Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,105
lot.”
Pietyr turns his nose up. “How can she swallow that untainted food? Just the scent of such blandness turns my stomach. She is no poisoner.” He fumbles with the straps and curses. “This armor is not worth the beast killed to make it!”
Billy sighs and sets down the spoon of oatmeal and bit of cheese. He wants to point out that his armor is no better but glances at Pietyr’s shaking hands and goes to help him instead.
“If I were fighting beside my Katharine, I would be in queensguard armor. Shining silver from helm to heel.”
“Would you rather be there, then? Fighting with your Katharine?”
Pietyr frowns as Billy tightens a buckle. “Of course I would. I would be by her side to the end, no matter the odds. But my Katharine no longer exists.”
“But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least her body. Her face. Maybe you’ll change your mind when you see her and try to change sides.”
“What is your point?” Pietyr asks, eyes narrowed.
“Only that I’ll put a knife in you if you try.” He finishes with the shoulder guards and steps back. Then he slaps the front of Pietyr’s chest. “Or maybe I’m saying that you’re a brave man for fighting in spite of it.”
Pietyr tugs on the armor, testing the fit. “You seem to be prattling on this morning. More so than usual. Are you afraid?”
Billy shrugs. He can feel every drop of blood racing inside his skin and every heartbeat that tries to keep up with it. He is afraid. And he knows that Pietyr is as well, no matter how he tries to mask it with disdain.
“I suppose I am,” he says, and feels some of that fear drain away with the admission. “But not so much as I’m angry. Today I avenge my father’s murder and the murder of my friends. Today my strange time on Fennbirn comes to an end.”
“You mean to go up against Rho Murtra,” says Pietyr. “You are a fool.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll be weighed down by all that fancy queensguard armor and I’ll land a lucky strike.”
Pietyr says nothing. He shakes his head and picks up his sword, and Billy follows him out to the horses.
When Arsinoe gets to Jules’s tent, she makes sure to loudly clear her throat and allow plenty of time before entering, in case she is walking into something private. But inside, Jules and Emilia are already awake, seated on the ground with Camden lying in between them. Across the camp, the morning has started to turn blue, showing the capital city to the south and the towers of the Volroy, which Arsinoe could feel staring down at her even through the blackness.
“Thank the Goddess,” says Jules, and smiles. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“You know me.” Arsinoe ducks inside. “Always cut it close. Always make an entrance.”
“So you’ve done it,” Emilia says. “You have her?” She peers around Arsinoe in the dim.
“Even if I did, she wouldn’t be with me. Why does everyone always think I have everything in my pocket?” She frowns. “But I don’t. She wasn’t there. The cave was empty.”
“But that was our best hope,” says Jules.
“No it wasn’t.” Emilia gets to her feet. “It was desperation. A move made out of fear. But we never needed the help of a dead queen. We are not like Katharine.”
She sounds certain. She sounds like a leader. Not for the first time, Arsinoe wonders how it is that they have gotten here, laying siege to Indrid Down. It was not so long ago that she and Mirabella were at Billy’s brick row house on the mainland or that she was in Wolf Spring, drinking ale at the Lion’s Head.
The tent flap opens again; it is Mathilde, come to rouse them.
“Katharine’s army is moving.”
“Did you see it in a vision?” asks Jules.
“I saw it with my eyes,” Mathilde replies.
“Raise the call,” Emilia orders. “Form the lines. We will join you at the front.”
Mathilde disappears behind the falling tent flap. The sound of the low horns and the responding rush of movement send a chill down Arsinoe’s back.
Jules stands and stretches alongside her cougar as Emilia gathers their weapons. Both are already in their armor. Camden will wear armor, too, specially crafted to fit her. Arsinoe wants to throw herself across the cat’s lean, furry body at the thought of the arrows and wielded blades.
“Do you think I should have brought Braddock?”
“I think a great brown bear is worth a regiment of