Two councilors entered the room, briefly greeting Frederich and Ian before they sat down.
With a heavy breath, Frederich lifted the topmost sheet of parchment and slid it across the table to Ian.
Repositioning the parchment in front of himself, Ian wondered what further news could have arrived in the night.
It was another message from Gareth.
Under pretense of helping Iseldis prepare for the Return of the Majis, Gareth had been sending his soldiers through the kingdom to aid in the defense on the shore. Along with his soldiers had come daily missives offering advice—or, demands, really.
The presence of Gareth’s soldiers provided an additional level of difficulty in making a public stand against the king. If they renounced Gareth, they would be instantly bringing war to the heart of Iseldis.
Ian looked over the daily missive from Chendas. Gareth complained that bandits had been harassing the soldiers he was sending to Iseldis, and he criticized Frederich’s lack of control over the people of his kingdom. Gareth asked—demanded—that every effort be made to stop this bandit activity so that they could unite together against the incoming Majis.
Gareth’s tone was conciliatory, but Ian could now see the double meaning behind his words.
“We have never had an issue with bandits before,” Ian said, looking up at his father. He felt a glimmer of pride that the people of the kingdom were not pleased with Gareth’s presence, even if they did not know the full truth. “As wrong as this is, I cannot blame our people for pushing back against the soldiers, especially while food is scarce.”
Frederich smiled beneath his beard. He picked up a pen from the inkwell in front of him. “Unfortunately,” he said, “I will have to tell Chendas that with the Majis on our doorstep, we do not have the resources to deal with errant bandits. The soldiers will have to fend for themselves.”
Ian nodded in agreement. The conciliatory tone could work both ways.
A knock sounded at the door, and King Frederich’s personal squire entered the room. “Your Majesty,” he said, approaching the table with a quick bow. “A messenger from Clerbon has arrived. He will only speak his message to a member of the royal family.”
Ian was standing before the squire had finished speaking. It was not uncommon for messengers to request a private audience. He would hear the message and relay it to his father. Frederich nodded as Ian followed the squire out of the room.
A man in travel-worn clothing stood in the hall. He bowed deeply when he saw Ian. His hair was damp and frazzled from his journey, and he smelled strongly of horse. When he stood back up, Ian could see the exhaustion in his eyes from riding through the night.
“Your Highness?” The messenger addressed Ian, but he phrased the words as a question.
“Ian Sirilian,” Ian replied, introducing himself.
Apparently not satisfied at Ian’s words alone, the messenger turned to the squire for confirmation. Ian appreciated the man’s caution.
“The Crown Prince of Iseldis,” the squire said.
Ian motioned for the messenger to follow him into an empty room further down the hall, as it appeared the man wanted complete privacy.
Seemingly satisfied that they were alone, the messenger turned to Ian. “Your Highness, I have just come from Clerbon.We received word some four hours ago that Princess Philomena and her husband are on their way back from Falqri. They travel in haste and secrecy. The princess said to tell you—” The messenger paused as though trying to remember the exact wording. Ian appreciated his thoroughness. “We have succeeded in our goal, but we have been found out.”
Although this news had been expected, Ian felt a deep fear settle in his stomach. But he kept his face neutral, not wanting to show his fear to this stranger. “Is that all?” Ian asked.
“Her ship will land by nightfall. She asks for a small and unmarked retinue to see her safely back to the castle.”
“Thank you,” Ian replied. “Get some rest, my good man.”
The messenger bowed deeply as Ian left the room.
Chapter 3
“Aproper raid!” Lane adjusted the leather strap on his chest. “It has been too long. The last one was flawless.”
Robin, slipping her specially curved bow into the harness on her back, smiled at the memory—and at her friend’s enthusiasm.
Standing in the clearing behind Lockwood Manor, she looked at the seven assembled members of her band. River’s Talon consisted of various types of people across the five kingdoms who secretly supported the Majis. This particular group certainly fought for justice, but they also had no qualms acting as bandits. Sometimes that meant risking their lives to spirit a captured Majis out of Gareth’s clutches—as they had recently done with Sol.
And sometimes it looked like a simple raid to redistribute wealth from those who did not need it to those who did. Their last raid, some three seasons prior, had been both fun and flawless, as Lane had described. They had visited an estate in Chendas under the guise of delivering ale. Carrying the heavy barrels into the estate cellar had given them unrestricted access to several rooms in the house, and the wagon they left with was nearly as full as the one they had arrived with.
Lane was not the only one who appeared excited by the prospect of another raid.
