“Luca must go early,” Koldo conceded in her even way before wheeling to the heart of her concern. “You, my queen, do not have the same obligation.”
With that, the general began to remove her gloves, as if she was settling in for a long argument. So be it. Amarande would have this fight for all the grains of sand in Torrence if the repetition would make everyone in their orbit see. She and Luca would stay together, forever. They’d fought for it, and they would have it. Even when the most important people in their lives were against it.
Unfortunately, Koldo was never one to avoid a dispute.
Amarande leveled her gaze on the general. She loved and admired Koldo so much and knew that the general’s current disagreement was borne of Koldo’s own heart and experience, and yet, she would not agree. “We stay together. You know we will not budge on this.”
“I also know you are more than bright enough to be flexible when the situation demands such.”
The cut was expertly placed—aimed perfectly between her pride and her stubbornness. Still, Amarande held fast. “No. He must go and I will go with him.”
“Then I will send a regiment with you.”
“Koldo, we cannot march into Torrence with the Ardenian army!” Amarande did not even try to hide the frustration in her voice. “You know the concerns of the Torrentian people. They mistrust Ardenia and with good reason. If we storm in looking like we want a fight, we’ll either provoke a battle or scare the people away.”
The women sat squarely on opposing sides now, Amarande’s words the line between them. The general had much practice staring down difficulty, but the queen had no plans to flinch.
After a long moment as tense as a bowstring, Luca waded in, careful not to make it snap. “General, I have no say in this—”
“Of course, you do!” Amarande and Koldo answered nearly in unison.
Luca glanced between them and quietly closed the book in his hands. “Amarande is right. At some point we might be able to heal the reputation of Ardenia’s military within the minds of the people of Torrence, but now is not the time.”
“I do not care about Ardenia’s reputation, I care about your lives.” The general’s ungloved fist pounded atop the parchment-laden table, a quick, furious, unexpected strike. Even with all the paper strewn about, the sound was sharp and impressive. “Geneva is out there, somewhere, cooking up a plan to exact revenge on one or both of you. She has been ousted, outed, and is again on the run. Your exposure until you reach the larger camp is a serious risk. Honestly, leaving these walls at all is a risk.”
When she finished, Koldo was breathing hard, her stoic presence cracking.
Amarande steeled herself and stared into the dark eyes of the woman who had always, always had her back. She had it here, too—Amarande was the one who could not accept the support. “But we must leave these walls. It is our duty.”
Koldo inhaled thinly. “I understand, yet I believe it is unwise for you to be unprotected as our new queen.” She looked to Luca. “Or as the last of your line.”
This was the truth. Their power was a blade or arrow or sip of poison away from sending two nations into disarray.
Luca scrubbed a hand through his hair. “At the Hand we will have my resistance army. They will keep me safe, which means they willkeep Amarande safe. That said, you are not wrong about our trip to the Hand. We do not have Ula, Urtzi, and Osana this time.”
Amarande’s insistence on improving their reputation was starting to crack with compromise. “General, perhaps we could ride with a guard company? Luca, a handful of personal guards would not appear too forward to those assembling at the Hand, would it? I would imagine they would appreciate that Ardenia has taken some precaution in delivering you safely to the rendezvous point?”
Luca thought on this a long moment. “I don’t think they would object to additional precautions given the boldness of Geneva and her followers.”
Koldo gave a gruff nod. “I will select the correct team to travel with you.”
“You won’t go?” Luca asked the question but it was poised on Amarande’s tongue as well.
“I must escort Ardenia’s caravan to the conclave. It is imperative that they are not held up—nor infiltrated. Moreover, I have attended far more conclaves than young Joseba. I am needed to ensure we arrive with the correct accompaniments.”
That made sense, Amarande supposed. Conclaves were typically held once per year and rotated in location. She did not know the last time one was held in the open—possibly never, as each castle was nearly the same age, and when the conclave was last held in Torrence the Otxazulo still stood.
The general rose to her feet, gloves in hand, a new task driving her forward.
“Before I go, I will implore you to allow a full regiment to ride with the Ardenian caravan. For protection at the conclave. The Torrentian people will surely not read their presence as a threat but instead as merely a rote precaution.”
Amarande caught eyes with Luca, but then shook her head. Disagreeing with Koldo was never easy, and always felt like the wrong choice. But this one had been made for them. “You heard the guardians of the kingdoms at our last meeting—they distrust Ardenia and me in particular as power hungry. If we flaunt our army about at a peaceful meeting, it will seem more than an overreach, it will seem a threat.”
The general put on her gloves, rolled her shoulders back, and faced her queen with the pleading eyes of a mother, a friend, a general.
“There are times to care about how one is perceived and there are times not to give a damn.” This was clearly one of those times. Koldo’s delivery was as professional as always, but there was a glassy sadness to it, and then, to her eyes as she clapped a hand gently atop both Amarande’s and Luca’s shoulders, her grip as firm and protective as any armor. “Stay safe, stay vigilant, and stay mindful of Sendoa’s most precious tenet—Beware or be dead. I will see you soon.”
CHAPTER 13
