The Turncoat King Page 2

  Massi was quiet. “That is what I meant, and it was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I don't know your Ava, but she must be quite something for you to . . . think so highly of her.” She put out a hand and rubbed Luc's arm. “I’m inclined to think highly of her myself for her part in saving you, but I also don't like that we don't know a lot about her. The way the thought of her distracts you makes me worry we'll be less prepared against the Kassian, and that is ungenerous of me. You've given everything to the Rising Wave. If anyone deserves something good, it's you.”

  Luc pulled her close, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “You deserve it, too, Massi. We all do.”

  They had been rounded up as teenagers, impressed into Kassia's service, and had had to make their own families, their own joy. He thought they'd been successful.

  But Ava had lit something in him that he hadn't experienced before.

  “Are you spelled?”

  Luc stilled at the question, dropped his arm as he stepped back with a neutral face. “Now why would you ask me a question like that?”

  Massi shook her head. “It's one of the rumors going around the camp. That you move faster than a man has any right to. That when you train you never miss what you aim for, never allow a blow to land.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “You were stronger than anyone I’ve ever known before you were captured, but since you've been back, you're . . . more. Better at everything. You’ve managed to fend off three assassination attempts single-handedly. And that first one, when that Funabi assassin tried to kill you the night of your return?” She shrugged. “I didn't even clearly see you move you were so fast.”

  If Massi had been a bit more generous in her thoughts of Ava, maybe he'd have shared his worries that perhaps he had been spelled, but he refused to make Ava more vulnerable when she arrived.

  He wanted Ava to be accepted and befriended when she reached the Rising Wave. Not treated with the awe and fear that known spell casters usually encountered as their welcome.

  She was his lover. She would be living with him, if he could persuade her to agree.

  He would not have her viewed with suspicion, even if he suspected her himself.

  “I'd been on alert for days before that attack, expecting the Kassian to track me down and kill me. You were sitting in your own tent, feeling safe, wine cup in hand.” His voice was mild.

  Massi laughed in relief. “That's true. But to be honest, that sword you brought back from the Kassian stronghold . . .” She shrugged. “It’s much admired. There are stories now that it’s enchanted. Giving you special powers. Strength and accuracy. If I were you, I’d be careful someone didn’t try to steal it.”

  With a grunt of surprise, Luc pulled the sword from the sheath at his back and held it out in front of him. He had come to appreciate it more and more, the longer he had it. The intricate gold work on the hilt, the weight and balance and reach of it.

  It had been in a box in a long-forgotten storeroom in the Kassian fortress where he and Ava had been held, and they wouldn’t have escaped if he hadn’t found it.

  “I don't think I'm any different in training to how I was before. Maybe a bit more focused.” Was he better? He didn’t feel like he was.

  “You know soldiers.” Massi turned back to the camp, and reluctantly, Luc turned with her. “They'll make a story out of anything. When it comes to you, they embellish even more.”

  “Is this spelled sword nonsense making them have doubts about me? About the Wave?”

  Massi shrugged. “The opposite. The story is only a righteous leader could hold such a sword. That only makes your legend bigger than before.” She hesitated. “The other story—the one I mentioned before—is that you were spelled by a fey witch who was imprisoned with you, but that’s a lot less popular than the sword one.”

  A chill ran down his spine, and he struggled to pull up a lighthearted smile. “I'd like to find who's spreading that story. No one should know I escaped with anyone. I’ve only told you, Revek and Dak the full truth.”

  She glanced at him. “You have told the camp you’re expecting a friend to join you, though. And that friend is a woman.”

  “There’s a long jump from letting them know to be on the lookout for a friend of mine, to my escaping the Kassian with a fey witch.”

  Massi studied his face and shook her head. “I've seen that look before. We need to keep things friendly, Luc. Not go around intimidating our allies.”

  “I just want to know who’s spreading rumors. Find out for me. I won't approach them.”

  Massi rolled her eyes. “Fine. But don't engage. We've got enough on our plate without you beating up the troops.”

  “I won't beat anyone up.” But he did want to find out who was telling that particular story. Because it was unsettlingly close to the truth.

  Chapter 3

  They had made it off the steppes and onto the flat plains that formed the far north of Kassia three days ago.

  No army had stopped them.

  Ava heard there were a few scouts who rode away as soon as they saw the column, so someone would know they had crossed into enemy territory.

  But it would be days at least before the news reached Fernwell.

  Herron's war on the border of Jatan, to the west, had diverted all of Kassia's resources away from the far north border with Grimwalt and Venyatu.

  That's what she'd heard before she left Grimwalt, anyway.

  It looked to be true.

  Ava kept to the front of the column and looked out over the sweeping grasslands. They were golden, the grasses dry after the long summer.

  This was Cervantes.

  Kassia had ambushed the people who lived here, decimated them, and rounded their children up into camps and called them the Chosen.

  This was Luc's former homeland she was traveling through.

  He had the light eyes and dark hair of his people, the broad shoulders and the height.

