“Are you a trained soldier, Your Highness?”
He cut me off so sharply he may as well have slapped me. The sting hissed through the air. So this was how it was to be? I leaned forward, my palms flat on the table, and met his stare. “Yes, I am, Captain, though perhaps trained with a different eye than yours.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, sitting back in his chair, his tone ripe with disdain. “That’s right. The Morrighese army does do things a little differently. It must have something to do with that gift of yours.” He shot a grin at an officer next to him. “Go ahead, then. Why don’t you tell us just what you think you saw?”
The ass. Apparently Rafe’s claim of me as his future queen carried little weight with the captain—as long as the king wasn’t present—but I couldn’t let my pride nor contempt keep me from sharing what they needed to know. So I told them everything I knew about the army city.
“A hundred thousand armed soldiers is a staggering claim,” he said when I finished. “Especially for a people as backward as the barbarians.”
“They are not so backward,” I countered. “And the men I rode in with, Kaden and Griz, can confirm what I’ve told you.”
Captain Hague rose from his chair, his face splotched with sudden color. “May I remind you, Your Highness, we have just lost twenty-eight men to the barbarians. The only way we’ll be gathering information from savages like them will be at the end of a knotted whip.”
I leaned forward. “And it is clear you would prefer to gain it from me in the same way.”
Captain Azia laid a hand on Hague’s arm and whispered something to him. Hague sat down.
“Please understand, Your Highness,” Azia said, “the loss of the platoon has been a bitter blow to all of us, especially to Captain Hague. One of his cousins was a soldier in the unit.”
My hands slid from the table, and I stood straight, taking a calming breath. I understood grief. “My condolences, Captain. I’m sorry for your loss. But please make no mistake. I owe a debt to the men you slander, and if they are not invited to our table, do not expect to see me there either.”
His wiry brows fell low over his eyes. “I will convey your wishes to Colonel Bodeen.”
I was just turning to leave when a door at the back of the room opened and Colonel Bodeen, along with Sven, Rafe, and Tavish emerged. They startled when they saw me, and Rafe’s eyes turned briefly sharp as if I had undermined him.
“I was just leaving,” I said. “It seems you’ve already taken care of matters here.”
I was out the door and halfway down the stairs before Rafe stepped out on the veranda and stopped me. “Lia, what’s wrong?”
“I thought we were going to meet with the officers together.”
He shook his head, his expression apologetic. “You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. But I told them everything you told me.”
“About the silos?”
“Yes.”
“The brezalots?”
“Yes.”
“The size of the army?”
“Yes, I told them everything.”
Everything. There were some things even I might have held back. “The traitors on the Morrighese court?”
He nodded. “I had to, Lia.”
Of course he did. But I could only imagine how it lowered their regard for Morrighan and me even further. I came from a court roiling with snakes.
I sighed. “They didn’t seem to believe anything I said about the Vendan army.”
He reached out and took my hand. “If they seem skeptical, it’s because they’ve never encountered barbarian patrols that numbered more than a dozen before—but I told them what I saw too, the armed and organized brigade of at least five hundred that led you into Venda. Trust me, we’re evaluating the measures that need to be taken, especially now with the deaths of an entire—”
I let out a soft groan. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten off to a bad start with your officers, and Captain Hague already dislikes me intensely. I didn’t realize one of the dead was his cousin. He and I had a bit of a clash in there.”
“Bad news or not, Captain Hague is always a pill best taken with strong ale. At least that’s what Sven tells me. I know the man only in passing.”
“Sven’s right. He made it clear he had no respect for the Morrighese army, and he scorned the gift as well. I was as welcome in there as a skinned knee. Why in the gods’ names did Dalbreck ever want me if they had no regard for First Daughters and the gift?”
Rafe seemed momentarily stunned, his shoulders pulling back as if my question unsettled him. He quickly recovered. “The captain insulted you. I’ll speak to him.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please don’t. The last thing I want is to look like an injured child who ran tattling to the king. We’ll work it out.”
He nodded and brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll try to wrap up these meetings as soon as I can.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
A weary grimace lined his eyes, and he told me that a lot more had transpired in his absence besides his parents’ deaths. With no strong leadership, the assembly and cabinet had been warring. Certain egos had flared, generals were questioning the chain of command, and fear over the scourge that had killed the queen had affected commerce—all while they were keeping the king’s death a secret from the rest of the world. There were battles waiting for Rafe on every front once he got back to the palace.
“When will that be, Rafe?” I hated to push the point, especially now, but I had no choice. “You know that Morrighan still needs to be warned. That I need to—”
“I know, Lia. Please just give me a few days to deal with all this first. Then we can talk about—”
Sven poked his head out the door. “Your Majesty,” he said, rolling his eyes toward the room behind him, “they grow restless.”
Rafe glanced back in my direction, lingering like he never wanted to leave. I saw the shadows that still lurked under his eyes. He’d only had a few hours of sleep when he needed a week, and had been granted only a passing moment of mourning when he needed far more. All he asked from me was a few days to juggle his new role as king, but a few days seemed like a luxury Morrighan couldn’t afford.
I nodded, and he turned and disappeared behind the door with Sven before I could even say good-bye.
* * *
I hooked the last buckle of the bodice and adjusted the belt. I was grateful that Vilah and Adeline had brought me more practical clothes—a split leather skirt, jerkin, and shirt—but they were no less luxurious than the gown I had worn last night. The embossed brown leather was so supple it felt like it might melt between my fingers.
The old broken and knotted laces had been replaced on my newly cleaned boots, and Walther’s baldrick was snug against my chest, gleaming like the day Greta had given it to him.
“A family heirloom?” Vilah asked.
They both looked at me tentatively as if they’d read something painful in my expression when I put it on. They were as kind as Captain Hague was nasty. I smiled and nodded, trying to erase any sadness they had seen. “I’m ready.”