CHAPTER 30

SENNETH had never in her life seen a sight so strange as that of Amalie running across the lawns of the palace after the skirmish was over. The princess was filthy, spattered with dirt and blood; her beautiful hair was a tangled mess of color. Ahead of her strode Justin, his sword still in his hand, his face as grim as ever Tayse’s could be. Cammon hurried next to her, holding her hand tightly in his-perhaps just to help her over the corpses littering the field, perhaps to fill her with whatever comfort he could muster.

The red raelynx loped lazily beside her, his body so close to hers that his fur brushed against her soiled dress. He looked around with bright interest, sniffed the air, noted every fallen body, located every living soul. Even on this day of so much loss and destruction, there was something spellbinding about him, something mesmerizing. Senneth’s head was ringing with pain and for a moment she thought she might be imagining the presence of this feral creature, so unexpected, so unlikely. She stared at him, briefly losing track of everything else in the dazzle of his elemental beauty.

Then Amalie came closer, and Senneth could see the tears streaking the princess’s dirty cheeks, and she realized that the awful message she had come forward to convey had already been delivered. She had never been so grateful for Cammon’s ability; these were words she had not wanted to be the first to speak.

She should have greeted the princess as majesty. She should have placed her fist against her shoulder as a mark of reverence and respect. Instead, Senneth gathered the girl in a close embrace and whispered in her ear, “Amalie, Amalie, I am so sorry.”

For a moment, Amalie clung to her, and then she pushed away. Her face was pale, her lips bitten through, but she wore an expression of proud determination. “What happened?”

“Too many attackers, and he was in an open room,” Senneth said, but she could hardly take her eyes off the raelynx. It had dropped to his haunches and was staring up at her with an unwinking gaze. Was Cammon holding it? Was Amalie? How had it gotten free? Was it safe? Was that blood on its whiskers? “Wen went down-though she’s alive-and Tir battled so hard. Coeval and I fought our way into the room, but there were so many of them.” She took a deep breath. “Once Tir was dead, the king fell. But only once Tir was dead.”

Justin nodded at the fresh soldiers roving the field, seeking for the wounded among the fallen, identifying friends, making sure that enemies were dead. “What alerted the city guard? Your fire on the walls?”

Senneth almost smiled at that. “Your wife. No one saw her as she slipped out of the gates and ran for help.”

Justin only nodded, but Senneth saw pride in his eyes. “And she’s safe?”

“Unharmed. As are Kirra and Donnal. Kirra’s with Wen, and Ellynor has been called to the ballroom, where they are bringing in our wounded men. We do not have nearly enough healers.”

“Hammond’s in the sculpture garden. He might be-he was alive when we left. Someone must go to him.”

Senneth nodded. “I’ll tell Milo.”

“Where’s my father?” Amalie asked.

Senneth gave her a compassionate look. “Valri is with him. You might not-”

Amalie’s voice was almost cold. “I will go to him.”

“I’ll take her,” Cammon said in a soft voice. As soon as Amalie had pulled free of Senneth’s hug, Cammon had taken her hand again. He had the ability to keep despair at bay-Senneth had seen him do it-but she was not sure even Cammon’s magic was enough to buoy Amalie through the next few hours, the next few days. “Where is he?”

“Where he fell. The great dining hall.”

Amalie nodded regally and swept forward, still flanked by Cammon and the raelynx. Senneth stared after them and then turned to Justin.

“What in the silver hell happened?” she demanded.

He shook his head. He had pulled out a cloth and was wiping blood from his blade but he didn’t look like, even once it was clean, he planned to sheathe it anytime soon. “We took shelter in this little alcove in the sculpture garden. About a dozen men stormed us-we were in a good position and able to fend them off until Hammond got hurt. And then more came.” He shrugged, but Senneth could imagine the grimness of the scene. “I knew I would not be able to keep them at bay much longer. Cammon was fighting in Hammond’s place-”

“Cammon? He’s never killed a man in his life.”

