“Those aren’t guards; those are soldiers.” Amarande wished she were wrong.
“A lotof soldiers,” Luca amended, glancing to Koldo for confirmation. “At least a regiment’s worth.”
Anger flashed about Koldo’s stern features, jaw muscles flickering as she ground her teeth, her stare boring down the hill. “I told them not to recall my soldiers from the borders. Clearly they did anyway.”
Theymeant Amarande’s mother. Or Ferdinand acting on her behalf.
The Warlord always had her most trained soldiers surrounding her at all times, the strongest ring of protection a halo of her person, her tent, her carriage. Thus, this adjustment was in line with what Geneva would have been accustomed to in that role. And it was lucky, given Inés’s approach by sea instead of land.
But from their point of view, this added protection presented a significant problem.
“I am suddenly feeling far less confident about our plan,” Ula announced.
“Perhaps we wait until the resistance arrives,” Luca offered. “All of it. Not simply the first wave.”
Koldo shook her head. “No. They’re on alert for Inés. See those clusters? They’re forming parties to send into the countryside, on the lookout for any signs of movement from Inés.”
Amarande swallowed. “They aren’t just going to wait for her in the harbor?”
“Not when they know she can dock ships nearby and send a whole regiment on foot to create a helpful obstruction between the port and her arrival at the castle.”
The small amount of time Amarande had spent in the council room over the last year had yielded some insight into her father’s strategic mind, but not this. “What shall we do, Koldo?”
“What we don’t do is our plan,” Ula answered, out of turn. “See those archers? Ten arrows in my back the second I identify myself. Geneva didn’t intend to negotiate; she intended to kill her puppet and gain her prize.”
Ula was correct. Arrows would be coming for Koldo and Luca, too. The princess put the possibility of her being left standing at one-to-one. It depended greatly on the narrative Geneva and Ferdinand planned to deploy against Inés. Though Amarande very much doubted Inés would back off an invasion simply because Ardenia offered to extradite its fugitive princess.
Amarande bit her lip. “Okay, new plan. Koldo, these men and women would know you on sight, wouldn’t they? They would listen to you, let us through, obey if you gave them a command?”
The wind kicked up as the general worked through the scenarios, her dark eyes searching the grounds. “Perhaps, but we have no way of knowing how they’ve been instructed by the Queen Mother, who recalled them. I do not put it past Geneva to name me a threat as easily as she might name you, Princess, if it is to her advantage and the king is not within earshot.” She inhaled deeply. “I think perhaps our best course of action is through you, Princess. If you speak, they will listen.”
“Koldo, they think I’mdead.”
“Exactly.” Koldo’s tone remained even and direct, but now contained the power of confidence she’d clearly lacked during their earlier planning. “These are my soldiers. They attended the king’s funeral before striking out for the borders. They know your face, your voice, your reputation. They will believe you when you confirm your identity, and know they’ve been lied to. It’s imperfect, but if I can shelter Ferdinand from any ill will to come from this—”
“Shelter me from what, Mother?”
All eyes snapped to the sound of a new voice. And there, rounding the bend at the bottom of the hill, was the king himself.
CHAPTER58
STARS,he’s a ghost.
For the second time on this journey, Luca had nearly the same thought. This time, seeing someone whose life he knew rather than someone whose end he’d given.
Luca stared down the hill at the boy on the horse, his lips falling open, no sound coming out. Amarande stiffened against him, the space between them erased. Her heart rattled against her rib cage in a fluttering cadence against his spine. The rhythm repetitive, and nearly words themselves.Friend or foe? Friend or foe?
Luca’s own heart lurched simply in making eye contact with this boy. The spitting image of King Sendoa, twenty years younger. At first, Luca hadn’t understood how Geneva had strode into the Itspi with this boy and managed to claim the kingdom and dispossess Amarande at the same time.
Now it was clear.
Luca knew what the councilors saw. What the people saw from the stands still warm from Sendoa’s funeral. Who those soldiers saw when they’d been called to defend the Itspi.
Their king. Back. Anew. Here and safe, and protective, against all of the fear and uncertainty and change that Amarande’s ascension to the throne might have wrought.
Luca’s attention slid to Koldo. The boy’s true mother. And before the stars and strangers, he’d called her that in the open.
“My king, as commanded, I have retrieved the princess,” the general announced almost mechanically, as if an archer would strike her dead if she didn’t follow the script.