  She lifted a hand from the reins and hugged herself as she thought of how he looked, staring daggers at her as he crouched, naked, in the river, and demanded she tell him what she had done to him.

  She had not answered. And she had gone on to do even more.

  Had that been wrong?

  She had so little guidance in this but her own conscience, and it had felt right. Felt good to lay a working of health, speed and accuracy over him.

  To give him something that would protect him.

  She couldn't regret it, but he may well feel differently.

  And soon she would be able to find out for herself.

  Was that why she was suddenly nervous as they approached the Rising Wave?

  Right now, she could imagine him as he had been at their final farewell, pulling her close for a desperate kiss.

  What if she arrived and he had another woman? Had given up waiting for her?

  Or perhaps worse, was angry at the workings she had woven into his very skin.

  And then, of course, there was the matter of her lies to Deni and the other Venyatux she had befriended since she'd joined the column.

  She did not want to hurt them, or lose their friendship, but she knew when the truth came out, she would.

  “Avasu!” Deni's shout came from her right, and she turned in her saddle to look. She was using the name Carila had given her, and it made her think of him every time someone in the Venyatux column called her.

  She missed the old man, and his raucous laugh.

  Deni waved his arm, and she urged her horse into a canter to reach him, trying to shake off the melancholy of what was to come when the truth was revealed.

  Deni was a friend, and she had so few of those.

  “You speak Skäddar, don't you?” He smiled at her as the wind played with his long plait.

  “Yes.” Very fortunately for the lie she was living here, she did. Carila had spoken it, and he had taught her everything he knew.

  “There's a missive for the general from the Skäddar, but it's in their l
anguage, and the general doesn't read or write Skäddar.”

  That was interesting.

  Ava followed Deni to the very head of the column.

  She hadn't come into contact with the general yet, and only interacted briefly with her lieutenants when she was assigned her duties for the day.

  She was in no hurry to attract their attention, but it might be worth it to find out what the Skäddar had to say about the Rising Wave and the war Luc was taking to Kassia's capital.

  Sybyl was waiting for them, off to the side, and they joined her.

  The general and two of her lieutenants were bent over a missive, and a Skäddar warrior sat on a short, sturdy pony near them, the blue and green whorls of decoration on his face absolutely fascinating to Ava.

  She nudged her mare toward him, until she was right beside him. “Greetings.”

  He looked away from the general slowly, eyes narrowed.

  “Do you mind if I look at the beautiful patterns on your face?”

  The Skäddar's eyes narrowed a little more. “Why?”

  “The design is complex and beautiful and I'm interested in patterns.”

  “Your Skäddar is rough.” The warrior went back to watching the general.

  “I know. I'm sorry. I think I'm the best you're going to get.”

  “I can understand you, so that is all that is necessary.”

  Ava couldn't help moving a little closer, her gaze still fixed on his face. The design looked very complex from afar, but she had the sense that if she got a little closer, she would discover it was actually simple but clever.

  “No closer.”

  With a sigh, Ava backed away. “Whatever they mean and whoever painted them, my compliments.”

  The Skäddar flashed her a look of surprise, but before he could say anything, Deni rode up.

  “The general wants you now.”

  With a nod to the warrior, she turned her horse and trotted up to the general with her gaze lowered.

  “You spoke to him?” The general's voice made her look up and catch her gaze.

  She nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  Ava's mouth quirked. “That my Skäddar is rough but he can understand me well enough.”

  The general looked at her with what seemed to be expressionless eyes.

  Ava held still in her saddle, her gaze steady.

  “What does this say?” The general had not plaited her hair, unlike most of the soldiers around her, although she had gathered it at the top of her head, and the wind blew it in long, silky strands of black and silver behind her, like a banner.

  Ava took the proffered roll of parchment and opened it.

  She took her time reading it, wanting to make sure she understood.

  She had always spoken Skäddar better than she had read it.

  “Well?” The general's impatience was communicated only by her horse, which danced beneath her.

  “It says you are rude.” She lifted her gaze from the missive and shrugged.

  The general made a sound at the back of her throat. “That is not all it says.”

  Ava shook her head. “It says you asked them to spy on the Jatan and to let you know what the Jatan decided to do after the Kassian attack on their border. Then you left to join the Rising Wave without waiting for their leaders to discuss your request and the offer that accompanied it. This has forced them to send one of their best warriors down through Venyatux territory with a message on their decision.”

  The general slid a look at the Skäddar warrior and then turned back to her, her face neutral.

  “It says they will do as you ask if you agree to not only grant Skäddar special trade status, but create a trade treaty that includes Grimwalt, so all three northern lands have preferential trade agreements.” Ava couldn't help the lift of her eyebrows.

  Her parents had been trade emissaries for Grimwalt. Since their murder at Kassia's hands, she had no idea who had taken their place, but she knew for sure the general did not have the authority to speak on Grimwalt's behalf.

  Grimwalt had never bowed to any country—although they did have a special relationship with Venyatu. They may even agree to a request from Venyatu for a three-way trade treaty with Skäddar. But that wasn't something the general could promise.

  “That's all?” the general asked.

  She nodded.