“Well, he killed three today. But he’s no Rider. I knew we would all be dead within minutes. And then-that creature came howling into the garden.” He shook his head. “You think you’ve heard it, when we were traveling on the road or when you were walking by its enclosure some afternoon when it was hunting. But, Senneth, you never heard anything like this. It went after those men, one after the other-just slaughtered them and moved on. I knew the attackers would all be done for, but I thought we might be, too.”

“Cammon says she can control it.”

“Well, it sure looked that way to me.”

“So-now-well, what?” she demanded. “She thinks to keep it out of its garden? She thinks to keep it by her side like some kind of lapdog? Or to let it roam the palace grounds at will?”

Justin gave her a ghost of his familiar grin. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea. We might lose a Rider here and there, or maybe a servant or two, but the princess will be safe.”

Senneth caught her breath. “The queen.”


THEY found Tayse in the ballroom, checking on the condition of the fallen Riders. His face was utterly set, his expression remote, and Senneth ached for him as much as she ached for Amalie. He had lost his father; he had lost his king. The man he loved, the man he served. Even in the greater turmoil of a kingdom in chaos, these two losses would hit the strongest man hard enough to make him stagger.

Justin went straight up to Ellynor and took her in a tight embrace. They stood together and whispered, repeating their own tales of this dreadful day. Tayse nodded to Justin, a simple acknowledgment of a job well done, and came toward Senneth.

“I want to hug you, but I don’t know if that will harm you,” she said to him in a low voice.

He immediately put his arms around her. She could feel his weariness finally battering down his rage. “How could it harm me?”

Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “Love might seem like a kind of weakness during a time when you cannot afford anything but strength.”

He kissed the top of her head and dropped his arms. “You give me strength,” he said quietly.

She glanced toward the middle of the room, where ten or twelve men lay on pallets on the floor. Milo, the housekeeper, and a handful of servants moved between them, administering herbs and binding up injuries. Two footmen had just been dispatched to find Hammond, but there were plenty of others who also needed serious attention.

“What’s the tally among the Riders?” Senneth asked.

“Five dead, twelve badly wounded. The rest of us all have injuries but nothing severe.” His own chest was bound with a thick layer of cloth, white except where the blood had seeped through, and his left arm was also wrapped from wrist to elbow. Senneth had only minor cuts and scrapes, though she was fairly certain she should have someone check out a persistent burning sensation on her right leg. She might have taken a blow there; she couldn’t remember.

She didn’t want to remember.

“I have seen Riders fight before,” she said softly. “But today I saw them die. I have never seen such bravery and skill in all my life.”

He nodded, accepting that compliment on behalf of all Riders, but did not answer it directly. Instead, he said, “Where’s Amalie?”

“With her father.”

He compressed his lips and did not reply.

Senneth added, “And Cammon. And the raelynx.”

That did startle an expression onto his face. “Someone freed it? Is it safe?”

“Apparently it freed itself when she was in gravest danger. Justin says it saved all of their lives.”

“Another weapon in her arsenal,” he commented. “She has many.”

“Tayse,” Senneth said urgently, “she is queen now. Should there be a ceremony? A coronation? In the midst of all this bloodshed?”

“Her uncle will know the answer to that,” Tayse said. He took her hand. “Let us go find the queen.”


AMALIE was in the great dining hall where Baryn had so often entertained high-ranking visitors from across the realm. Now the king’s body had been laid on a bench at one end of the room. Ten yards away, his inner circle of family and advisors clustered around the end of a long, polished table and discussed strategy. Senneth noted that someone had covered Baryn with a purple blanket embroidered with the royal lions. Someone else had set up a half-circle of votive candles around his bier.

Amalie sat in such a way that all she had to do was lift her eyes and she could see him.

