Dark Court: The Final Hour Page 6

  Chapter 11

  STEADILY, ROISEN'S HORSE walked through the silent surrounds of the forest. The echoes of battle had dissipated and all seemed quiet and peaceful. His sword was at his side, his hand rested on it, half expecting an attack. It would be shameful, but he wouldn't put it past Wierstoke to forgo his honor.

  His commanders were soberly riding behind him, nervous about the talks ahead. Their immediate future depended on this talk. It would determine the next battle. Surrender wasn't something Roisen was expecting at this point.

  The glade for the meeting point came into sight and Wierstoke was already there, standing with his arms folded on top his sizeable midriff. He looked too unfit to be a soldier, but it seemed he did little in the battle other than direct people from a safe distance. That would hurt him in the end, but it did mean that Wierstoke was unlikely to die on the battlefield.

  It would be more convenient for everyone if he died, but the sentiment was likely mutual.

  "Lorcan," he said as Roisen emerged into the glade and dismounted his horse. Wierstoke was dressed in full regalia, gold brocade and polished buttons, and Roisen wondered if he was supposed to be impressed. He wasn't one for buffoonery himself.

  "Wierstoke. Ready to concede?"

  The man snorted. "I was about to ask you the same. Your men are underequipped and undertrained."

  Neither was true, but Roisen supposed Wierstoke believed he could shake his confidence. Roisen's spies told a different story. Wierstoke did have more numbers in his army, but he did cut corners, especially on food. Hungry men didn't fight well, but Wierstoke couldn't overcome his frugal nature, particularly when it benefitted other people. He truly would make a terrible liege.

  "I wonder how many of your numbers view their provisions unkindly," Lorcan said with a smile. Wierstoke's expression told he knew his own weakness. His rapport with his men wasn't stellar. Hungry men were never appreciative. Could be that disturbing Wierstoke's supply lines would pay dividend.

  "I have been wondering the same about your woman. Last time I checked, she hadn't reneged on our alliance, but she is running around causing trouble from what I hear. Who can respect you as a ruler if you can't even control your own woman?" The sneer on Wierstoke's face suggested he'd been holding onto this one.

  His own spies had also told him that Ashra had been active. Exactly with what, he didn't know, but she'd had a meeting with the captain of the guard, which had to be meaningful. Roisen didn't know the content of what was said during that meeting, but he knew it had taken place.

  "Seems she is making waves with the peasants," Wierstoke continued. "They whisper of her in villages all over the land. It seems she may be entering the fray after all. For all her soft words, her ambition shines through her actions. Seeks to flank us both for the throne."

  If Wierstoke believed that, he didn't know her. Ashra didn't have the ambition to be a ruler, but she was up to something. "The lady does as she pleases," Roisen said.

  Her rejection of him still hurt. It wasn't something she was discussing, because Wierstoke still assumed they were united, or perhaps more than they should be, and it was a failing on Roisen's part that she wasn't under control. One didn't control Ashra. Wierstoke apparently refused to see that.

  There was that hope in his heart that wished she was acting to help him, that in her way, she was working against Wierstoke, but she didn't reveal her intentions to him. "We battle again in a week from today," Roisen stated. "Unless you reneg, in which case, I will accept your surrender."

  "Then we will meet this day in a week." Wierstoke's face was practiced arrogance. Roisen smiled back. If he had any influence on it, Wierstoke's men would be weaker in a week and their forces would grow more uneven.

  "Until then," Roisen said with a bow and turned his back. It was his own sign of arrogance. Wierstoke could draw his sword and cut him down, but Roisen would see by the expression on his men's faces if Wierstoke or any of his men tried anything. Roisen almost wished he would—it would end this war quickly. With his bulk, Wierstoke would not be the best one-on-one combatant. Hence, Roisen felt fairly assured Wierstoke wouldn't take the chance, but one could always hope.

  Mounting his horse, Roisen rode back the way he'd come, his men behind him. The forest soon enveloped them out of view and drowned any sounds of the departing enemy.

  This upcoming battle was necessary and Roisen would ensure it started the tide of this war flowing his way. He would be the stronger side. Aside that, though, Ashra's activities were noticed. She had a habit of putting herself at risk, enough that Wierstoke was paying attention to her—might even be encouraged to act.

  It couldn't be denied that she was up to something. Her name was mentioned in villages across the land, but now it was perhaps time to understand her intentions.

  "Present Richerley," Roisen demanded as he returned to his tent and his man went to do his bidding. It didn't take long for Richerley to appear. Richerley had started collating the intelligence from Roisen's various agents. "Is Lady Greve at her estate?"

  "She leaves often. There are people coming and going."

  With a sigh, Roisen sat down at his desk and put his feet up and leaned back. She was definitely up to something. "Who?"

  "We don't have any names, or identities. No one that can be identified on sight."

  Which meant they were no one of influence—peasants in other words. No doubt she was enacting one of her lofty and misguided plans. Ashra did have enough zeal that she got people to listen to her, even if they failed to execute as she wished them to. Big dreams that the people around her failed to deliver.

