A day before the homing pigeon from Longstreet’s crew arrived, General Stark had sent a bulletin advising him to “create every opportunity to seize munitions from the enemy.” Like anyone had to tell him that.
“Remember the tactics we discussed,” his father said, his focus so singular he didn’t seem to notice the chaos surrounding them. Lord Thorne Calder might be old, but he maintained his strength and wits like a man half his age. Roderic had no doubt his father would rather he be the one to lead the army into battle.
“Yes, I remember, and I’m prepared to make on-the-fly adjustments if necessary.”
“Your smaller force should make better time,” Thorne calculated. “If you beat them to Bethel Springs, blow up the Highway 45 bridges and force them to march through the wetlands. Their trucks will bog down, horses balk, and infantry sink to their hips in mud. That’s when you’ll spring your trap. If Longstreet commits his troops to meet you there, he can lie in wait on the westside and you on the east. Set snares. Put your big guns and sharpshooters on the ridges. You’ll have them like fish in a barrel.”
“I remember the plan, Father.” Roderic held in a groan. They’d been over this forty times. “A lot rides on who gets there first, how much time we have, and if Longstreet meets me. I haven’t received word yet, but we must leave at once. I can’t wait for a pigeon from Marchland.”
“No, you can’t. Haste is of the essence.”
“Be careful, Rod,” Bernard bade him. “You can’t die and leave me as Father’s heir. I’m enjoying life too much to become burdened with politics and responsibility.” Although he punched out the words in a joking manner, Roderic knew his brother was being serious. He’d already talked it over with the lord, and they agreed his daughter, Marenne, was much better suited should Roderic perish.
“General Calder, sir!” The corporal skidded to a halt, snapping his hand up in salute. “We found just the thing—a Humvee.” He motioned to a light-armored vehicle painted a nondescript grayish tan rolling slowly toward them. “I thought you’d like Sergeant Brant to be your driver, as you’ve used her before. Also, being from Tupelo, she knows the area. But I can get someone else if you prefer, sir.”
If he hadn’t been so burdened with the gravity of their position, Roderic would have found the corporal entertaining. “Sergeant Brant’s proven. I’ll take her. Lieutenant Rushing, pack the maps, my gear, and yours in the Humvee. You’ll act as my adjunct.”
“Yes, sir!” he replied with gusto, and trotted off to obey.
“All right, Father, Bernard, it’s time.” He hugged his little brother, gripped his father’s hand firmly. In an unexpected gesture, the lord pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Win, lose, or draw, I’m proud of you, son.” Thorne stepped back, eyes glinting, grin fierce. “But you’re going to win.”
Chapter forty-eight
Staring Down the Barrel
Twelve days after leaving Aurora, aboard the Halcyon
Lark sat cross-legged in her favorite spot on the forward deck, sun on her skin, wind in her face, smiling delightedly at the dolphins riding the bow. Skye had removed her stitches. Though pain stabbed when she moved wrong, Lark felt stronger—thanks mostly to Azaleen’s tender attention. The woman found fresh ways to surprise her every day. Who’d guess a queen knew the best way to prepare salmon or could hide a winning poker hand behind an expressionless façade? Lark dared not engage Azaleen in chess; she left that daunting duty to Luke while she watched, hoping to learn the nuances of the game.
As time progressed, she’d noticed Azaleen smile more, brood less, and blossom into a fully realized woman. Oh, she could spin her manner on a dime, the calculating ice queen bursting forth to issue orders or make declarations on a topic in which she was knowledgeable. Still, when the lights went out, Lark lay in her warm, caring embrace, sweet kisses trailing along her neck, gentle fingers sending shivers through her. She spent her days conversing withAzaleen—alone or in a group—all the while anticipating the comfort and arousal each night would bring. Azaleen had hinted at what she wished to do to Lark in the privacy of her bedroom. Lark had ideas of what she longed to do to Azaleen too.
Watching the dolphins dance, diving and surfacing in the bow wave, escorting their vessel like kindly guardians sent by Poseidon to lead them home in safety, Lark felt as if she had been whisked into a fairy-book land. Of all the surreal twists, a stunning, powerful queen had chosen her.And it turns out that under the icy shell lies a kind heart.
“They’re here!” Azaleen padded up in sensible deck shoes and settled beside her, gazing with wonder at the graceful marine mammals. There were five—two on each side, and one directly in front.
“Special, huh?” Lark glanced over to catch Azaleen’s gaze, entranced by her all over again. “Caelen would say this was jacked.”
Azaleen laughed, a bittersweet cloud encompassing her features. “I miss my boys so much. But any day now we’ll be home, and I can hug them, know that they’re safe. God, I didn’t know I’d ache like this. I’ve never been away from them for so long before.”
Lark extended a hand, took Azaleen’s with an understanding squeeze.
“I know Eldrin is sixteen and fancies himself a man, but he isn’t. And Caelen … they grow up too fast.”
“This is the longest I’ve been away from my family too,” Lark admitted. “Leif and Gramma can take care of themselves, but Bryn will think I’ve forgotten her.”
Azaleen’s brow wrinkled. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Well, she’s adopted, but, yeah, she’s my little sister.” She’d never actually called the foundling that out loud, but it felt right. In every way that mattered, Bryn was her little sister.
“New Charleston is close to Saltmarsh Reach,” Azaleen stated, looking over the rail at the playful dolphins. “When we make port, you should take a few days to go see them before reporting to Nelanta. If this war actually happens, it could be a long time before you get home again.”
“I’d like that.” A jolt of joy leaped in Lark, then flatlined. “But I need to be by your side, keeping you safe. We don’t know if the Iron Army has arrived yet.” That was the thing about traveling. The pigeons couldn’t just come find you wherever—they needed a familiar base to home to. So, while on the journey, the team could send messages but not receive them.
“I love having my personal protector in arms’ reach, at my beck and call,” Azaleen answered with a flirting wink. “But I don’t want to take advantage. You need to visit your family. I’ll make do without you for a few days. I’ve still got Skye, Luke, Diego, Wes, Harlan, and the entire Nelanta National Guard.”
Lark twisted her lips, her brows scrunched with consternation, her emotions torn. On the one hand, it was quite generous—sweet even—of the queen to grant her leave with war pounding at the door. Then again, she didn’t like the idea that Azaleen could so easily make do without her. Picturing Skye taking over the role of the queen’s personal shield opened a jar of jealousy.
