“Yes.”
“The brezalots?”
“Yes.”
“The size of the army?”
“Yes, I told them everything.”
Everything. There were some things even I might have held back. “The traitors on the Morrighese court?”
He nodded. “I had to, Lia.”
Of course he did. But I could only imagine how it lowered their regard for Morrighan and me even further. I came from a court roiling with snakes.
I sighed. “They didn’t seem to believe anything I said about the Vendan army.”
He reached out and took my hand. “If they seem skeptical, it’s because they’ve never encountered barbarian patrols that numbered more than a dozen before—but I told them what I saw too, the armed and organized brigade of at least five hundred that led you into Venda. Trust me, we’re evaluating the measures that need to be taken, especially now with the deaths of an entire—”
I let out a soft groan. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten off to a bad start with your officers, and Captain Hague already dislikes me intensely. I didn’t realize one of the dead was his cousin. He and I had a bit of a clash in there.”
“Bad news or not, Captain Hague is always a pill best taken with strong ale. At least that’s what Sven tells me. I know the man only in passing.”
“Sven’s right. He made it clear he had no respect for the Morrighese army, and he scorned the gift as well. I was as welcome in there as a skinned knee. Why in the gods’ names did Dalbreck ever want me if they had no regard for First Daughters and the gift?”
Rafe seemed momentarily stunned, his shoulders pulling back as if my question unsettled him. He quickly recovered. “The captain insulted you. I’ll speak to him.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please don’t. The last thing I want is to look like an injured child who ran tattling to the king. We’ll work it out.”
He nodded and brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll try to wrap up these meetings as soon as I can.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
A weary grimace lined his eyes, and he told me that a lot more had transpired in his absence besides his parents’ deaths. With no strong leadership, the assembly and cabinet had been warring. Certain egos had flared, generals were questioning the chain of command, and fear over the scourge that had killed the queen had affected commerce—all while they were keeping the king’s death a secret from the rest of the world. There were battles waiting for Rafe on every front once he got back to the palace.
“When will that be, Rafe?” I hated to push the point, especially now, but I had no choice. “You know that Morrighan still needs to be warned. That I need to—”
“I know, Lia. Please just give me a few days to deal with all this first. Then we can talk about—”
Sven poked his head out the door. “Your Majesty,” he said, rolling his eyes toward the room behind him, “they grow restless.”
Rafe glanced back in my direction, lingering like he never wanted to leave. I saw the shadows that still lurked under his eyes. He’d only had a few hours of sl
eep when he needed a week, and had been granted only a passing moment of mourning when he needed far more. All he asked from me was a few days to juggle his new role as king, but a few days seemed like a luxury Morrighan couldn’t afford.
I nodded, and he turned and disappeared behind the door with Sven before I could even say good-bye.
* * *
I hooked the last buckle of the bodice and adjusted the belt. I was grateful that Vilah and Adeline had brought me more practical clothes—a split leather skirt, jerkin, and shirt—but they were no less luxurious than the gown I had worn last night. The embossed brown leather was so supple it felt like it might melt between my fingers.
The old broken and knotted laces had been replaced on my newly cleaned boots, and Walther’s baldrick was snug against my chest, gleaming like the day Greta had given it to him.
“A family heirloom?” Vilah asked.
They both looked at me tentatively as if they’d read something painful in my expression when I put it on. They were as kind as Captain Hague was nasty. I smiled and nodded, trying to erase any sadness they had seen. “I’m ready.”
They offered to give me a tour of the outpost, which was contained within a large oval wall. Rafe’s and my tents were just outside the officers’ housing and the dining room. They pointed out the rows of soldiers’ barracks, as we walked, the soldiers’ dining hall, the surgeon’s bungalow, and tucked between them all, the cookhouse. We came to a wide gate that led to the lower level of the outpost. After pointing out the barns, paddocks, and the cook’s garden, they showed me the mews where the Valsprey were caged. They were striking birds with white plumage, sharp claws, and an intimidating stare. Their glowing red eyes had a black slash of feathers above them. Vilah said they were swift flyers with wingspans of five feet. “They’re able to fly thousands of miles without stopping. It’s how we send messages between outposts and the capital.” When I asked if they could be sent anywhere, she said they were only trained to fly to certain destinations. Their heads turned eerily, watching us as we passed.