by Grace Draven
Then weather magic started up again. The cold turned vicious, and when she peeked outside, a driving snow had begun to fall.
She didn’t dare linger any longer. The longer she stayed, the more she risked discovery. There would be no better time to do this. Sighing, she sent a silent prayer winging to the goddess.
And Camael responded.
An invisible leviathan moved through the camp. The hairs at the back of Lily’s neck rose, and her skin tingled as the goddess’s presence poured into the tent. When it passed over her, the light from the braziers darkened, and she looked at everything as if through the gauze of a veil.
Lifting the tent flap, she stepped out. There were guards on her tent, and on Wulfgar’s, stationed in front of fires that had been stoked high to help ward off the cold. All were wrapped tightly in double cloaks and stood near a witch who chanted spells in a continuous, hoarse whisper to ward off the weather magic.
Despite the well-lighted area, no one turned as Lily slipped around them and made her way through the busy camp.
A few times soldiers hurried past, and once she had to dodge to avoid one who almost blundered into her, but not one of them looked at her. She slipped past the perimeter sentries and the witch who stood vigil to support them. Heels crunching in the snow, she walked along the curve of the road, back to the town and the docks.
Two guards and a witch stood sentry there as well, uselessly squandering their precious energy to watch the island when nobody who had taken shelter at the abbey would leave without the Chosen’s permission. They didn’t notice Lily as she walked out on the icy dock.
The night was an immense, dark blue expanse, filled with driving pellets of icy snow that stung the skin, the moon cloaked behind a heavy bank of cloud.
The island itself was a dark, hulking presence, lit intermittently with bright sparks of light in the windows of the towers, and Lily wanted to be in the comfort and shelter of her own room so badly she could taste it.
She frowned at the large, unwieldy barges. Not only were they frozen in place, it took a couple of people working together to maneuver them.
She said to the goddess, If you would be so kind, will you help me get home?
In response to her plea, ice cracked and shifted. She peered into the water, watching as a large shard of ice drifted close and came to a stop beside the dock. It looked to be a larger piece than the rest. Presumably it was strong enough to bear her weight. She sighed.
The goddess murmured, Remember. Be brave as a lion. Have faith that I am with you.
The goddess had once said those words to her when Lily had been very young, but faith came so much more easily to a small child who didn’t truly understand the dangers in the world.
Gritting her teeth, she gingerly climbed down the slippery ladder and stepped onto the hunk of ice. It bobbed gently in the water, enough to make her breathing hitch, but it held her weight. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then it began to move.
Wrapping her borrowed cloak tighter around her torso, she watched as the island grew near. Following the focus of her intention, the ice took her not to the main dock, but around to the small, private dock that faced seaward.
Carefully she climbed off. Ice coated everything, and it was especially thick where constant waves washed over the stone ledge. It was also ridged and uneven, so even though the soles of her boots were smooth, she was able to gain purchase. Pulling out a large key, she made her way to the iron-bound door, but it, too, was covered in a thick sheet of ice.
How flipping wonderful. She looked around at the splendid isolation of the half-frozen seascape, then up at the cliff that towered over her, and despite the indisputable evidence of the goddess’s favor, she felt foolish and very alone.
Pulling her magic together, she sent it out in a raw, inchoate blast of energy that struck the door. It shuddered, and the ice that coated it shattered. Raising more magic, she leaned against the door and strained to sense the heavy bar that she knew was on the other side. After several attempts to shift it with telekinesis, finally she could hear a dull thump as the bar hit the steps.
All but frozen now, she fumbled to insert the key into the solid metal lock. Her fingers had gone numb, and she dropped the key and had to kneel to retrieve it. As she tried again to insert it into the lock, the door jerked open and she tumbled forward in a sprawl.
Grim-faced Defenders filled the stairway inside. Some held torches while others gripped drawn swords. Several steps up, a disheveled Margot and a few other priestesses stood, their Power poised to strike.
Exclamations punctuated the air over Lily’s head. Someone lifted her to her feet while others peered outside at the desolate seascape.
“Lily!” Margot shouldered her way down. Briefly, she stared outside too. “How on earth did you get here?!”
“On a p-piece of ice,” she said, teeth chattering.
Margot repeated blankly, “You rode a piece of ice out to open sea? In a snowstorm?”
“Well, I didn’t do it all by myself.…” Lily looked around at everyone staring at her, their expressions filled with consternation and awe. “I didn’t consider how the door on this side of the island would be frozen shut. I had to knock the ice off before I could try to get it open.”
“Several of us felt the blast of Power.” After ordering the door to be shut and barred again, Margot grabbed her hands. “Dear goddess, you feel like you’ve turned to ice yourself. Clear the way!”
Lily let Margot put an arm around her and lead her up the stairs, pausing only to say, “We’re so complacent about our impregnability, we’ve been neglecting to set a watch down here.”
Immediately, Margot turned and raised her voice again. “Did you hear her? I want that remedied. If Lily can break in, another witch can too.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll post someone down here, around the clock,” the captain of the Defenders promised.
