Year of the Reaper

The commander did not sit his horse alone. A spirit rode behind him, what had once been a beautiful woman in a dress the deepest shade of purple. Her arms were wrapped around the commander’s middle. She had pressed her cheek into his back so that her face was turned to Cas. She looked at him, through him, with dark, sorrow-filled eyes.

Cas dragged his attention from her. “No, Commander. It was a recent decision.”

“Whose decision?”

“King Rayan’s, sir.”

Commander Terranova’s gaze dropped to the dual rings on Cas’ finger. “How long do you plan to remain in the south?”

The queen would have Cas return to Palmerin sooner than later. Still. “As long as I’m needed.”

“As long as that?” A black velvet pouch dangled from the commander’s wrist, secured by a string. It was small, the size of a chicken egg. “Ventillas is gone. Palmerin must be missing its brothers. It isn’t wise to leave a city so unprotected.”

“It hasn’t been, Commander.” Cas held himself stiffly. His presence was not welcome here and he did not know why. He had always been on good terms with the commander.

The friendly lieutenant looked around to smile at Cas. “We’ll be in the south a few months only. A new company should relieve us. We’ll be glad to get back to our wives, eh, Commander?” For Cas’ benefit, he added, “He’s only been married a few months.”

Cas snuck a glance at the woman in purple. “My congratulations, Commander.”

Commander Terranova only grunted. Shrugging, the lieutenant gave Cas a look that said he did not know what had turned the man sour.

Who was this woman in purple? The commander’s new wife? Did he know she had died? From the look on his face, blanching at the mention of wives, Cas was almost certain he knew.

“Commander!”

A soldier galloped their way from the road ahead. One of the outriders.

“A problem?” Commander Terranova asked when the man came to a stop before them, slightly winded.

There was. “We’re going to have to find another route,” the outrider said. “Someone’s blown up the bridge.”





31




The bridge had been built half a millennium ago, spanning a river that bisected the kingdom east to west. The engineers had been skilled, the stone expertly cut and laid. But mortar and stone had proven no match for incendiaries.

A great gaping hole separated one half of the bridge from the other. To Cas, it looked as if someone had loaded a wagon with incendiaries, driven it onto the bridge, and lit the fuses. Nearby villagers said they had heard a terrible booming sound in the early morning hours. Most of the debris had washed away by the time Cas and the others rode up, save for a splintered wagon wheel that had ended up on the riverbank. Stranded travelers gathered on both sides with their horses and carts, looking on in dismay.

Commander Terranova wasted no time issuing orders. The outrider was dispatched to Elvira to report on the damage. Repairs would need to begin immediately. The friendly lieutenant was ordered to turn the train around. They would be taking an alternate route. One that, if Cas remembered correctly, would lead them into the forest. Some of Cas’ unease must have shown on his face because, once the other men had ridden off, Commander Terranova said curtly, “You have a concern, Lord Cassia. What is it?”

“This bridge, Commander.” Cas had been forced to learn the history of the kingdom’s major bridges, a favorite topic of Ventillas’. This bridge was within spitting distance of Elvira. No enemy had ever come close enough to draw a picture of it, let alone inflict damage. “It’s been around for five hundred years, but it happens to burn down this morning? Of all mornings?”

At that, the spirit in purple lifted her head and looked at Cas. Not a vacant stare like before. She was listening.

“You think the woman we’re searching for blew up the Elvira Bridge?” The look the commander turned on Cas was deeply skeptical. “Do you know what happens when a novice tries their hand with incendiaries?” He pointed to the bridge. “That many incendiaries? The outcome is rarely pleasant.”

“She could have paid someone to do the work for her.”

“You’re grasping,” Commander Terranova said, unimpressed. “And we’re wasting daylight. You’re here to play nursemaid to the queen, Lord Cassia. Nothing more. So go,” he ordered, “and play nursemaid.”

Cas’ face turned hot. “Commander,” he said as evenly as he could, before riding off.

“What is wrong?” the queen asked him when he reined in outside her carriage window. Esti sat opposite her with the prince. “Why have we stopped?”

“We’re turning around,” Cas informed them, trying to keep his temper in check. He was no one’s nursemaid. “We’ll take the road through the forest. It shouldn’t delay us too long in the end.”

The queen frowned. “What has happened?”

“Someone blew up the bridge. This morning,” Cas added for good measure.

Two pairs of eyes widened. The queen said, “Do you think . . . ?”

Was this her old friend’s doing? “Maybe, Your Grace. I don’t know.”

“And the commander? What does he think?”

“That it’s a coincidence.” Which was likely true. But he did not think so. In his heart, in his gut, it felt wrong.

The queen was quiet for the span of five heartbeats. “It is not a coincidence.” Cas exchanged a glance with Esti and wondered, fleetingly, how much she knew. Farther down the road, the wagons and carts were being turned around.

Cas said, “We can go back. One word from you, and the commander will—”

“No,” the queen said, her tone flat. “That is the one thing we cannot do. The king has sent along his finest soldiers. He’s sent you,” she added with a smile, there and gone in an instant. “We’re as well protected here as we are there. There’s nothing in Elvira for us now.”

Subdued, Cas answered, “Yes, Your Grace.” His heart hurt for her in a way he could not have imagined possible the day they first met. He shifted his attention to the nurse. “Esti . . .”

“I have two daggers,” Esti told him brightly.

“Daggers?” Cas repeated.

Esti passed the baby over to a bemused queen. The nurse wore a cloak, unbuttoned, over a white dress. She lifted the hem high enough to show boots that had been well broken in. “Bittor gave them to me. I have one in here,” she said, tapping her right boot. “He said to wear boots, not slippers, in case I needed to run. I have another here.” She turned her head and lifted her wimple so they could see the hilt of a dagger peeking out by the nape of her neck.

“My goodness,” the queen said.

Esti smiled, revealing two large dimples. “He’s always been a nitpick for details, ever since we were children. See here?” She tugged open her cloak. “When I told him I was riding with the queen, he added these compartments.” A half dozen pockets had been carefully sewn into the lining, holding bits of food, carefully wrapped, flint to start a fire, and two flasks filled with water. “Just in case,” she finished, her smile fading.

Cas glanced down at the sleeve that Bittor had expertly mended. “You grew up together,” he realized.

Esti nodded. “I moved to Elvira several years ago. I was a nurse for another family. Bittor found me after his family passed on.”

The queen held her son closer. “He lost his entire family?”

Makiia Lucier's books