A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,120
looked exactly like the guise Isa wore at Court, though I couldn’t quite convey her disdain for everything and everyone she came across. I hoped no one would pay close attention to my threadbare cloak.
I snuck out of Sher n’Cai through the caves and walked right into the Queen’s Army camp. A fair amount of soldiers were still awake, but no one stopped me as I searched for the tent that could possibly be Isa’s.
It was as if I were being pulled through the camp, a puppet on a string, until I finally stopped before an emerald tent. A flag with a slim blade wrapped in ivy hung from a pike stuck in the ground outside.
Casting a furtive look at the nearby soldiers, I ducked inside.
Isa sat cross-legged on a cushion, a small lamp at her side. When she looked up to find me entering her tent, there was no shock on her face, because she’d been guiding me here all along.
“Good, you’re here,” Isa said. She sat cross-legged on a cushion, a small lamp at her side. “I think it’s time we talked.”
Chapter 32
Eva
When the sun was directly overhead, piercing the blue-gray storm clouds, Aketo signaled to raise the gate to the Enclosure. The crank required two sets of hands to wind.
Aketo was at my side. Baccha and the few who were left of my guard, just Falun and Kelis, walked behind us. The Elderi and the rest of the Tribe’s forces followed at a short distance. It was a pitiable force when compared with a couple thousand soldiers Mother had brought to Sher n’Cai. After an hour of deliberation, Dthazi, Yaya, and their unit of fighters had decided to remain inside the Enclosure. They would be better used in an evacuation than in a battle.
I hoped it didn’t come to that. When the gate was hoisted high enough and the dirt, stirred by its ascent, settled, I gazed out at the rolling waves of soldiers. Their white uniforms blended into the landscape, with mud up to their knees.
We had the high ground, but that was truly our only advantage.
Standing ten feet ahead of the first line of soldiers, Isadore and Mother were hand in hand. Mother wore her crown, a fan of rubies set in gold, and wore a pale blue dress, the voluminous skirts divided for riding horseback, its hem already muddied.
Isa was dressed for a fight in slate leggings, and boots laced up to her knees. A tunic, its sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and a glistening chain-mail cowl that covered her shoulders matched the rest.
Isa’s hair was yet again silvery blond and she’d glamoured away her springy curls in favor of soft waves falling around her face. Even though it was another layer of our subterfuge, I couldn’t help but mourn at the sight. And yet some small part of me was impressed.
Isa had made herself into this image of our mother for her safety. But she’d still broken out of Mother’s thrall.
I felt overdressed in comparison. I’d borrowed it all from Daischa: the finely made chain-mail cowl was an old heirloom made from interlocking slivers of silver and gold, like a dragon’s scales. My cloak was crimson silk lined with soft wool. The sturdy shearling tights and tunic were Osir’s work.
We marched toward the army until we’d cleared the gate. My steps faltered as I noticed a contingent standing apart from the soldiers. The group of fifteen women were dressed in fine woolen dresses, designed to withstand the cold, and I could tell they were noblewomen by their bearing. Even the way they sniffed at my approach oozed Court disdain. It didn’t matter that they weren’t exactly on my side; they could still be witnesses for what I planned.
I waited to hear the crunch of stone on stone indicating the gate was closed.
I dropped Aketo’s hand and stepped forward, boots crunching in the snow.
I drew in a deep breath—the smell of freshly turned earth, bitter draughts of kaffe, and sword oil filled the air—and called, “Before we begin, Mother, I have a request.”
My mother took in the sight of me with barely suppressed rage. Immediately she began to twist one of the baubles on her finger, and her skin had gone nearly as pale as the snow on the ground. But she must have conquered her fury, because she laughed. The sound of it was like shattering glass. “A request? Very well, Eva. What is it you want?”