As they climbed flights of stairs and strode down hallways, Lily’s frozen limbs began to thaw, hazing her mind with exhaustion. Shivering set in.
“Tell me what you need.” Margot’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “Food? Tea?”
“Nothing right now,” she said through clacking teeth. “I just want to warm up and go to bed.”
When they reached Lily’s quarters, Margot shut the door firmly on the other curious priestesses who had followed them. She marched Lily over to the hearth of a large fireplace where a fire already blazed.
The flames in Camael’s own hearth never died. Gratefully, Lily sank onto a pile of large floor pillows, scooting as close as she could to the warmth.
Squatting beside her, Margot grabbed her hands and rubbed them briskly between her own, her mouth set in tight lines. “What drove you to return in such an outlandish manner? Did he mistreat you?”
“No!” she exclaimed. Then she added more quietly, “No, he didn’t. He treated me very well, actually. I just… A lot happened, and I have to sort through it all. He was going to send me back this morning anyway, but there was a chance I might be discovered. I wanted to leave before that happened.”
“If he found out who you were, he might not have let you go,” Margot said acutely. “Okay. Can everything else wait until you’ve warmed up and gotten some rest?”
“Y-yes, I think so. No, wait.” She gripped Margot’s hands when the other woman started to pull back. “I don’t believe he’s responsible for the weather magic, and in any case, no matter who is responsible, we can’t stand idly by and let it continue. For one thing, if it isn’t stopped, it’s going to force him to do something desperate.”
“And we may not like what he does next,” Margot muttered.
“Right now he’s trying to be courteous, but if he’s given no other choice, he will take over the town,” she said. “He’s got to protect his troops. And for another thing, that weather magic is wrong, Margot. It’s just wrong. If it continues, it’s going to kill people if it hasn’t already. And if we let it ha
ppen when we have the capability to stop it, we become morally culpable too. I want six teams comprised of our most experienced priestesses and Defenders to go hunting for the sources and to stop them by any means necessary.”
Margot’s reaction was complex, both fear and satisfaction moving in her green gaze. “I’ll confess, it’s going to feel good to take action. But if you do that, we lose any semblance of neutrality in what comes next.”
Shaking her head, Lily said impatiently, “I’ve told you before. We never had any hope of remaining neutral anyway.”
“War is coming, and we can’t stop it,” Margot whispered.
“No, we can’t,” Lily said. “One way or another, Calles is going to fall—either to Guerlan or to Braugne. Our days of remaining an independent principality are over.”
~ 6 ~
Margot’s expression tightened. “How long do you think we have?”
“I don’t know. Not long.”
“Can you see how it’s going to happen?”
“No.” She rubbed her tired face. “But it’s up to us to see that when we do surrender our autonomy, we do it in a way that creates the best outcome for our people. Camael has been preparing me my whole life to deliver this one message. Every vision and dream she’s ever sent me—everything—leads to this.”
“I believe you.” Margot rubbed her back. “But when we assemble those teams and send them out, the council is going to fight us. It’s not that anybody questions your appointment. The whole abbey attended the Choosing ceremony, and Gennita anointed every one of our foreheads with oil—and we all witnessed that magnificent flare of light when the oil touched your skin. But people are people, and this is a massive, frightening change they’re facing.”
“Well, we’re not picking an allegiance yet,” Lily said. “We’re just taking action because it’s the right and lawful thing to do. We need to save lives.”
“I agree, but there are going to be consequences. You might not be picking a side yet, but you will, for sure, be making an enemy of whoever is responsible for the weather magic. Not everybody is going to be okay with that.”
“Which is exactly why I created the position of prime minister.” Turning, Lily laid her head on Margot’s shoulder. “You handle the council while I figure out which outcomes are the best for us and what steps we have to take to get there.”
“That was our agreement,” Margot said wryly.
“So this is your battle to fight, not mine,” Lily told her cheerfully. “And we all know how much you love a good fight.”
Laughing, Margot hugged her. “I used to think there was nothing more that I wanted in the entire world than to become Camael’s Chosen, but now… I don’t envy you, Lily.”
“Smart woman.”
After Margot took her leave, Lily stared into the flames for a long time, hoping beyond hope to gain answers to the questions that plagued her, but the goddess’s presence had withdrawn.
Somehow she had to make the choices that would get Calles and the abbey to the right destination. She had to pick one of two men, the wolf or the tiger.
The invading force from Braugne or the neighboring kingdom of Guerlan.
One of them would open the door to a better future. The other one would destroy it.
No matter how Lily strained for clarification, Camael never allowed her to see too far past that one essential choice, but Lily could sense that the right choice would be… somehow better than okay. There was prosperity down that path, even the prospect of happiness.
Whereas the wrong choice would lead Calles into the worst disaster they had ever seen. If they went down that path, many wouldn’t survive. Perhaps Ys itself wouldn’t survive.
Lily was too new to her position. She’d not yet had the chance to meet Guerlan’s King Varian, but Guerlan had always kept peace with Calles and the abbey, and the letters Varian had sent to her were well written. She didn’t know if he was kind, or if he had a sense of humor, but he did come across as measured, thoughtful, and fair.