Cammon sat next to her, Romar and Valri across from her. The captain of Romar’s guard stood stiffly behind the regent, and the Rider Janni, looking even worse than some of the dead, had taken up a place behind Amalie. Kirra was sitting next to Cammon, trying hard not to look at Romar. Senneth glanced around for Donnal, and saw a small spring hawk perched on one of the upper beams of the high-ceilinged room.

The raelynx lay on the floor a few feet away from Amalie, its chin pillowed on its outstretched forepaws, but its eyes still wide and curious. Everyone in the room occasionally sent the creature a look of fear or marvel, and Senneth had to guess that it had caused no little consternation as Amalie paced through the palace. But for now, it was quiescent. For now, Senneth thought, it has earned its place among us.

“Sen!” Kirra called, and waved them over. Senneth headed directly for the table, but Tayse strode first toward Baryn’s body. As Senneth slipped in place beside Valri, she watched over her shoulder to see Tayse drop to one knee and bow his head. Making his farewell to his king.

“Serra,” Romar greeted her. “Please share your thoughts. We are debating whether to hold a hasty coronation and name Amalie queen. Will that inflame the warring marlords or call the loyal ones to more decisive action?”

“There was always the fear that the marlords wouldn’t accept a nineteen-year-old girl on the throne. That’s why the king named a regent to begin with,” Kirra pointed out, addressing Senneth instead of Romar.

“I would still serve beside her. My title would just change from regent to advisor.”

Tayse came to stand behind Senneth as she addressed Amalie. “Majesty, what do you want to do?”

Amalie shifted in her seat. One of her hands was under the table, and Senneth was pretty sure it was caught in both of Cammon’s. “I think we need to worry about war first, and then titles,” she said in her soft voice. “Put our energy into battle.”

“More than one nation has gone to war over titles before,” Romar said.

Amalie shrugged a little. “Then I say we announce that I will remain princess for one year, with you at my side as regent. At the end of that time-assuming there is still a throne of Gillengaria to be had-we will have a ceremony to name me queen.”

Kirra was nodding. “That’s good. That offers a hope of continuity without a sense of fevered rushing. It shows judgment and a focus on priorities.”

Tayse spoke up in a heavy voice. “Majesty, there is something you cannot wait a year to do. You must release all the Riders from your employ.”

Senneth jerked around to stare at him, and everyone else let loose exclamations of surprise and dismay. Everyone except Janni, who was nodding.

“This is not the time to be casting off the finest fighting force in the kingdom!” Romar exclaimed.

“She has to,” Janni said. “Our vows are made only to the king. He is dead, and we have no fealty.”

“But none of you would harm Amalie!” Senneth said.

“Of course not,” Tayse said. “But the king-or the queen-selects his or her own Riders. There is a personal and close connection between the soldier and his liege. That connection does not transfer. Amalie must choose her own Riders-and they must choose her.”

In Amalie’s place, Senneth thought, she would have wailed, But I want all of you! But Amalie merely nodded, her tight face a little tighter, and said, “Then I release you, Tayse and Janni. You are free to serve any master or mistress you choose.”

At the same instant, both Riders dropped to their knees, bowing their heads and slapping their fists to their shoulders. “Majesty,” Janni said in a quiet voice. “If you will have me, I will serve you with my life. I will be loyal to you above all others-I will defend you against all dangers. I will not betray you till the end of the world itself.”

Amalie leaned forward and pressed her free hand to Janni’s shoulder. “Yes. I accept your vow. I welcome your fealty. I will trust you without reservation.”

“Majesty,” Tayse said. “If you will have me, I will offer you my life, my loyalty, my sword, my steadfastness. I will not betray you, and I will not fail you.”

He stayed where he was, head down, so Amalie shook herself free of Cammon’s hold, stood up, and circled the table to place her hand on Tayse’s head. “I accept your vow, I welcome your fealty, I will trust you without reservation.” She glanced between them. “You are now Queen’s Riders, and I will deliver my life into your keeping.”

