The Turncoat King
The Turncoat King
The Rising Wave
Michelle Diener
Copyright © 2021 by Michelle Diener
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction and all names, people, places and incidents are either used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Also by Michelle Diener
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
She was being hunted.
Ava stood still, at the very edge of the forest, and looked back among the trees as she'd done over and over since the attack the night before.
Last evening, as she’d slid off her horse to make camp, an arrow had just missed her, embedding itself in the bark above her head with a hard thud. She had leaped back onto her mount and ridden away as fast as she could.
Now she would have to move out of the protection the trees had given her and onto the steppes—into the open.
It would be a lot easier to aim an arrow at her out on the plain.
That's what worried her.
And yet, she had to move forward. There was certainly no going back.
It worked both ways, though.
The people chasing her had so far not been willing to reveal themselves, only attacking from a distance—if she counted last night as being the first attack.
There had been another—much more personal—attack on her at her grandmother’s estate. And she had wondered since last night if the two men responsible for that attempted kidnapping were the same men chasing her now.
No way to know until she caught sight of them.
She peered around the tree she was hiding behind again and saw no movement through the trees.
They were out there, though. She could sense them.
Perhaps they would wait until she was out of the woods to get a good shot.
She could make sure they never did.
She pulled a sewing kit from her pocket, removed her cloak, and began to embroider along the back of it, high up where it fell across her shoulder blades.
The horse moved restlessly beneath her, and her heart beat in rapid, bird-like hops. She was the most vulnerable she had been since the attack last night.
She had removed the only thing protecting her.
The thick wool was already decorated, but now she stitched in bows and flying arrows, grateful they were not difficult to create. Like everything else she'd woven into the cloak, she kept the color the same as the cloak itself, dark brown, making it difficult to see what she had done.
No sense proclaiming her protections if she didn't need to. Most people, she knew, wouldn’t understand what they were looking at, even if she’d done it all in gold silk.
A twig snapped underfoot a little way away, and her hand trembled as she tied off the thread.
She fumbled as she pulled the cloak on again, her breath speeding up as she secured it around her throat.
“Just be calm,” she told herself, and patted her horse's neck before urging her forward.
The mare leaped from the trees into the open as if she had been waiting for the chance. After the slow stop-start of the steep hills and the thick forest, the speed felt glorious.
Ava bent over her horse's neck and an arrow flew past her, the feathered fletching brushing her cheek, almost in a caress.
She laughed—she couldn't help herself—and urged the horse on, turning to see if she could catch sight of her hunter.
He stayed hidden in the gloom of the trees, and all she saw was the line of the forest edge behind her and the mountain rising above it.
She was out of Grimwalt at last, and into Venyatu, and she whooped as the mare plunged down the first hill and got her out of arrow range.
She had only escaped from the prison where her cousin had held her four weeks ago, and years of confinement meant she did not take the open space, the blue sky above, and the cut of the wind on her face, for granted.
The wide-open vista lifted her spirits, and she realized the dark gloom of the forest and the feeling of being prey had weighed her down these last few days.
The hill leveled out and then dropped away again, and the sight below forced a gasp from her.
An army was moving, horses and foot soldiers, wagons pulled by the ungainly but ground-eating yakkuna so beloved and entwined in Venyatux culture. Trailing behind them were the camp supporters, from cooks to engineers.
She let the mare have her head, not slowing or trying to hide as she headed for the column.
This was a good thing.
A place to hide. A place where she wouldn't have to worry about her dwindling food supply, and a place where she could sleep at night, instead of being in a permanent state of watchfulness.
Her hunters could hide here, too, she conceded, and it would be harder, amongst so many people, to see them coming if they snuck up on her. But avoiding the army was impossible. She would rather be with them than try to skirt around them.
Anyway, the column of soldiers was surely headed for the same place she was. The thought made her heart leap in her chest and her eyes tear up.
She blinked the tears away.
She had a lot going for her here.
She could pretend to be a convincing Venyatux. She sorely doubted whoever followed her could do the same. They would be outsiders.
She would not.
“Halt.”
The shout was snatched away by the wind, so it took Ava a moment to hear it, even though the soldier who'd called out seemed to rise up in front of her like an apparition. By the time she had reined her horse in, the guard had his arrow notched and pointed at her.
