Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

“These are all your family's lands?”

Brian guided his horse into the creek. “Yes. They have been for generations. One of my ancestors did a service for an emperor-Klinus, I think-and was given this entire range, all the way to the Wolfork.”

“And where does Count Sarrow's demesne begin?”

Brian pointed east past a low chain of hummocks blanketed in cottonwood and elm trees. “Farridon lies beyond those peaks. The river is the property line as my father reckons it. Though the count disputes that, of course.”

Of course. Josey tried to get a sense of the lands they were talking about. It was flat with plenty of sunlight and access to water, but most of it was going unused. “Your family is blessed. This looks to be good farmland.”

“It's one of the reasons I've brought up to my father. This fighting is pointless. We have more land than we can work already. But he's stubborn, as you might have noticed. He'll die before he lets someone else claim a sliver of his property.”

Looking out over the Therbolds' grand demesne, Josey got an idea, but she kept it to herself. She needed to see more of this region and what it had to offer. If there were more lands such as this in the empire, then they had overlooked a vast opportunity.

While Brian pointed out landmarks and unique features of this land, Josey was content to watch and listen to the love in his voice. Growing up in so many places when she was young-Highavon and Navarre, and then the manor in Othir-she'd never felt such a keen connection to the places she called home.

She was relaxed, gazing to the hilltops, as Brian reined up. Josey turned with a smile, expecting another illuminating detail from him. What she saw punched the air from her lungs.

It had once been a village. The outlines of homes and other structures remained, anchored in the red earth amid tumbled stone blocks and blackened timbers. Josey wanted to turn away, but she forced herself to look. There were no bodies evident-thank the heavens-but in her mind's eye she saw the violence that had caused this devastation.

“This was one of our settlements,” Brian said. His voice was low, almost a whisper, stripped of its earlier vitality. “Thirty families transplanted from our western lands to tend flocks here. By the time we got the warning that the northerners had come, it was already over. Only a handful survived.”

The pain of the disaster was etched into his face. His gloves creaked as his hands gripped the reins tight. “Between Sarrow and the northerners, so much blood has been spilt over a parcel of land. This is no way for our people to live. One way or another, these feuds must end.”

Josey nodded, afraid to offer a smile for fear he might misinterpret it. “Then that's what we'll do.”

The clap of hoofbeats sounded behind them. Sergeant Trenor wheeled his steed around to face the lone horse galloping toward their position. Josey recognized Iola in the saddle by her long auburn hair peeking from under the hood.

The girl stopped smoothly before them. “Your Majesty, Master Hirsch sent me to ask you back to the castle. There's news from the north.”

Josey's heart thudded hard against her riding corset. Was it about Caim? Sawing on the reins, she kicked Lightning into a gallop. She didn't wait for her guards or Brian and Iola as she raced back.

She slid down from Lightning the moment they entered the castle's tight courtyard, with the soldiers of her bodyguard rumbling in behind her. A hundred worries crowded her thoughts as she hurried to the oaken doors. Sergeant Trenor and his men had caught up by the time she entered the atrium with its bare stone walls.

“Majesty,” the sergeant whispered. “Please, allow us to properly conduct you-”

But she was rushing past the suits of archaic armor flanking the entry to the long central hall. Hirsch turned as she entered. Sarrow and Therbold were in attendance as well, all of them standing around a man sitting in a chair.

“What is it?” Josey asked.

The man in the chair jumped to his feet and stood at attention, even though he was clearly exhausted. His army uniform was covered in mud, as were his face and hands.

“This rider's just come from Durenstile,” Hirsch said. “He has so far refused to say why.”

The messenger saluted and pulled a round tube of wood from his satchel. “I was commanded to give this directly to Your Majesty and no one else.”

Josey clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She had a bad feeling. She nodded to Hirsch, who took the tube with a frown at the messenger. He broke it open and slid out a rolled sleeve of parchment, which he handed to her. Josey steeled herself as she opened it. The writer had been in a hurry, as evidenced by the scribbled handwriting and the omission of a perfunctory introduction.

Majesty,

Our position has been overrun. Enemy forces came without warning from the north. Exact numbers unknown. Colonel Restian is dead.

Captain Leoph Fillion, acting commander .

Durenstile Castle

A hard knot formed in Josey's stomach. How could this have happened? Durenstile was a large town with fortifications and a sizable garrison. For it to be wiped out, the attacking force must have been massive, but Hubert's reports had stated that the border was quiet. That the raiders had withdrawn to the north.

Exact numbers unknown.

“Majesty?” Hirsch asked.

“Everyone out.” Josey swallowed. “Except for my council and Lords Therbold and Sarrow.”

Hirsch scratched his beard as the servants and soldiers filed out of the hall. Captain Drathan, who had been conferring with Sergeant Trenor, remained at a nod from her. Sarrow and Therbold eyed her with as much suspicion as they did each other. They have good reason to, though they don't know it yet.

As she read the message aloud, Josey felt the lump in her stomach clench harder. What was she going to do? The northern army was the empire's main line of defense from threats in that direction. She could send for the other armies, but even under the best conditions it would take weeks for them to arrive. By that time the invaders could be within striking distance of Othir. Oh, gods. Am I going to lose my realm?

Hirsch, standing by a window, tapped his chin and remained silent. Captain Drathan frowned at the floor as if he might find an answer in the polished hardwood. Count Sarrow gazed into the hearth fire, looking like he had aged ten years in the last dozen heartbeats.

Lord Therbold rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “The Eregoths have been raiding across the border since before I was born. We've beaten them back year after year, and we'll do it again this time.”

Josey held up the message. “It doesn't mention the Eregoths.”

“Who else would it be?” Therbold asked. “We'll muster the militias and-”

“They sacked Durenstile, you buffoon,” Count Sarrow said. “This is no ordinary raiding party. We'll go south. Take everything of value and burn the rest. The invaders will need to eat, but they'll find nothing here. Before spring, they'll be packing back to the hinterlands.”

The nobles would escape, certainly, but Josey kept seeing the faces of the people in Elser's village. How far would they get on foot with nothing to eat? She looked down at the signet ring on her finger. “No.”

Therbold glanced over. “Highness, I hate to admit it, but it may be the best solution.”

“No.” She knew what she had to do. “I am taking your soldiers.”

“What?” Sarrow and Therbold said in unison.

Josey took a deep breath. “I am hereby commandeering the forces of both your lordships. You will remand every man-at-arms and able-bodied male over the age of sixteen into my custody. And every horse, too. Fully provisioned and equipped. I demand this as your liege lord.”