“And you will marry me?” Renard pressed.
Amarande closed her eyes, sword lowered, and she squeezed Luca’s hand. Of all the hurt possible here, this was likely the least painful. Because he knew she loved him, and that was something.
“Yes.” Her answer was loud enough that every one of them could hear it. There was no mistaking what she’d said.
The prince drew in a sharp breath of relief.
“Nikola,” he said to an ox-shouldered guard in Pyrenee purple, “relieve my fiancée of her sword and her stableboy of his dagger. The rest of you, into position. Let’s not waste any time in escorting them straight to Pyrenee.”
There was a smile in his voice and triumph in the way he held his shoulders. When the princess opened her eyes, she saw that beside him, Taillefer was obviously grinning. She thought of him in the meadow, scheming for his brother’s crown, and she wondered if she’d just helped him complete a milestone in his long con.
If she had, so be it.
She could only do what was best for her, and what was best for her in that moment was what was best for Luca. They could be together in death, but there was no way she would leave him to suffer so beforehand. Not to mention what might happen to her kingdom. The rest of the pieces would fall as they may.
“It will be all right,” she whispered to Luca. She could feel him nod at her back.
The guards filled in around them, placing them at the center of a large moving diamond. Renard made it a point to slip in right next to the princess and her love. The prince eyed their closeness—Amarande could feel him take in the way Luca’s hands rested about her waist and how she kept a hand over his as they were stripped of their blades.
“You know, I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps the princess should ride with me.”
Amarande immediately scowled. “May I remind you what happened last time I came within an inch of your sword, my prince?”
Renard’s mouth ticked up. “That does not sound like going quietly, my love.” He caught eyes with his brother. “But perhaps you’re right and we should give each other space until our wedding night.” Amarande rolled her eyes. “Taillefer, would you take the stableboy hostage on your horse?”
“Gladly.”
Amarande didn’t want to be separated from Luca, but if they couldn’t ride together, this was likely the best scenario to keep her fury from fueling something rash involving that stupid bejeweled sword. Taillefer pulled his horse in next to the princess and ordered Luca onto his mount, a white stallion very much like his brother’s.
When Luca was firmly bound and in place on Taillefer’s saddle, the younger prince moved to Renard’s other side. The rest of the group shuffled in around them. As places were finalized, Amarande locked eyes with Taillefer, who winked. Brutal boy. Then she looked Renard dead in the eye.
“My prince, as long as my Luca lives, I promise not to kill you.”
“All right, my love,” Renard said. But then he laughed at her seriousness.
And that was his mistake.
CHAPTER
38
BY the time the sun sank into the horizon over their shoulders, they’d come to the base of the mountains that separated Pyrenee from the Torrent. They looked almost exactly like Amarande’s mountains, the ones that cradled the Itspi. If she squeezed her eyes tight enough, she almost believed she was headed home and not being death marched into her very worst nightmare.
But her father had taught her never to dismiss reality.
And so the princess’s eyes stayed open as they closed in, and as the base of the mountain range sharpened, so did the reality of the situation. They weren’t alone. The knife’s edge of war, discussed in theory in the Itspi’s council room, was now a tangible thing, made up by camps of Pyrenee soldiers stretched across the range—purple bruises clouding the pass. Koldo faced double the threat to the south. Amarande had no qualms that somewhere very close were her own soldiers, guided by one of Koldo’s seconds. Close enough to make a statement, far enough to be ignorant to her presence.
A smile slid across Prince Renard’s face as the first Pyrenee camp came into focus. “Look at those fine soldiers. They will make us proud, my love.”
“Call me by my name, or this is all you shall hear of my voice until you do,” Amarande spat, not looking at him. She kept her eyes forward, taking in the line of soldiers with a warrior’s eye. This camp held fifty men at least; the next fires on the line were a mile away. The border of the Pyrenee stretched a hundred miles through the mountains flush with Ardenia. That meant thousands of men guarding the border, awaiting orders. There would be more behind them; these camps were simply the line in the sand. If she were to run, she’d have every one of them on her back, chasing her in something that would appear very much like the sort of invasion meant to start a war.
“You choose your fights over the most trivial of things, my love.”
Amarande bit her tongue so she wouldn’t shoot back that all of her fights with him had been over things of great importance to her, things that he, in his privilege and greed, would never understand. To snap at him now would be to undermine herself. She was grateful when Taillefer’s fox laugh broke in.
“That’s perfect, Renard!” Taillefer exclaimed from his spot on the other side. Luca watched with a blank face, his shoulders hunched forward in their binding against the younger prince’s back. “Simply call her ‘my love’ whenever you tire of the princess’s insults, and you’ll immediately make them stop. A tip for a happy marriage from your clever little brother.”
Amarande caught eyes with Luca. She knew he’d understand her expression—I want to murder them all.
But she couldn’t. Which was partially why they were in this mess.
Renard’s aubergine-clad guards led the group toward the first of the camps so that there’d be no mistaking that they were friendly. Still, the leader—a general, based on the stars along his collar—met them at the camp’s edge, following the proper protocol.
“Prince Renard, Your Highness, I was unaware you were visiting the front line.”
“It was quite unplanned, General—”
“Tousette, sir.”
“Very good. General Tousette, myself and my men have been on an excursion into the Torrent, rescuing Princess Amarande from the misguided attentions of a commoner in her employ.”
Amarande’s mouth opened to refute this, but Renard’s hand was heavy upon her shoulder, quick as a lightning strike. “The princess has had quite a shock and is extremely exhausted. We must forge back to the Bellringe in the morning, for we are to be married tomorrow night.” All the saliva left the princess’s mouth. Tomorrow? That couldn’t be. “We would greatly appreciate it if we could fold into your camp for the night, and rest our weary bones.”
“It would be an honor, Your Highness. Beds and supper shall be yours within the hour.”
“Good man, Tousette.”
And then the general was off, barking orders. His men whipped into action around him, restructuring their tent city to fit a prince.
Renard seemed to delight in so many men scurrying around at his direction. The soldiers moved like ghosts in the twilight, a blur of aubergine and white that faded to gray in the smudge of remaining sun. Amarande squeezed her reins, trying very hard not to punch him in the face.