Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,107

pitiful mainlander.”

“That’s exactly what I want. Please.”

“All right!” Emilia throws up her hands. “I will try. But there are never any guarantees in battle.”

“Thank you.” To both of their surprises, Arsinoe leaps forward and hugs her. Briefly.

“Ah well,” says Emilia. “It is to be expected, I suppose. Always like a boy, to be in need of protection.”

THE BATTLEFIELD

Katharine sits astride her stallion when Genevieve rides up on her black gelding, both Genevieve and the horse outfitted in poisoner purple and skulls over silver armor.

“We have managed to draw the rebels down and to the west,” Genevieve says. “They have given up the good ground to the north.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Paola Vend says as her mount trots up beside her. “They are untrained. Made up of farmers and laborers. Innkeepers. Their numbers are large, but they will prove to be of no use with no one capable of leading them.”

Katharine looks out upon her army. They hold formation and perfect position. Across the battlefield, the force they face is nowhere near as polished. Their armor is motley and lacking. Some have only a breastplate and no arm guards. Many have no helmets. The tips of their spears waver in the air instead of holding high and upright. But within that army are naturalists and elementals, oracles and warriors. Over their heads, hawks and crows circle and cry. Dogs growl at their sides, and their horses stamp angrily with no need to be urged forward. Fire flickers across knuckles, and clouds gather above. The warriors’ arrows will never miss, and the oracles will know the moves of their opponents before they themselves do.

“They are soldiers of every gift,” Katharine says.

“A legion-cursed army for a legion-cursed queen,” says Genevieve.

Katharine swallows. Somewhere out there is Juillenne Milone, the Legion Queen returned, sent by the Goddess to exact her vengeance, and who Mirabella would have fought beside. But Mirabella is dead. If she were not, it could all have been different.

Inside Katharine, the only thing that races is her pulse. She sent so many of the dead queens into Rho that she is nearly empty, so she knows that the cowardly sweat that breaks onto her forehead is hers and hers alone. She squeezes the reins hard in her hands.

“Your sister Arsinoe will be out there, somewhere,” Paola says. “She turned away from the crown during the Ascension, when she had a right to it. Only to ride on the side of a rebellion and try to steal it from your head.”

“If she can take it, she can have it,” Katharine says, and Genevieve and Paola look at her in surprise.

In the distance to the right, the queensguard parts before a figure on a hulking black horse. From where they stand, Rho’s face is not visible, nor her black eyes or the black veins stretched across her like spiderwebs. Only her red braid and the waves of something dark that emanate from her form almost like mist.

“What is that?” Genevieve asks.

Katharine presses her lips together grimly.

“That is Rho.”

Arsinoe reaches down and strokes the neck of her horse with a shaking hand. “Are you a good horse?” she asks. He seems a good one, tall and long-legged, with bright eyes and a smart face. His coat is a deep brown from head to tail, except for two white socks on his forelegs. That was why she chose him. The socks reminded her of Billy and his many, many pairs back on the mainland.

She runs her hand down his withers and traces the lines of his armor. It seems there is too much vulnerable flesh exposed. Too much exposed on all of them. She looks to her left, across the hills to where Jules and Emilia wait for the charge. She wishes she were there. But she has one task and one task only and that is to reach Katharine.

Still, she is not alone. Mathilde is with her and Gilbert Lermont, and the troops behind them are vast. Hopefully vast enough to batter a hole right through the opposing queensguard when they charge. Arsinoe will hold back to see where Katharine goes.

“We’ll have to be fast,” Arsinoe whispers to the horse. “And I’ll try my best not to get you killed if you will do the same. You probably have no idea what I’m saying. But all those years of naturalist training have to amount to something.”

There is a jostling in the soldiers near her, and Billy appears, riding through with none other than Pietyr Renard on