He was massive, wearing his hair high in a ponytail on the crown of his head. It fell in a thick, twisted rope down his back.
“Sorry.” She smiled at him winningly while her mare danced beneath her, and wondered if the working she had embroidered into her cloak would protect her from an arrow shot at this close distance. “The wind made it hard to hear you.”
She had been taught official court Venyatux by Carila, her weapons and defense master, but she used the thick, regional accent from his home town which he had spoken in casual moments.
Her fluent use of his language had the guard lowering his arrow. “What are you doing away from the column?”
“I am joining it.” Ava kept her smile bright. “I missed the call to arms. My aunt didn't want me to leave and I think she kept it from me, but I heard about it in the end, and here I am.” She hit her chest with a closed fist in the Venyatux salute and bowed her head. “I am ready to serve in the name of the Whispering Grasses.”
The guard groaned, as if in pain. “Where are you from?”
“The border.” She nudged her horse closer to his, and with a sigh he slid his arrow back into its sheath and slung his bow over his shoulder.
“The border with Skäddar?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head. “Near Grai.” Carila had been from Grai. She knew more about it than anywhere else in Venyatu.
“So why are you coming from the direction of Grimwalt?” He eyed her suspiciously as he turned his horse back toward the column.
“It's the quickest route,” she said with a shrug. “Although I did keep out of sight when I cut through there. Didn't know if I needed some kind of permission.”
The guard snorted. “I don't either, but I'm guessing you do.”
She laughed. “Good thing I wasn't caught then.”
He grinned back at her.
They were close enough to the column now that Ava could smell the dust being kicked up by thousands of hooves. She gave a happy sigh, and it truly was heartfelt. People, excitement, movement. Everything she hadn't had for two years. “I can't wait to fight.”
The guard chuckled. “Don't get too excited. I'm not sure what position they'll give you. We need competent fighters.”
“I'm more than competent.” Ava realized she'd have to play this just right. “I am happy to fight someone to show you.”
“It's not me you'll have to convince,” he said. “But I'll put in a good word for you.”
“I'm Avasu.” Ava touched her forehead and
bowed, and when she looked up she saw the guard was looking at her strangely.
“I am Deni. I never knew people at the border were so formal.”
“Maybe it's because we are representing the nation with the Skäddar?” she said lightly, and shrugged.
Deni gave a slow nod. “Maybe.” He raised his arm and hailed another guard heading toward them, a woman with a similar style of high ponytail and long plait, like Deni.
Ava wondered if it was a regional style.
“What do we have here? A little stray?” The woman looked Ava over with quick, suspicious eyes.
“A straggler. Heard about the call to arms and wanted to join. She's come from the border with Skäddar.” There was a slight warning in Deni's voice, as if admonishing the woman to be nice, and Ava felt a flare of warmth for the big man.
“A goat herd?” The woman tilted her head so she looked down her nose as Ava.
“What's wrong with goat herding?” Ava asked. “I bet there are plenty here eating border mountain goat and are happy to be doing so.”
Deni laughed. “She's got you there, Sybyl.”
“Anyway, while I may herd the occasional flock of goats, I also protect them from the mountain lions and the thieving Skäddar that come across the border. So I can fight as well as anyone.”
The woman looked at her again, a little less dismissively. “All right, we'll take you to the lieutenant, and she can decide what to do with you.”
“That's all I ask.” Ava smiled. She didn't really mind what task she ended up with, but she preferred to fight. She wanted the practice for when they joined the Rising Wave.
She wanted to ask how far they were from Luc's army, but she kept her mouth shut.
She would hopefully find out soon enough anyway.
This was surely the fastest, safest way to meet up with her lover, so she would do what she had to do to fit in and be accepted.
She followed behind Deni and Sybyl as they trotted forward, toward the front of the column, and allowed herself a last look back.
There was no one on the hills behind her, but that meant nothing.
She was sure the man who'd called himself a messenger from the Speaker of Grimwalt's court was still out there, along with his companion.
They'd tried unsuccessfully to kidnap her seven days ago from her grandmother's house, and she was sure it was them who had followed her when she'd packed up and run. It was also possible his accomplice had gone back to report their failure to the Grimwalt court at some point, while the messenger tried to run her to ground. Or they could still be working together.
