoke of war and violence. The things he enjoyed the most. Finding reasons to go against his enemies and subdue them.

  All of this happened in the blink of an eye it took the two men to turn and face her. Wilhelmina cleared her mind of any impure thoughts and machinations. She tried to look concerned. She was concerned.

  “Father?”

  “Good morning, Mina. Why are you here?”

  News come in and out of Eisenstar via the rooftop garden, she wanted to say. “I feel uneasy, strange,” she admitted. She couldn’t lie to Father. He would know.

  Voytech cleared his throat. Behind him, Master Arnulf was oblivious to the exchange, feeding fresh worms to his flizzards. Now that spring had come, and days were turning longer and warmer, the reptiles were becoming more active, almost restless.

  “Strange how?” Father pressed.

  “I woke up, and something did not feel right.”

  He nodded. “You have my blood, my instincts. You are right, Daughter. There’s trouble in Eisenstar. My royal hostage has disappeared.”

  Mina needed a moment to realize who he meant. “The First Citizen’s daughter?”

  Father exhaled loudly, trying to control his ire. “Yes. She cannot be found in the castle. Voytech’s knights have closed the city gates, and they are searching for her in every house, stable and cellar. But it would appear someone had helped Eva escape, and they must be long gone now.”

  Dire news, Mina thought. “And her servant Nicole?”

  Father shook his head. “Still here. It could be a ruse, but I believe she doesn’t know anything. She is terrified. Besides, that girl wouldn’t leave without her friend.”

  Mina thought of Dick and Crispin. Would her brother abandon his servant? He definitely would, without hesitation. “Maybe her father had—”

  “Maybe not.” Father started pacing, thinking. “Would he risk his daughter’s life like that?”

  Would you? Mina wondered. Would Father try to rescue her if she found herself imprisoned in a foreign court?

  “There had been no alarm, no bloodshed. Whoever had spirited Eva away was keenly intimate with the layout of the castle, the routine of the servants, the sentry shifts. Either someone has betrayed me from within, or the enemy has an intricate spy ring in my court, which makes it just as troubling.”

  “If not First Citizen Vincenzo, who else do you suspect, Father?”

  He actually grinned. “Everyone, Daughter. Everyone. This could be an attempt by the Salabians to distract me, force me to look elsewhere while they plot their rebellion. They know I have sent Dietrich to assume the role of the warden, and they know he is a coward, and inexperienced in matters of war. The Koravs had barely escaped defeat at the hands of your betrothed, and they must thirst for revenge, too.”

  “What are you planning, Father?”

  “I must make sure the First Citizen is not allowed any room to maneuver. I will order the ships in Gradt and Manfalke to set sail and assume station outside Enissia’s waters. And I will order Duke Ettore to dispatch his fleet from Hermoli. They will patrol the Inner Sea and defend against any attempts by the Korav seamen to interfere in my war business.”

  He was excited, she noted. He was looking for an excuse to wage war. Destroy the First Citizen. Conquer Korav. King Ulaf’s greatest foe was peace.

  Mina waited for an opportunity to interject. “What about Dietrich, Father?”

  He scowled. “What? Surprisingly, your brother is handling himself well. He fought off a gang of raiders from the outskirts of Ostfort, and he defeated an assassin that tried to kill him. There might be a seedling of true Monrich in his bones after all.”

  Bad news followed by terrible news, Mina thought. Had Sandro failed? What did Dick know? Had he captured the attacker and interrogated him? Could the attempt be traced back to her?

  “All this shows there’s a greater plot against the Drechtoter line, against my reign. Someone tries to murder my heir, and then they undermine my authority by kidnapping my hostage. Dishonorable deeds perpetrated by cowards. Once I expose them, there will be no mercy.”

  Master Arnulf had finished feeding his flizzards, but he still had a handful of wriggling worms pinched between his grubby fingers. He hesitated for a moment, looking confused, then cheerfully popped them into his own mouth. Mina’s stomach bobbed involuntarily.

  “I am glad you have come here, Daughter, because I wanted to speak to you this morning.”

  Mina pushed nausea away and let a tremor of fright settle in instead. “Oh?”

  “I am sending you to the Confederacy.”

  S
he was speechless.

