These men thought they were shadows, but she actually was.
A new angle gave her cause for further alarm. One man held out a vial. Small. Dark. He held the cork stopped down with a gloved thumb as if he was fearful of what might escape. The two others—both men, because the other kingdoms still had yet to learn they would be stronger with women in uniform—leaned in, voices low. Though they were on the Myrcell side of the camp, these three wore rich brown tunics. Basilica.
“… a surefire way to get us killed. And if not, the horses who know not to stay away, or the fish we should be eating—”
“But if it works, we won’t be here long at all.” This from the man holding the vial. He was barely old enough to be a man, not even the hint of whiskers catching the light. “Ardenia will be defenseless and we’ll be on the move.”
“Yes, right after we wipe out this water source and every living creature around it.”
“That’s too destructive.”
“What do you think war is, Toma?” the soldier holding the vial snapped at the conservative one.
“A single dose in a kettle would be—”
“Death. It would mean death. Ardenia does not sleep. We’d be caught.”
As they continued to argue, something else tugged at Koldo’s mind. Not intuition but familiarity.
Sunset hair. Green eyes. A final gasp.
Two steps and Koldo was an arm’s length away, sword cutting down at the soldier closest, farthest to the left. The Basilican steel didn’t stutter as it drove through the meat of his neck, slicing through skin, muscle, windpipe, and spine, and back out the other side.
With a spray and thud, his head landed at the feet of the one in the middle—who held the vial and the most destructive ideals. The soldier looked into Koldo’s eyes a moment before Seme’s tip plunged through the soft meat of his belly. A whisper of canvas from his brown tunic grazed her sword hilt for a moment before she placed a boot to the boy’s chest for leverage to remove it.
Sword and boot heel released, the soldier’s legs gave way and he fell forward. As the man went down, she snatched the blasted vial from his stunned hands. His body hit awkwardly, spinning his partner’s detached head into a feeble roll toward Koldo. She stopped it with a boot toe and then relieved the fallen soldier of his head as well.
The third soldier stood there, mouth hanging open but no sound coming out. His eyes were saucer wide, the whites catching weak light from the Ardenian camp behind her. His whole being quivered, attention pinned on the two heads before him.
“Scream and you lose your life.”
The soldier’s lips snapped shut. His eyes met hers.
The general held out the vial. “Where did you get this? Who gave it to you?”
The soldier’s jaw worked. It was the man who’d shown mercy. She’d already forgotten the name the other soldier had used for him. Enemies didn’t have names.
“I—orders from our officer.” The soldier’s eyes didn’t waver. The truth, then.
Poison was one way to start a war. That much had been done. But to win one? That was a coward’s game.
Without a word, Koldo slipped the vial into her pocket.
The soldier seemed to relax, having expected a death blow the moment he answered.
A mistake.
Koldo grabbed each fallen soldier’s head with a gloved hand and tossed them both at the man, who bobbled the first and caught the second, his reflexes overcoming his surprise.
“Deliver a head to each camp as a warning. A preemptive strike is a declaration of war. And neither Basilica nor Myrcell can survive the Ardenian army.”
The soldier began to back away but then halted. “Which? They are—were—both of Basilica.”
Koldo blinked at the man. “I do not care who you choose to toss where, only that my point is made. No war, not yet. If either camp comes into Ardenian territory again, we will not leave a single soldier standing.”
Orders understood, the soldier turned, running first toward Myrcell, rather than toward his camp and the Ardenian grouping he’d have to cross to get to it.
When he was gone, Koldo turned, the weight of the vial in her pocket.
The Ardenian camp was no closer to waking when she returned. Yet her second, Captain Xixi, was stationed outside the general’s tent, a mug of something steaming in her hands.
“Is everything all right, General Koldo?” the woman asked in a whisper.
“It is now, Captain.” Koldo stowed her sword. She’d clean the blood from the blade later. “I must return to Ardenia. Do not strike until you hear from me. Do not engage. Keep to the camp, except to gather water—a mile upstream into Ardenia. Do not drink here.”
The woman had been at Koldo’s side for nearly twenty years. She silently cataloged every single thing her commander said with a nod.
“Captain, you have command.”
The woman took that command with another duck of her head. “I’ll have the grooms ready your horse, General.”
Xixi left, straight to the horses, and Koldo entered her tent and swept the map of the Sand and Sky into a roll. When she blinked, her dream remained on the backs of her eyelids.
Those soldiers’ lives had bought her time. She only hoped it would be enough.
CHAPTER
41
AS the first rays of dawn hit the military camp nestled between the Torrent and the Pyrenee border, Ula was wide awake and agitated.
She hated this assignment.
She hated that they hadn’t been paid yet and therefore couldn’t leave.
She hated that she liked Luca and even more that she liked the princess.
She hated that they couldn’t be together and that she had an opinion about such matters.
Because it all added up to a queasy sensation in her stomach that made her feel as if she was on completely the wrong side of things.
The princess was still asleep in their tent, having tossed and turned for hours on end before sleep finally took her. Osana was asleep as well, cradling her sword like a lover—Osana and she were alike in that way. Ula got to her feet, strapped her sword to her back, and exited the tent.
Purple-cloaked men were up and moving, stoking a fire. She felt their eyes snap to her form as she slid out of the tent. Pyrenee did not conscript its women like Ardenia; thus, its military was completely male. Which meant this camp was made up of fifty men a hundred miles from home and the women they held dear.
“Hey there, honeypot, what will you give me for the first cup of coffee?” asked a boy no older than Dunixi as he tended to a kettle hung above revived flames.
Ula bared her teeth. “Call me ‘honeypot’ again and I’ll give you one less hand to hold your coffee cup.”
The man next to him laughed and elbowed his friend as he scowled. “Oh, I think she likes you! Anger is how they show love in the Torrent.”
Ula ignored them, spying Urtzi across camp, relieving himself against a tree. She waited for him to finish before stepping in behind him.
“We need to talk.”
He simply grunted in response—never a morning person, Urtzi.
“Grab Dunixi and meet me by my horse.”
Five minutes later, the pirates were together, standing in the cool shadow of Ula’s gray mare, Laya.
“Why are we still here? We should leave. Now.”