We fell silent, words too much like paltry shadows compared to the sheer presence of one another, and he lifted me gently onto the rope bed and its lumpy mattress. I leaned back, pulling him onto me, closer, ever closer. I shut my eyes and surrendered to that closeness, and let our bodies bind us like strong cords or the gold chains that had bound our wrists when Theodor had proposed.
I fell asleep wrapped under thick wool blankets that smelled of hay and Theodor’s arms swathed in linen that smelled, faintly, of his clove pomade.
14
WE WERE UP BEFORE THE SUN HAD FINISHED RISING, THE RAPID tattoo of reveille rattling the windows and jarring me from the warm comfort of Theodor’s arms. A pitchy fife joined the cacophony like a soprano rooster, demanding everyone begin their day.
“You start to hate that song,” Theodor said, buttoning his waistcoat quickly against the early morning chill.
“I think I might hate it already,” I said. “Where did you find a fifer?”
“He plays the tin whistle, I think. The fife is still a bit of a stretch for him. He’s trying to train some others.” Theodor winced as the melody scraped flat. “Fortunately the bayonet drill is improving far more rapidly.”
I had little enough in the way of clothes, and no bedgown or wrapper to put on, so I snatched Theodor’s spare waistcoat, identical to the one he wore, and buttoned it over half-laced stays.
“I had to leave all my clothes behind. I’m going to need some wool at some point for a gown,” I said as Theodor raised an eyebrow at my ensemble.
“Lucky for you we have a wide assortment. As long as you like gray and red,” he said. I hesitated—the broadcloth that made regimental coats wouldn’t work well for a gown. “I think you can make an exception for wearing one of your charms given that it may be your only option,” he added gently.
“No, you mistake me,” I said. My old qualms about wearing my own charms had faded, given that I could draw and use one anytime I wished. “That weight of wool will be difficult to work into a gown. Though I suppose I could work up a riding habit.”
“Make it gray wool with red facings, just like the military coats,” Theodor suggested eagerly. “It will be a symbol of your importance here.”
Though a riding habit was a practical solution, it would take long hours of careful tailoring and—I sighed just thinking about it—rows and rows of neatly made buttonholes. “I can’t help but feel there are better uses for my time than sewing something so—frivolous.”
Theodor paused as he fastened his knee buckles, met my eyes, and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but it’s just—last time this year, what were you doing?”
“Probably stitching some frivolous trim onto a frivolous silk gown,” I said, between hiccups of laughter, “with a frivolous love charm sewn into it!”
In echo to the drums outside, a fist pounded our door. “We’re up,” Theodor called. “Getting dressed.”
“Don’t want to know,” Kristos said. I laughed and lazily pulled stockings over cold feet, imagining his reddening face as he talked through the door. “Come downstairs as soon as you can. Messenger from Niko Otni.” I quickened my pace, and Theodor threw his coat on without finishing with his waistcoat buttons.
We crowded into the kitchen, the warmest room in the house, with its expansive hearth pouring heat from coals banked overnight and roused into flames first thing in the morning. On a squat three-legged stool by the hearth sat Fig. Someone had given him a mug of tea and some bread and butter; he looked more like a farm boy having breakfast before feeding the chickens than a wartime messenger in an army’s headquarters.
“Why, Fig! I shouldn’t be surprised,” I said. His tired face drew itself into a smile and he sat a little straighter.
“You know this one?” Sianh said.
“Alba and I made his acquaintance in Galitha City,” I answered.
“Then I suppose you’re vetted,” Kristos said.
“He wasn’t one of yours?” I asked. “From last winter?” There had been boys and youths, always, hanging on to the Red Caps when they could.
“Ma said I was too young to run round with the Red Caps,” Fig said. “But that was before the war.”
“And now no one is too young,” suggested Alba.
“We were not sure if he was truly from the army in the city,” Sianh said, “as he does not bring any seals or signatures or any sort of verifiable written messages.”
“Written messages can get captured,” Fig announced proudly. So, I thought to myself, could thirteen-year-old boys. I didn’t want to consider what the Royalists might be willing to do to a Reformist partisan to gain intelligence, regardless of his age.
“What’s the news?” Theodor said, voicing the same question I had.
“The city holds,” Fig said first, adeptly sensing the tension in the room. “We’re still open to the river and they haven’t started a siege or nothing yet.”
“Yet?” Alba said.
“We anticipate a siege being their eventual strategy,” Sianh said, his brow knitting and pulling at the pale scar along his cheek. “Unless the troops in the city surrendered or made a very foolish mistake, there is no other way to take Galitha City by force.”
“The terrain just outside the walls is uneven and heavily forested on most sides,” Theodor said. “It’s extremely defensible—artillery can’t get a good purchase without excavation and building entrenchments, and that, of course, takes time. But if they focus on the city…” Theodor sighed. “They would eventually breach the walls if a siege goes unchecked.”
“That’s right.” Fig glanced at his half-eaten bread and decided that now wouldn’t be a good time to tear off a hunk. “Niko says now’s the time to cut them off. He wants you to move your troops to the city. Has to be overland. Port’s thoroughly blockaded.”
“Damn it.” Kristos threw his cap on the table. “I’d hoped they’d be busier patrolling our coast—shit, I’d hoped that maybe more of the crews would mutiny and take some of their force out of commission.”
Alba quietly took Fig’s cup and refilled his tea. “They pay ’em too well,” Fig said, accepting the hot tea. “A few defected to us, but sailors are a strange lot. Loyal to their captains. And their captains are treating them right—paying them bonuses, sharing out the prize money on captures.”
“How very democratic of them,” I said.
Theodor cracked a smile. “If only more of them understood how to apply it to politics, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” His smile faded. “I don’t think we can give Niko what he’s asking for.”
“It would be a foolish maneuver. Even if we could move thousands of troops overland and aid the city without being challenged, a large contingent of the Royalist army is at Rock’s Ford. They would cut us off from behind and swiftly undo our work—and put us in position to force our surrender,” Sianh said. “If they did not annihilate us before we even arrived.”
“So you’re going to leave the city to fend for itself?” Fig said. His fingers drew tight around his mug of tea, the knuckles whitening. “Niko was worried you’d be selfish.”