Senneth felt her throat thicken as she strove to keep from weeping. She glanced at Kirra, who wasn’t even trying. Her blue eyes were huge with tears and her cheeks were wet with them. Such sad poetry on a day of such ugliness. The vows were like miniscule candles held up on a limitless field of black-the smallest, most hopeless attempts to beat back the night. Senneth glanced at Amalie as the princess took her seat again. She thought there was a touch more color in Amalie’s cheeks now, as if these protestations of faith had supplied the princess with an indefinable source of strength. Or maybe Amalie’s face just reflected the pale glow from the late afternoon sunlight, streaming in at an almost horizontal angle through the high windows, and had nothing at all to do with those gifts of love.


THEY stayed another hour in the makeshift funeral chapel, discussing options, reviewing losses. Romar’s captain, a dour man named Colton, and some of the other Riders had pieced together a theory of how the attack had been launched. The city guard had been deployed in a ring outside the city to keep an army from marching on the palace. But these foreign assassins had slipped into the city in ones and twos, over the course of a few days, dressed as ordinary Gillengaria merchants. They were already through the protective ring before the day had even dawned. Still wearing their regular wools and linens, they had slowly spread themselves around the palace walls, loitering until some agreed-upon hour. Then they cast off their disguises and climbed into the compound.

“We found hundreds of jackets and cloaks lying on the ground just outside the palace,” Colton told them.

It made sense, but it was hardly any comfort. And it was only the barest comfort that the Riders and the motley array of mystics had managed to hold off a force about four times their size until reinforcements arrived.

“Did any of the attackers survive?” Senneth said. “Are they being questioned?”

Romar nodded. “About a dozen. And yes. Two of them have already given us names-but the names are hardly surprising.”

“Halchon Gisseltess,” Senneth said wearily. She rubbed the back of her skull. Her head was pounding. She had not employed much of her magic today, since it had proved so ineffectual, but rage-oh, that had sung through her body like a form of ecstasy. Her worst headaches tended to come from a combination of sorcery and anger, but this one was bad enough. “And Rayson Fortunalt.”

Romar nodded again. “I think it’s time we reply to the letter marlord Halchon sent, asking for a conference with the king. We can tell him the princess is not interested in any terms and she will not yield her throne to him. That will let him know she is alive still.”

Senneth gave him a grave look. “It will be his signal to go to war.”

Romar shook his head. “He has already gone to war. It will merely signal that we are prepared to fight back.”

Kirra said, “We need to know where his armies are. And if any of our allies have more troops to send us.”

Romar nodded. “I thought perhaps you and some of your mystic friends might take wing and carry messages across the kingdom.”

“I won’t,” Kirra said instantly. “I’m staying here. But I’m sure Donnal will be willing, and some of Senneth’s recruits.”

“Because now,” Romar said, “we need information almost as much as we need reinforcements. And we desperately need both.”

At last it seemed there was nothing left to discuss, and continued speculation was not benefiting them at all. By this time it was dark, though whether early or late dark Senneth could not tell. She was so weary she would not have been surprised to learn they had passed the last year in the dining hall, talking, after spending an entire year in battle.

“I think, for all of us, food and rest,” Senneth said, feeling her whole body protest as she came to her feet.

“First Amalie must release the Riders,” Tayse said. “And we must determine a schedule for the night watch.”

“No night watch for you,” she protested. “You patrolled last night.”

He gave her a steady look from those dark eyes. “I am whole, and too many are not,” he said. “I will sleep early and take the later shift.”

If he considered it his duty to pursue that course, nothing she said would dissuade him. She sighed silently and followed the others from the room.

They encountered Justin in the hall, fetching supplies for Ellynor. Before Amalie had even opened her mouth, he dropped to his knees and offered his oath.

“Is it a mere formality, then?” Senneth whispered to Tayse as they proceeded. “All Riders pledge themselves to the new monarch?”