  "I need to go see her," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Everything about Ashra was prickly, but her activities were drawing attention and she had a propensity for putting herself in danger. There was still a chance that Wierstoke would act against her. "Bring my officers."

  In his absence, they had to be prepared for an attack. Wierstoke could well have intended that he go seek Ashra out and was planning to ambush in his absence. They would prepare for the eventuality.

  Leaving his commanders behind would provide a firm response to any ambush, Roisen left with a contingent of men. It was not the time for safe travel for anyone and as expected, he met sullen and fearful people on the roads. The guard were doing their duty, keeping overview on the main roads to quell any trouble. If the times had not been so uncertain, his trust in Ashra could be assured he wasn't walking into a trap. Wierstoke had blatantly stated he was trying to recruit Ashra. Not that Roisen could see any promises Wierstoke could make that would sway her.

  It took more than a day’s ride to reach the Greve estate and he could see for himself that there were people coming and going. Even a grain cart. She was still trying to feed every hungry mouth in the land. Her soft heart was bleeding her dry, when what was really needed was a swift resolution to this challenge for the throne, but her ideas were more important to her than a swift resolution. It was a hypocrisy he wished she could see.

  The sad truth was that he did not know if he was riding into the lands of a friend or an enemy. Proof said she wasn't simply minding her own business on her estate. She was up to something.

  A number of men stood in the courtyard by the main house, with hard, unflinching stares of hatred. They were too wise to approach wizened fighting men, but Roisen hadn't realized attack was a possibility on her estate until now.

  "I am here to see Lady Greve," Roisen said when the Greve estate retainer appeared at the door. Looking around, Roisen studied the men around. Peasants without a doubt. Were they farm hands? If so, she wasn't keeping them busy.

  "The lady will see you," her man said and stepped aside. Roisen walked into the house he had been to a number of times during better days—when her husband had been alive and as close to a friend as he’d ever had. They were less close after Torunn's marriage, as apparently, he had been locking the world away from his little cocoon here with his wife.

  Pain twisted
his gut. She had refused that with him. The retainer showed him to what had been Torunn's study and he found Ashra sitting at the desk, beautiful as always, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders. Looking up, she frowned. Not exactly the welcome he wanted.

  There were two others there. Peasants with the same dark, hateful stares. The one closest to her had brown hair and equally colored, cold eyes. Letters were strewn all over the desk and she was writing a correspondence. "What have you been up to?" Roisen asked.

  Chapter 12

  DRESSED IN BLACK, Lorcan stood in her study. Not entirely expected, but it wasn't perhaps a surprise that he was there. As usual he wore no expression as his eyes traveled around the room and finally settled on her.

  "Would you excuse us, Mr. Bryce," Ashra said and the room was silent as Bryce and his cohorts left, closing the door with a firm click. "Lorcan."

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. Ashra had no idea what to say—certainly not how to mention she was actively acting against him. It was nothing personal and she needed a way of conveying that.

  "There are rumors of all sorts of things going on," he started, "and they all seem to center around you."

  "There are things going on, I suppose."

  "Who are these people?"

  "Just concerned citizens."

  Ashra refused to feel ashamed. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, they were effectively on opposite sides, but she had never sworn any kind of allegiance to him.

  "Concerned citizens," he repeated and took a step closer to the desk. All her materials, their planning was strewn over the desk, but there wasn't much he could garner from it, other than the fact that they were planning.

  His face was drawn. He looked tired, which wasn’t perhaps surprising as he was in the middle of waging war, but something had drawn him here. "Why are you here?" she finally asked.

  Eyes still avoiding her, he looked around the walls. "Torunn was alive the last time I was in this room. Before you, I think, or before he told us of you. I don't know which. Seems a long time ago."

  "It was a long time ago. A lot has happened in that time." The conversation was awkward, stilted.

  "How is the child?"

  "She is fine. Upstairs." His eyes were on her now. Ashra felt the pressure of them. Suddenly anger welled up inside her—at how she'd been treated and at how he had failed her. "Nothing here," she said, indicating to everything on the desk, "has anything to do with what has happened between you and me."

  "Then what does it have to do with?"

  "The larger picture."

  Lorcan chuckled. "They say you are entering the fray, your sights on the throne. Well, that is what Wierstoke says. He doesn't really understand you."

  "No," Ashra agreed.

  "Doesn't mean that will stop him from reacting. You will draw his attention; you already have."

  "I expect so."

  His eyes were searching hers and she had to stop herself from looking away. The disdain for her he'd managed in the past wasn't quite there. "So what are you doing? You might as well be honest."

  Was there an accusation there, she wondered. "I have never not been honest."

  Silence proved he didn't want to respond. Or was he simply trying to provoke her?

  "There are a lot of people who don't want another liege to rule over them."

  "And you are one of them," he said pointedly.

  "Yes."

  "So not only do you wish to reject me as a king, but you wish to reject the very ground I walk on."

  "Yes," she confirmed after a while.

  Silence descended again.

  "You always said you have no ambition, but I think you misrepresent yourself."

  "I do not wish to be a ruler."

  "Simply a leader."

  "Only because one is required."

  "Such protests," he said with a tsk. "'I do not wish to rule, but I must.' One almost fails to believe you."

