“Raise the alarm!” she shouted. “There are Brigantines on the beach! They’re coming!”
A stream of profanities was her answer, but then came the sound of a great gate creaking open and farther along the wall a stream of soldiers emerged and ran toward the beach. Surely there were enough to repel the Brigantines?
But where were her men? Ambrose? Tanya and Jane?
The sounds of fighting were distant and grew fainter, but she wasn’t sure if that was a trick of the fog. For what seemed an eternity Catherine stood, heart hammering in her chest, as slowly the mist thinned and the scene before her was revealed.
There were horses standing and a few men, but the ground was covered with bodies. The first person she recognized, stumbling toward her, was Tanya, who was carrying a sword covered in blood. Then she saw some of Rafyon’s men. All had blood on them. One approached Tanya and took the sword from her, and she leaned into his shoulder, weeping. Then Rafyon appeared, leading his horse and limping. And behind the horse was another figure that Catherine recognized immediately.
She started to run to Ambrose, then checked herself. He looked weary but unhurt. She went to Rafyon.
“Is this all that’s left of us?” Catherine didn’t want to ask but had to. “Where’s Jane?”
One of the men said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness. She was hit by an arrow and fell from her horse.”
“Might she be alive?”
“I went to her.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Catherine was in a daze. First Sarah, now Jane. Gentle, kind Jane. Catherine had brought them both to this country and now they were dead. There was just her and Tanya left. Tanya came to stand by Catherine, but she didn’t speak and Catherine couldn’t think of what to say. She wanted to crumple to the ground, but she had to stay strong. She took Tanya’s hand and held it tightly.
Rafyon said, “The Brigantines have fallen back to the beach. We need to check for the wounded, quickly, and we’ll find Jane, bring her body. You should go to the castle, Your Highness. If it’s any comfort, we made a difference today. Had we not been here, the Brigantines may have taken the town by surprise.”
Was that a comfort? Some. But Catherine wanted everyone safe.
“I’m going nowhere until everyone is accounted for.”
There were just fourteen standing with her, so six men were missing.
Rafyon nodded. He gave instructions for his men to search the battlefield quickly. They all looked exhausted but moved away, bending over bodies.
Ambrose and Geratan stayed with Catherine and Tanya.
“My first battle,” Catherine said numbly.
Geratan said, “And mine.”
“Mine too,” said Tanya. “And my last, I hope.”
But Catherine suspected there would be more.
The men returned, one carrying Jane’s body. Another of Catherine’s men was alive but would probably not survive the day. The rest were dead.
“We should go and find Tzsayn,” said Ambrose quietly. “It isn’t safe here.”
Catherine gave a nod and Rafyon led the way through the open gates of Rossarb toward the castle. The cobbled streets were damp and cool, though the sun was now shining brightly. Soon she’d see Tzsayn again, which meant not seeing Ambrose. Or did it? Catherine didn’t know. She couldn’t think about that now. Her mind felt numb still, her thoughts whirling in an unformed mess that she couldn’t put in order.
They passed through a barricade made of doors and tables, makeshift but high, deep, and strong. Beyond it, Catherine was surprised to see a few townspeople carrying bundles of belongings toward the small gray-stone castle that stood at the center of the town.
“I thought most people had left,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Some have fled south,” replied Ambrose, “but not all will be willing or able to leave. They’ll take refuge inside the castle, where it’s safer.”
The castle gates were open but guarded by several blue-haired men.
They saluted Rafyon and one asked, “Who’s that with the white-hairs?”
“Princess Catherine—Prince Tzsayn’s betrothed.”
“Here?” The soldier sounded surprised. He stepped out of the way to allow them to enter.
They passed through into a courtyard where they waited while Rafyon spoke to the guard. Tanya sat down and so did some of the soldiers. Catherine wanted to sit too, but princesses don’t sit on the ground. Eventually another blue-haired man appeared. Catherine recognized him as one of Tzsayn’s bodyguards.
“Your Royal Highness.” He bowed deeply. “We were not expecting to see you here. Your father’s army will arrive at any moment to lay siege to the town. This is not a safe place for you.”
“There are no safe places for me,” replied Catherine, exhaustion threatening to swamp her. “This is as good as any. I have news for my . . .” Catherine caught sight of Ambrose in the corner of her eye. “For Prince Tzsayn.”
The guard blinked. “The prince is out viewing the town defenses. I will send word to him that you are here. Until he returns, may I show you and your maid to somewhere you can rest? Your men can wait here. I’ll see that they are well looked after.”
Catherine and Tanya followed the guard through a doorway and up a set of narrow stone stairs to a simple wooden door. He opened it and stood back, saying, “I will bring the prince as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.” Catherine and Tanya entered and closed the door behind them. Tanya immediately turned the key. That was a new habit.
Catherine lay on the bed. She wanted to sleep, but her mind still seemed to be galloping through mist. Whenever she closed her eyes, she felt the cold of the fog slipping round her. The stab of terror at the moment she lost sight of Ambrose. And what must Jane have felt, alone, abandoned . . . ?
“Jane was alone. I said we’d stay together,” Catherine murmured.
“It’s not your fault, Your Highness. Col was with her. He’s another that died. They were ahead of me and got the worst of it. Legion was with me. He didn’t leave me. Col didn’t leave Jane.”
“You’ve gotten to know the men well these last few days,” said Catherine with a weak smile. She had been too busy with Ambrose and thinking of her father’s plans to pay much heed to the men. They’d been charged to protect her—to die for her—and some of them had.
“They’re all good men.” Tanya’s face crumpled then and she cried. “Were good men.”
Catherine went to embrace Tanya, but still her own tears didn’t come. She thought instead of her father and her brother. They were not good men. They were mad. They had chosen to start a war—they, who knew better than she the full horror and pain of it. They’d lived through one and yet they wanted more. But it was Jane who’d died. Sarah and Jane, Sir Rowland and Col and the others, nameless to her, who had given their lives on the beach.
And because of what? Catherine was determined to find out.
EDYON
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
EDYON AND March had been following Gravell and Tash’s tracks for three days. It wasn’t as hard as Edyon had feared. Mostly there was snow, and Gravell’s giant footprints were easy to spot. They took it in turns, one looking for tracks while the other led the pony and collected wood, though they had agreed never to stray far from each other and, if anything felt strange, be it warm ground or whatever, they would abandon the pony and run together.
On the morning of the first day after the demon attack March was following the tracks when he shouted, “Look what’s here!” He held up Holywell’s daggers. “But why have they left them?”
Edyon smiled and shrugged. “I’ve no idea. But perhaps we can sell them. Money from them and the pony will pay for food, and a boat to Calidor, wouldn’t you think?”