In the last two days they'd tried to attack her twice.
She would need to watch her back.
She was sure they weren't going to let a little thing like an army on the move get in their way.
Chapter 2
Luc walked through the camp, nodding to the soldiers who hailed him, stopping here and there for a short exchange, but heading inexorably to the open plain beyond the tents.
He'd left his horse behind, even though he'd have preferred to ride out a little way, leave the whole army behind him for a bit.
If he'd taken it, though, someone would have insisted on coming with him, and he wanted to be alone.
His friends thought being alone was a dangerous thing for him right now, but no more dangerous, in his mind, than being in a group.
He'd been attacked by assassins three times since he’d returned to the Rising Wave after his escape. Once while sitting with his three top lieutenants, not two hours after he'd found his way back from the Kassian fortress he’d been held in. No one had been fast enough to save him then.
He'd saved himself.
He gripped the fabric over his chest at the thought, and looking down at his fist, forced himself to release it.
“You do that a lot.”
He managed not to show his surprise at the voice to his left, and simply turned to look at Massi as she fell into step beside him.
He sighed.
Even sneaking off on foot hadn't been enough to fool her.
“Do I?”
“You know you do. It worries you.” Massi looked over at him. “Why?”
“I took an arrow there, when Ava and I were escaping the Kassian. It's natural for me to rub it.” Except, if anyone asked to see the scar, he couldn't oblige.
It was gone.
“What's going on, Luc? I'd ask what they did to you while they had you prisoner, but you and I both know nothing could have been as bad as the Chosen camps.”
“No, they beat me a little, that's all.” He shrugged. “It was nothing.” Not even the knife they'd stabbed into his side to see if he was truly unconscious had worried him.
The scar from that wound was gone, too, he reminded himself. As was the one on his forearm. The one he'd gotten fighting the Kassian soldiers when they'd ambushed him before his capture.
Everything that Ava had touched with her needle and thread had healed completely.
“Then what?” Massi's exasperation came out on a puff of white because of the chill in the air.
“Ava . . .” He hesitated. He didn't understand what Ava had done to him, and was reluctant to share anything about her with anyone else. Even Massi, who had been by his side since he was fifteen. They were family in every way that mattered.
“Ava.” Massi said her name neutrally, but Luc detected a hint of censor in her voice.
“Ava,” he agreed. He shielded his eyes against the bright midday sun and looked out in the direction of Grimwalt.
“She has some hold on your mind. Your happiness.” Massi kicked out at a small pebble in her path and it skittered off into the long grass.
“She does,” he agreed.
She made a sound of surprise. “You admit it?”
“It's true. I'm worried about her, worried something has happened to keep her away so long, and given what she was planning to do . . .” He shrugged. “Not a day goes by I don't struggle not to get on my horse and ride off to find her.”
Massi was silent, so he turned to look at her, and found her staring at him in horror.
“You would leave the Rising Wave?”
“I'm still here, aren't I?” He lifted his hand to shield his eyes again. “But it's not without regrets and doubts.”
“You knew her for all of three days.” Massi's words were soft, as if she was unable to speak properly.
“And yet, I miss her.” This time, he put a fist over his heart, and Massi's silence was beyond shocked.
She knew what that meant. Everyone from the Chosen camps knew.
“Does she feel the same?” Massi whispered.
Luc didn't know the answer to that. Ava had asked him if her coming to join him would be acceptable to him, after she was done trying to wreak her revenge on the Queen's Herald. That sounded like she at least cared.
“I hope so.”
“You hope—” Massi swore. “I'm worried about you, Luc. We finally have the fruits of our labor all around us. The Funabi are finally here, and settled in. Most of our own people from the plains have come, and those who aren't here yet will join us soon. The Venyatux are on their way. And while Grimwalt won't stand with us, it at least has chosen to close its borders and give Kassia no aide or even trade. We're in a position of strength, headed for Fernwell with no army ranged against us yet, and instead of making plans, you are sneaking out of camp to search the horizon for a woman who you met for a few days nearly two months ago.”
“When you put it like that . . .” Luc shrugged. “Perhaps I should step down as the commander.”
“What?” She took a step back. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what you meant,” he said, turning to look her straight in the eye for the first time, “is that I should shake my feelings for Ava off and pretend I never met her.”