A statement made because Ardenia had expectedherto retaliate for Renard’s murder right away. It also allowed for the convenient coronation of this so-called son of Sendoa. No one had heard from Geneva in fifteen years—therefore, it was tough to fathom, let alone believe, that a new, unknown male heir could justappearat the Itspi.
But of course Geneva would do something like this.
Of course.
The woman always found a way around an inconvenience. And this baby king was her pawn and ticket in one.
And yet Inés found small comfort in this knowledge. If it was true that Sendoa had a son, that would explain why the king had continuously rebuffed her. And, perhaps, why he had never rewritten the laws in Amarande’s favor. Something that clearly frustrated both the princess and the councilors who worked so hard to marry her off.
It also meant that Amarande or one of her surrogates—the stableboy, the hired pirates, or the single hired hand in Renard’s party who was unaccounted for—had delivered the story of the disastrous wedding within the Bellringe’s walls straight to Ardenia itself.
The Dowager Queen’s quarantine of guests meant it could be no one else… well, except the one other person who was missing.
Taillefer.
Inés closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Yes, disownment would not be enough. That boy would most certainly be the death of her if she didn’t kill him first.
She should have sent Taillefer away as Louis-David’s illness progressed and the boy took an interest in the natural arts. She much preferred her second son torturing cadavers somewhere across the sea than in the Sand and Sky where he could wreak havoc aimed at her ambition.
Again, she went over the information about the wedding.
Yes, reading between the lines made it all so clear.
Ardenia did not have possession of the princess. “Murdered” was not a term or accusation used lightly. And they had turned the full scope of the word’s power on Pyrenee as leverage to draw the other kingdoms in their favor.
The figures on the board had been set up—Tiger, Mountain Lion, Shark, Bear. And now Inés had to see to it that they all fell her way. The best way to do that besides completing the marriage as planned was to expose their lie.
“Your Highness?” The captain finally found his voice as he watched the Dowager Queen’s eyes fly open and her posture reset—shoulders set back at a regal pitch, elbows planted on the table, fingers tented together. Morning light crept up her back from her open balcony, and she knew from his vantage it might appear that she was aflame along with the blazing sky.
“As you are aware, Ardenia has a new king, a reappearing queen, and what they say is a dead princess. This turn of events is too tidy, and for the good of our reputation we must prove them wrong. Captain, it is imperative that you leave immediately to find the princess.”
“Is she my priority over Taillefer?”
It was an astute clarification on Nikola’s part—essentially, Ardenia first or Pyrenee?
With no right of blood, the Dowager Queen’s own claim to Pyrenee was weak. Inés knew it and the rest of the Sand and Sky would, too. The best move she had was to project, deflect, and bury any accusation or person in her way.
She had wanted to bury Ardenia with the threat of war, but if this was her choice she would take a strong claim and an army as her first priority. If Ardenia had used Pyrenee to sell a pack of lies fashioned to install a king with a shaky claim, the combined armies of Pyrenee and Basilica could propel Ardenia into chaos just as easily as a living, breathing princess.
“Taillefer first, Amarande second. Both if the stars align.” Orders accepted, Nikola pivoted toward the door, but she held up a hand. “Captain, you do not want to return to me empty-handed. And should you run, your punishment will be even worse than death. Succeed or you will suffer.”
CHAPTER12
STINKINGof smoke and urgency, Luca and his crew pushed into the rising sun of the Torrent. It was almost as if there were a second dawn here, in the flat-bowl bottoms astride the mountains. They’d already spent hours and yet gained back time.
And they would need it.
They’d left immediately, following the path into the Torrent that Mannah knew Erfu rode most often. The hope was that they would intercept him on the way back to the farm, and make the journey to the resistance’s location that way. A little tardy, but under the cover of dark, and ahead of the Warlord’s men who would surely be after them when the bandits did not appear with the Otsakumea in hand.
But with dawn that hope died away—along with the chances Erfu was still alive.
They were a target, plain and simple. One in search of a needle in a massive, hostile haystack. No guide, no direction, no way to locate a group that had spent seventeen years working very hard not to be found.
In moments after the narrow mountain passes opened into the cracked bottoms of the Torrent, Luca was protected on all sides, cushioned from the elements, as they rode in formation as fast as their horses would carry them. Ula out front, Urtzi behind, Osana on Luca’s weak side. Ula had grumbled about leaving his dagger side open, but the numbers wouldn’t allow for it. They hadn’t had enough horses or people—Mannah was insistent that she should stay at the farm to redirect Erfu to them when he made it. If he made it.
And so the four of them went onward. Into the Torrent. To the resistance. Then, with any luck, to a destiny with Amarande at Luca’s side.
Yet as the russet dust of the Otxoa homeland swirled about their small procession, Luca’s stomach wouldn’t settle. All his senses were on alert for a new threat.