And now she had met the Wolf of Braugne.
Had met him, had liked him, and was drawn to him in ways she had never been drawn to a man before. The rogue who had teased her with such knowledgeable sensuality was all but irresistible.
That very same man was a savage killer who had the soul of a conqueror. But it didn’t feel wrong. He didn’t feel wrong.
She had always thought she would recognize the right man as soon as she had the chance to assess him, but she’d been wrong. Everything she had hoped for when events would reach this moment, everything she had thought she understood, had fallen into disarray.
If Lily were Margot, she wouldn’t envy her either.
Finally, her limbs dragging with exhaustion, she went into the bathing chamber to wash. It felt indescribably good to get clean, pull on her oldest, softest nightgown, and crawl into her own bed.
She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and slid into a dream.
A man slipped into her bed and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.
Yawning, she complained, You swore this time you wouldn’t be so late.
I know, I’m sorry. He pulled her back into his arms. My generals wouldn’t stop talking. Let me make it up to you.
The countryside was at war, and she had turned herself into a gypsy to follow him, but he had made an extra effort to make their private quarters comfortable and inviting, and their nights were filled with peace, passion, and warmth.
His powerful body was nude, like hers, and the muscled length fitting along her back was both enticingly exotic and comfortingly familiar at once. Pleasure, like invisible smoke, unfurled warm tendrils along her nerve endings.
She had to force herself to sound cranky as she replied, Shh. I’m busy sleeping.
Are you sure? he whispered huskily in her ear as a long, strong hand curved around the swell of her bare breast. Are you entirely sure?
It felt so good when he caressed her, she wanted to arch like a cat underneath his fingers. Instead, she pretend-snapped, Yes, I’m entirely sure!
His lips teased the sensitive shell of her ear while clever fingers traced circles on her skin. I’ve never known anyone to talk so intelligently in their sleep before. You are a woman of many talents. Now I’m curious to see if you can kiss in your sleep as well.
When he pulled her onto her back, she pinched her traitorous lips together as they tried to widen into a grin. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. Do you always get your way?
I must confess, I do.
He sounded so smug she burst out laughing, even as she tried to see his shadowed features.
Her body knew his, and her heart had already been given, but for some reason, she didn’t know what he looked like, and it was vitally important she see his face.
He lowered his head, and his breath smelled like mint as his warm lips brushed hers. As she threaded her fingers through his hair, he settled his weight more firmly on top of hers and deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth.
She plunged awake, heart pounding, and stared dry-eyed at the frescoed ceiling. Centuries ago it had been painted gold and a deep, celestial blue, but at night the brilliant colors were muted.
She could still feel the weight of her dream lover’s body lingering over hers and taste the mint from his mouth on her lips.
When she had created the role of prime minister to the council, she had confessed most of her visions to Margot, but not all of them.
In her earlier visions, there were always two men, and she would fall in love with one of them.
She had met the one who was intent on conquest. She hadn’t met the other.
One man, she knew from the visions, would be monstrous, while the other man… Well, the goddess only knew how well he would turn out.
She whispered to the ceiling, “Please Goddess, don’t let me fall in love with a monster.”
Gordon burst unceremoniously into Wulf’s tent. “Sir, she isn’t there.�
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For a moment Wulf was convinced he hadn’t heard the other man correctly.
He had been awake late into the night and had rested only for a short while before rising again. After Jada had been thoroughly questioned, Wulf had him executed, keeping the whole affair as quick and efficient as possible. Passing judgment and carrying out the sentence was never easy, and he didn’t believe in prolonging a condemned prisoner’s misery any longer than necessary.
Jada had confessed to having another accomplice, one of the men who worked in the mess tent. That man had to be detained, questioned, and executed too. The second traitor didn’t name any more names, but food supply was one of the most critical components of the complex, massive operation of a mobilized army, so Wulf was not content to let it end there. There could have been others that the first two conspirators knew nothing about.
He ordered the witch who had the strongest truthsense to assess statements from every member of the cooking crew while Jermaine’s team and the camp doctors searched through the food supplies. All of this had been conducted while the rest of the witches fought to lessen the weather magic’s deadly storm to something that was at least survivable.
Now Gordon had put his tent to rights and had served a hot breakfast for two. Dishes piled with meat and potatoes, and mugs of hot tea sat steaming on the reassembled table, waiting for a woman who didn’t show.
Wulf had gotten probably an hour’s sleep at most, and a dull headache throbbed at the base of his skull.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he snapped, “What did you just say?”
Drawing himself up, Gordon said clearly, “The priestess isn’t in my tent. She’s gone, sir.”
He had surged to his feet before the other man had finished the first sentence. Striding to Gordon’s tent, he flung back the flap and glared inside.
The pallet had clearly not been slept in. There was an impression where it looked like she might have curled up, but the blankets were still neatly tucked in at the edges. The two braziers had gone out some time ago, and the edges of the metal bowls were rimmed with frost. Gordon had left a tall pile of wood just inside near the flap, but it looked like it hadn’t been touched.