  “The roads are safe and clear again, so you can depart within an eightday. I want you at the constable’s court, where you will remain his honored guest until your wedding. It will have to wait until Dietrich has fathered his first child, at which point I will grant him a leave from his wardenship, so he may travel and attend the ceremony in Neuchtaffel.”

  “Why would—” Mina croaked.

  “You will be my eyes and ears, Mina,” Father cut her, closing his fist meaningfully. “Constable Quentin is extremely popular. Too popular. After last year’s intervention in the Ostland affair, his name is sung in taverns all over Monrich. That would not be a bad thing, as they praise mine, too, but my Builders report the Faranc are showing keen interest in befriending the constable. Against my interests.”

  Mina nodded weakly. Her world was crumbling. Was this how Dick felt when Father had sent him to Sacony? She almost felt sympathy for her sibling right then.

  “Your marriage will forge a powerful alliance between our two realms. But that cannot happen for another summer at least. That gives the Faranc a plenty of opportunities to woo him away from me. We must not allow that to happen, and you must be there, a constant reminder to what he had pledged. Besides, I trust you will use your charm and intelligence to influence his decisions.”

  “But—”

  “I want to know what’s happening in the Shires. You are my most trusted agent.” He paused. “Should anything happen to Dietrich, you will have all the right knowledge and power to assume the throne, Mina. And you will control your husband. Do you understand?”

  Fury clashed with elation. On one hand, she was overjoyed her father would entrust her with so much responsibility. And there, again, he just hinted at her becoming the ruler of the kingdom after him. All the more reasons for Dick to die prematurely. On the other hand, she was bitterly disappointed. Leaving the court would deprive her of her advantage, of her knowledge. She would lose the ability to manipulate. She would be left without Master Arnulf’s whispers of madness and truth.

  She wanted to hate Father, but she could not. He was doing everything for Monrich. If both he and Dick died, the throne would be hers—and Quentin’s through the marriage. She must not let him be anyone’s puppet but hers.

  Resolution replaced helplessness, hope usurped despair. She must not see Father’s decisions as obstacles. They were opportunities. She would get to travel, meet new people, get herself acquainted with the life of one of the more powerful rulers in the world, maybe even manage to guide his hand. That was an immense challenge.

  And perhaps, removed from the watchful eye of Father’s spies, she could scheme Dick’s death more thoroughly.

  “There must be no sexual congress,” Father warned. “You are not to be married until Dick has sired his own heir. Until then, the Drechtoter line is in danger. So, you must tame Quentin until he feeds from the palm of your hand.”

  Mina suddenly realized how angry Father must be over the assassination attempt. It wasn’t just about his son dying. It was about leaving Monrich without a male heir.

  Which means I must try harder, she swore. Keep Father distracted.

  “That is settled then,” he concluded.

  No, Father, it has only just begun, she added in her head, trying to keep a blank, innocent expression on her face. He looked at her weirdly, and she thought she might have revealed herself, but then he nodded his goodbye to the flizzard keeper and left. Voytech followed, sparing Mina a long stare.

  CHAPTER 14

  A Rite of Leadership

  “People will gladly march to slaughter, if there’s a steady hand guiding them.”

  —SMEGLAN PROVERB, TIME UNKNOWN

  14th Day of the Month of Grass

  Dick flexed his hand. It felt raw, and his fingers tingled. The healers had removed the bandage earlier that morning. The stitches still held the pink skin together, but the cuts had healed well. The very first thing he’d done was to close his fist on the wooden grip of a pistol and pull the trigger. The satisfying click had brought a grin to his face. Then he had slithered his hand down his trousers, but the sharp prickling from the coarse thread meant he still couldn’t quite enjoy himself as much as he wanted.

  “Your Royal Highness?”

  Dick raised his head. “Hm?”

  “What do you think of the proposal, Your Highness?”

  I wouldn’t know, I was not listening. But he could not admit that. So, he decided to act like a leader. Reassert his own position while ignoring everyone else. That was what King Ulaf would do. “The Koravs must be punished.”

  Ritter Heimo, the commander of the local garrison, cleared his throat. “But, Your Royal Highness, all signs indicate this incursion was not an activity sanctioned by the Korav baan. It was a sporadic act of brigandage.”

  Dick stared at the man for a long time, trying to make him feel uncomfortable. The ritter lowered his gaze. He was probably ill at ease, especially after last year’s war. He had not conducted himself well in the siege, and he’d needed the help of the Confederacy troops to break free. Even then, he had not led the attack into Salabia.