  "You know I have wanted change from the very beginning."

  "No, you kept telling me all you wanted was to return to your estate and be left alone. Which you have achieved, but it turns out that is not what you want."

  Ashra was losing her temper. "I cannot ignore the atrocities that are happening around me."

  "Yet you did not seek the quick solution by backing me. You entertained your ambitions—and foolhardily. Now you wish to take on every Naufren in the land—the entire system."

  "Yes," Ashra confirmed.

  "How far do you feel my protection should reach?"

  "I don't need your protection."

  "I could kill you right here. You would not have the strength or skill to stop me. One could almost say it is my moral obligation." It was true. If he pulled out his sword, there was little she could do to stop him. No one would reach her in time.

  A fission of fear speared through her at the thought, but on some level, she knew he wouldn't. The exact nature of what was stopping him, she didn't dare consider. Still, she wasn't brave enough to state that she knew he wouldn't. It would mean them both acknowledging what lay between them—and what tied them. "It would make me a martyr," she said instead.

  "Your son, your children are a part of the structure you wish to destroy. It is their very future you are trying to tear down. You do understand that, don't you?"

  "Of course I do. A new system will be in its place—a fairer system."

  "Or one where they will have to face poverty. Perhaps even retribution. Or do you expect that your family and estate will be given exception. If you tear at the fabric of this society, it will unravel. It is my daughter you are putting at risk."

  "A daughter you have never seen," she said sharply.

  "A daughter I wished you to raise in my house!" he roared back. Stepping away from the desk, he turned his back on her. Obviously, he trusted her enough to do so. "You are jeopardizing your own children's future."

  "This needs to be done. I cannot simply stand by and allow this grave… unfairness just because my child is the one that benefits, when everyone else, my people, are suffering."

  "See, you speak like a ruler," he accused.

  "I do not."

  "You are simply the one to wreak destruction on us all, to then walk away. Is that it?"

  There was some truth to the accusation. "There will be a system."

  "You mean a council like the one that failed so spectacularly at the citadel. Run by a bunch of ignorant peasants who can't do anything but lament how they couldn't even manage to feed themselves."

  "Do not blame them for Raufasger's brutality."

  "They did precious little about it."

  "We are doing something about it!"

  Again he regarded her, now standing across the room. "Then we will be enemies."

  Stillness settled on the room, the only sound being the clock on the mantle. "You could choose not to fight me."

  "Oh, shall I simply hand my estate and my position over to a bunch of peasants? And what good would that do? Wierstoke is still coming for you, along with everyone else when they finally realize what you are doing. They will all come for you, and then what will happen to your orphan son? They will descend on your estate like vultures. He will become the peasant you so wish him to be." His words were cruel and intended to be so. It also didn't go unnoted that he didn't include Charis in this picture of Tabain's demise.

  Lorcan knew her well enough to prod her weakness. It had been the only cause of concern when embarking on this—how it would affect her children and their future. It could very well be that she would be undoing the advantages they had in life. But equally, she wanted to build a world where they would thrive, and not by the misery of others.

  But if she failed, there would be no one protecting Tabain. Lorcan would protect Charis, but she had no recourse to implore him to protect Tabain too. "I think you understand why I cannot fail," she said. "I will not fail."

  Her confidence wasn't quite a solid as she implied. Contingency plans for Tabain would
have to be made. Unfortunately, she didn't quite know who she could trust in this regard. Bryce and his friends were only here because their ambitions aligned. He had no loyalty to her or her son.

  Without her, Tabain would only have the dowager Lady Greve to protect him, and she had little or no influence if Ashra failed and the Naufren came for her estate. He would be left with nothing. "I cannot fail," she repeated.

  "I don't think there is any doubt that you will fail."

  "You don’t understand how motivated we are."

  "This isn't the first rebellion to be quelled," Lorcan said in disbelief.

  "If you think this is a simple rebellion, then you will be taken by surprise."

  "Let me make this clear: In no way will I ever be taken."

  "Then don't fight me," she said.

  "Unfortunately you were never one to see reason and you wreak destruction because of it. You will destroy your own house, your son's future—even yourself."

  Ashra had had enough of this. He was toying with her insecurities, using them as a weapon against her, and they both knew it. "We are coming, and nothing will stop us. We might only be a bunch of peasants to you, but you don't understand how fed up and motivated we are. We've had enough of you and your self-serving dominion."

  Placing his hands on the documents on the desk, he leaned toward her. "Next time I come here, I am taking my daughter home."

  It was both a treat and a promise. She could see it in his eyes. Sharply, he turned and left, leaving emptiness in his wake.

  Ashra sat down in her chair. Lorcan was going to be a problem. He was always a problem. It was done now. They were officially enemies, and he would probably show her little mercy. The contrary part of her brain told her she had just signed her own death warrant and mastered Tabain's downfall. She could not fail at this. There was no backing out now; she had to see this through to the very end.

  Lorcan's accusations still stung, especially the uncertainty that came with enacting significant change. Things never turned out as rosy as she wanted. A hard-won lesson. But whatever new era she brought in couldn't be any worse than the current one. The Naufren’s rule had to be overturned.