“No. In fact, there have been many instances in which virtually no Riders aligned themselves with a new ruler-and when a new ruler did not invite any standing Riders to ride under his banner. Those usually were cases when there was some tension between the king and his heir, for instance, or when most of the Riders actively disliked the new king or queen. But there are always some Riders who do not want to continue, for whatever reason. They are tired of the role, they are weary of the responsibility, they want to live a calmer life, or marry, or travel. There is no dishonor in declining to serve a new ruler. There is no shame in not being asked back to the royal court.”

“Sweet gods, I hope no one refuses Amalie today. I don’t know if we can spare another sword.”

He gave her an exceedingly sober smile. “No one will desert her. But some of them might relinquish their titles as Riders. They will stay till they are no longer needed, but they will no longer dedicate their lives to her protection.”

He was right, of course. They found about half of the Riders in the makeshift infirmary-the injured lying on their pallets or attempting to sit up, their healthier comrades doing what they could to ease them. Amalie glanced uncertainly at Tayse as they entered. He leaned down and murmured, “Approach them one by one. They will know why you are here.”

So she did, supported by Cammon and trailed by the raelynx. Senneth stayed by the door, leaning her aching head against the wall. She could not hear what passed between Amalie and the soldiers, but it was easy to tell how each case unfolded. Most of the Riders instantly swore their fealty to the princess. Even the hurt ones, those who could not kneel and bow their heads, put their shaky hands to their shoulders and whispered their oaths. But there were three or four who bowed their heads, and clasped their hands behind their backs, and gave Amalie a different answer.

“Will some of them change their minds?” Senneth asked Tayse. “Are they giving conditional responses?”

“Perhaps. We will know more once this war is over.”

She turned her head slightly to watch him. “So how does she find new Riders?”

“The news gets out among soldiers and civil guards-even mercenaries-and those who are interested will wend their way to the palace. Usually candidates are first assessed by other Riders before they are allowed to approach the king or queen. But sometimes royalty makes choices without any advice at all.”

“Yes, but-I mean, how? Amalie will be giving these people power over her life. She will allow them free run of the palace. How can she possibly know, after a few minutes’ conversation, if a stranger is someone she can trust?”

His smile was faint. “Ah, perhaps that is the magic inherent in the crown. In all the history of Gillengaria, there is no story about a king or a queen who has chosen Riders unwisely. Is it that only honorable men and women seek the office of Rider? Is the monarch blessed by the gods with some supernatural powers of perception?”

“Are the stories truly complete?” she asked with some acerbity.

His smile widened. “I like to believe they are.” His gaze went to the princess and her small entourage. “In Amalie’s case, she will have Cammon to guide her. I cannot imagine she will chose ill.”

Senneth shook her head. “One more hard task that falls to her all at once. I hope she is not crushed under her responsibilities.”

“We are here to support her,” he said softly. “But I think she is strong enough to survive it.”


ONCE they had toured the sickroom, Senneth insisted Amalie come to the smaller dining hall for a rather slapdash meal. Some of the servants had died in the day’s assault, and the rest were understandably traumatized, and Senneth was grateful that the cooks managed to assemble a meal at all. It was a simple buffet, and there were signs that Valri, Romar, and a few others had been at the table before them.

Riders continued to seek them out for the next half hour, presenting themselves, being released from service, and then either offering their fealty or calmly stating that they planned to leave once the princess had found their replacements.

“That’s everyone,” Tayse said when Coeval exited after swearing his loyalty. Apparently Tayse had had better luck keeping track of the numbers than Senneth had. “Except the three who were too injured to speak. Majesty, ask them again tomorrow.”

Amalie nodded. She looked so tired Senneth thought she might tip over and bury her face in her platter of food. “And then? Tomorrow? What else must I do?”

“We will know when tomorrow arrives,” Senneth said gently. She tugged on Amalie’s shoulder. “Come. To bed with you. If you don’t think you will be able to sleep, Kirra can make up a potion.”

“She’ll sleep,” Cammon said.