  “You suggest we let the attack go unpunished? We heard the brigands speak Korav. The weapons recovered from the dead are clearly of Korav design. That’s all the proof we need.” Dick wished he could also blame them for the assassination attempt that had left him incapable of tickling the leek for several eightdays, but they had found nothing on the dead man. Not even a shred of paper or an odd copper coin.

  Dietrich had to admit he was enjoying this. Almost like being a king. He was presiding a war council of his own, discussing important matters. Back home, he would have dreaded the notion of listening to Father’s masters drone about their boring affairs. Now that he held all the power, he found the concept rather intriguing.

  “We have only just conquered Salabia. Their people are restless. They resent the humiliation we have inflicted on them. If they sense Ostfort is weak and will not ride out to retaliate for even the smallest of slights, we could end up with a nation-wide rebellion within a month.”

  Heimo huffed. “Yes. But we need to do so wisely. We—”

  Dick looked away, disinterested. “Your thoughts, Reeve?”

  Reeve Goteleib was leaning on his elbows, head buried low between his palms. He did not seem the least bit interested in the meeting. Reluctantly, he raised his head, brushed his long, golden locks behind his ears, and locked gaze with Dietrich.

  Dick didn’t like the man’s brazen stare. There was too much contempt there. Too much Voytech’s influence. This man knew Dick couldn’t command him, and he didn’t believe Dick deserved respect, because he was not one of the Drechknights.

  I will prove him wrong. “Reeve?” he insisted.

  “We are still only at two thirds nominal strength. I have three banners permanently stationed in Salabia at the present, and another in the Weltspaaz. This means less than half the available forces for any sort of military operation.”

  “We can mobilize the corps,” Dick added, trying to sound knowledgeable.

  “Unfortunately, that will not do,” Enduria Jumpfer cut in, her words as sharp as a sword.

  Almost two eightdays after the…incident, Dick still felt uncomfortable facing the woman. He avoided her, and he tried not to think too much of that day. As far she was concerned, nothing had ever happened, and that worried him even more. Almost shyly, he cast a fleeting look in her direction. She gave him a tight-lipped smile that made the hairs on his neck rise.

  “We need the men in the fields,” she said as if that was the most obvious thing.

  Oh yes. The peasants needed to tend to crops. A brilliant idea struck him. “Then I will ask Duke Ettore to assist. He is bound by the alliance to the Monrich crown. He can provide food. By the time my missive reaches him, the fields in the south of Sacony will be ripe for the first harvest. He can then dispatch grains and livestock by ship, and our men can be conscripted for war.”

&nbs
p; “A very precarious choice, Your Royal Highness,” Herzog Sigismund piped in, trying to sound important. He was wearing a sour expression on his face, ever since having signed over the military of authority of Ostland to Dick.

  A choice worthy of kings. “Moreover, I will…” His heart started hammering as enthusiasm swept him, and random thoughts began firing, like a line of falconets. “…lead the troops myself.”

  “You will?” Reeve Goteleib rasped.

  “You will?” Enduria honked.

  I will? Dick realized his chest was visibly thumping. He was giddy, excited, drunk on glory. What am I doing? This courage thing isn’t for me. I should let other people risk their lives in my honor. It would be most foolish of me to go on a dangerous campaign, suffering horseback riding, rains, cold food, miserable company, and cheap prostitutes. It would be stupid of me to lead a charge into enemy villages, under a barrage of arrows, lead shot and nasty cannonball. It would be, it would be, it would be…

  Kingly.

  Dick fell silent, pondering his own rashness. The encounter with the Korav brigands had emboldened him. He recalled all the praise from the soldiers, from Master Udo himself, and he realized he had never had any praise growing up. Old Fart would only berate him, calling him lazy and cowardly. But these men appreciated him. They still whispered in awe whenever they saw him walk by through the castle corridors, his bandaged arm like an ensign of war.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice thin but proud.

  Leaving Ostfort was the sensible thing to do. He would escape sword practice. He would make it more difficult for any future assassin to track him. He would not have to search for excuses to keep avoiding Amadea, especially when the castellan was around. He would escape the clutches of Enduria Jumpfer. As much as he’d enjoyed the…experience with her, he still found it haunting, embarrassing, terrifying. He didn’t want her to ambush him again.