  “How do they end the missive? Who signed it?”

  She looked down again. “We await your response. The Skäddar Collective.”

  The general made the sound at the back of her throat again. Then she lifted a hand and beckoned the warrior over.

  The wiry, muscular man moved his mountain pony over slowly, in no rush to obey.

  Ava kept her gaze on his face and he shot her an exasperated look.

  “Ask him if he can stay one more day and travel with us.”

  Ava didn't realize the general was speaking to her for a moment, then remembered why she was here.

  She repeated the request in Skäddar and the warrior's lips thinned.

  “Why?”

  Before she could translate, the general moved in even closer, and lowered her voice. “Tell him we will join with the Rising Wave tomorrow. Two of our scouts have already encountered the rear units and they are going to stop moving and wait for us to join them. Tell him it would be good for the Commander of the Rising Wave to have an opportunity to send a letter to his leaders as well.”

  Ava hadn't known they were so close.

  Her heart leaped in her chest and she forced her gaze to her hands to hide her reaction. She repeated the request, and the warrior looked at her suspiciously.

  “Is this true?”

  “It is the first time I've heard we are so close, but I am but a lowly soldier, I hold no rank, so I wouldn't have been told.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at his cheeks. “Is it the sky and the grass, meeting on the mountains?”

  His mouth dropped open. The silence stretched out.

  “What are you saying?”

  For the first time, Ava heard a dangerous note in the general's tone.

  “Can you wait a day?” she asked the warrior.

  “Yes. If the chance is to meet with the Commander of the Rising Wave, it would be foolish to do otherwise.” But the look he sent her was suspicious.

  Ava turned to the general. “He agrees it's worth his while to accompany us.”

  The general looked between them and then nodded. “Tell him to make himself welcome. Make sure he knows where to get a meal. Be his guide here.”

  Ava thought it funny. She'd only been part of the column for three weeks, but she inclined her head and moved away, gesturing to the warrior to follow her.

  “How do you come to speak Skäddar?” the warrior asked her, and she suddenly grew tired of not having a name for him.

  “My name is Avasu.” She touched her forehead and bowed in greeting. “I'm from the border with Skäddar.”

  “Huh.” He inclined his head. “My name is Kikir.” He watched her with interest. “No rude comment about me and mine stealing your goats?”

  “No.” She smiled serenely at him. They had reached Deni and Sybyl, and she waved a hand at the senior guards, introducing them.

  “We should have the two of you fight each other in training, Avasu.” Sybyl gave a slow, evil grin. “See if those Skäddar moves of yours are effective against a Skäddar warrior.”

  Ava smiled back. “I don't think fighting Kikir is what the general had in mind when she asked me to make him welcome.”

  Her weapons master, Carila, had taught her everything he knew—it was part of his agreement with her parents—and she'd assumed he'd passed on his Venyatux fighting skills.

  But everyone's surprise at how good she was, and some of the more adventurous moves she used in her fighting style, had told her she'd made a mistake in not underplaying her skill.

  She'd thought she'd need to prove her worth as a soldier, and instead found herself under scrutiny for bei
ng too good.

  Too late to backtrack, she'd begun teasing the Venyatux relentlessly about how the border mountain folk were simply better at the fight than their cousins from the steppes—that the thin air and the long nights had given the highlanders the lung capacity and the time to be better than their fellow lowland tribesmen and women.

  It had become a goodnatured rivalry, with Ava, the only self-confessed mountain girl, continually having to spar with whoever wished to prove her wrong.

  If it had kept her skills nice and sharp, that was just a bonus to being accepted. The unit she'd been assigned to had chosen to treat her as a bright younger sibling, boasting about her to the other units and trying to put her in her place amongst themselves.

  She had a feeling that Kikir might not be quite so willing to believe her lies. Especially if the fighting style Carila had taught her had no connection to the Skäddar.

  “What is she saying?” Kikir asked.

  Ava hesitated, then shrugged. She'd made a promise to herself that she was lying enough just by pretending to be Venyatux. She would not lie any more than she had to. “Sybyl wants me to spar with you. I was taught a fighting style that incorporates Skäddar elements. And I have been beating most of the lowlanders because of it. They want to see me fight a Skäddar warrior. And they are hoping you will win.”

  Kikir tipped back his head and laughed. “I agree.”

  “None of you get too excited.” Ava couldn't help the humor that bubbled up in her voice. “We're riding hard today, to catch up with the Rising Wave.”

  “Now, now. We have to take a break sometime,” Deni said, grinning. “We'll make time.”

  Ava translated for Kikir, and the wiry Skäddar clapped Deni on the back in enthusiastic agreement.

  “You don't look too put out by this.” Sybyl was watching her, her face tilted to the side. She seemed bemused.

  Ava couldn't tell her years of being locked away, with no one for company, meant that she didn't mind having to fight if that's how she was accepted into the group.

  The teasing, the jokes, they were like the sweetest sustenance to her after years of famine and drought.

  “I'm not.” She smiled at Sybyl, and she knew the senior officer would take it as a challenge.