Senneth glanced at him. He had not been more than a step away from the princess since they came running back from the garden with the raelynx in tow. Clearly the connection between them had intensified during the days Senneth had been gone, but she found herself deeply reluctant to discover how far their relationship had progressed. She kept remembering Tayse’s comment: Amalie would be safe if Cammon were sleeping by her side. After today, Amalie’s safety mattered much more than Amalie’s virginity.

“I will be grateful if you, indeed, will use your magic to help her relax,” Senneth said. “But what of the raelynx? Are we to attempt to cage him again for the night?”

“No,” Amalie said. “He will stay with me.”

Of course she should protest, Senneth thought, but the raelynx had certainly earned its right to freedom today. And if danger did manage to force its way through Amalie’s door, the raelynx would almost certainly pounce on it and kill it. And eat it.

“Then, Majesty, I will see you in the morning.”

True to his word, Tayse accompanied Senneth back to the cottage to sleep at least some portion of the night. She had overheard him making murmured plans with his fellow Riders, dividing up the shifts. There had never been a hope he would be comfortable allowing ordinary soldiers the solemn responsibility of guarding the palace.

At the cottage, they had water enough to bathe, and Senneth heated it to the point where it almost blistered the skin. In silence, they took turns discarding their ruined clothing, washing themselves thoroughly, and climbing into bed. Not until Tayse put his arms around her did Senneth feel she could find even the most fleeting moment of real peace.

“In the morning, you will have to tell your mother that Tir is dead,” she said. “And tell your sisters.”

“And let them know the city is not safe. They can take refuge with my aunt.”

“Your mother will be heartbroken, I think. I am convinced she still loved him, despite the fact that she left him so long ago.”

She felt him shrug slightly. He was a dutiful son, but his mother exerted no pull on him, as she had exerted no pull on Tir after the first few years of their doomed marriage. Tayse changed the subject. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” she said. “How’s your heart?”

“Hurts.”

“If I’m not better in the morning, I’ll ask you to scare away my headache,” she said. “But Tayse, my love, my dearest one, I do not know how to scare away your pain.”

“These are losses too great for magic to heal,” he said. “I know my father’s only regret about his death would be that it did not save the king. If it had, he would have gladly given his life.”

“And that is how you want to die someday, is it not?” she murmured into his chest. “Defending Amalie? Or her son or daughter?”

He was silent a moment. “Once that would have been true,” he said. “Now I want to live as long as you are alive, and die when you are not. And if I do not fall in battle, but instead die when I am an old man, bent and crippled and useless, except that you still love me, then I will consider that a better death than my father’s.”

She was so stunned she almost could not answer. Tayse was so much a soldier that she had always accepted she had been grafted onto his life. Important to him, essential even-transcendent-but only a part of his life, not the center, not the whole. “Oh, then I have to hope that is what happens,” she whispered. “That you are ancient and demented and blind, and everyone despises you, and laughs at you behind your back, and cannot believe you have lived so long. But I will still love you. I will be glad to see you, every time your scowling face comes into view.”

That made him smile, as she hoped it would. “And you will be a doddering old woman yourself, mumbling around the house, constantly setting small unintentional fires and causing the curtains to go up in flames. We will have to live in a house of stone, so it doesn’t burn down around our heads. We will be buying new furnishings every week and my eyebrows will be singed off my face. But I will still love you.”

Now she was giggling, and laughter felt so good, so hopeful, when weighed against all the misery of the day. She tightened her arms around him, felt the strength of his body even through his exhaustion and sadness. “War will come, and heartache and betrayal, and friends will die and all of Gillengaria may be lost, and I will still love you,” she said against his mouth. “And if I accidentally set your hair on fire in a few years’ time, well, let me just say now that I didn’t mean to do it. Unless you made me angry, of course, but even then I will only make a little fire. Hardly enough to hurt you.”

“And who could mind that?” he said. “I look forward to a happy old age.”

She snuggled against him even more closely. “I hope we live to see it.”

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