Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

That caught them all by surprise. “What does that mean?” Senneth said.

Cammon felt himself almost smile. “Kirra had to rescue the girl in the tent, of course. Justin, I think you’d better go wake Ellynor, for the girl is in pretty bad shape.”

Justin was already on his feet. He said, “And that’s how you bring yourself to kill an unarmed man.”

KIERNANwas hoping for a surrender flag, he told them at dawn, as their own troops were stirring and they prepared themselves for the day. They were all in Amalie’s tent, both exhausted and elated, having listened to Kirra’s somewhat edited account of the night’s slaughter and trying to guess how it changed the fortunes of war. Even Ariane Rappengrass and Mayva Nocklyn had been invited in to hear the news. Cammon was yawning through the meeting, since he had returned to bed quite late. He had woken Amalie to tell her the story, but the others hadn’t learned it till now.

Romar said, “I don’t know if we can count on surrender, but at the very least I would expect some of the foot soldiers to run. Rayson and Halchon dead! They will be thinking about what they have given up to fight for their marlords. They will be thinking about their families back home, undefended now. They will desert in droves if they believe the war cannot be won.”

“I would let those common men go,” Amalie said in her soft voice.

“Amalie, they’re traitors to the throne,” her uncle said. “Not to be trusted.”

She shook her head. “Conscripted by their lords. Ambitious, maybe, and hopeful of reward, but peaceful enough men in the general run of things. Let them escape under cover of night. We won’t chase them down.”

Kiernan shrugged. “But any Thirteenth House noble who threw in his lot with the traitors deserves either a quick death on the battlefield or imprisonment in Ghosenhall,” he said. “You want the common men to go free-very well. I disagree, but I will back you. But the nobles should be punished. They could have more easily supported you than betrayed you.”

“And there will be the matter of Gisseltess and Fortunalt,” Ariane said. “How shall we keep their heirs in check? Shall we assign advisors to Halchon’s sons and Rayson’s daughter?”

“Don’t savor your victory before the enemy has laid down his arms,” Tayse warned.

Kiernan turned his gaze on the Rider. “There is no one left to urge them to fight,” he said somewhat impatiently. “Nothing left to fight for.”

Senneth spoke up. “The foreign mercenaries are still being paid,” she pointed out. “But as for our homegrown rebels, don’t forget that some of these soldiers rode to war with no hope of political gain or riches.”

Tayse nodded at her. “Men will fight for faith sometimes harder than they will fight for a king.”

Senneth was watching Amalie. “And who knows what stories have started to circulate about the princess?” she said. “If any of our own soldiers were spies and have run back to tell tales-well, clearly Amalie has some odd powers. Coralinda could have capitalized on that. ‘Look, your princess has a strange kind of magic! This woman will sit on the throne unless you fight her to the death!’ A fanatic is always more dangerous than a mercenary.”

“Then let’s go slipping into the camp tonight and slit Coralinda’s throat,” Ariane said. She sounded serious. “Anything to be done with this!”

“Magic won’t serve us this time,” Senneth said regretfully. “I don’t think even Donnal could get close to her undetected. Too many moonstones.”

“Well, I have some archers who are very good,” Ariane said. “I will have them train their arrows on her.”

“In any case, we still have a fight on our hands,” Kiernan said.

That, unfortunately, proved to be true.

Cammon could sense a renewed sense of purpose emanating from the upstart Gillengaria men during the day’s long and ferocious fighting. Coralinda must have whipped the soldiers to a frenzy that morning as she sent them off to war. Another of your marlords felled by magic! Are you not afraid of a princess who commands power like that?

Cammon shivered a little. Perhaps it was even more frightening. Perhaps she didn’t even need words. Perhaps her own magic was so powerful she could inspire men to fight, force them to fight, enflame them with a battle lust they could neither resist nor comprehend.

If so, they were in for a long and grueling war.

“This has been our deadliest day so far,” Kiernan said heavily that night as they all convened in Amalie’s tent. “Coralinda is proving to be a better general than her brother, even-or at least a more reckless one, with more power to sway her troops.”

“And yet, as far as I know, she does not want the throne,” Romar said thoughtfully. “Maybe there is something else we can offer her. Would she be open to a parley, do you think?”

Cammon almost laughed when “No” came from so many people all at once-Senneth, Tayse, Kirra, and Ariane. He suspected that if Ellynor had been in the tent, she would have repeated the negative in an even more heartfelt voice. Coralinda was not the kind of woman who negotiated. She was used to having everything her own way-and she had no qualms about destroying anyone who opposed her.

“Then what do we do?” the regent demanded.

Kiernan stood up, resettling his weapons belt around his waist. “We fight again tomorrow.”

ASit turned out, Romar Brendyn had not been so far off in his suggestion. For the very next day, Coralinda did come to the royal camp, looking for a way to end the war.

It was mid-afternoon. Cammon had escorted Amalie to the hospital tents, where wounded men were being brought in by the dozens, so fierce was the day’s fighting. Valri, Ellynor, and Kirra traveled slowly between the pallets, kneeling beside each fallen soldier, laying their hands on the flushed cheeks, the gouged rib cages. Four of the Carrebos mystics could also be glimpsed moving inside the tents or kneeling beside the hurt soldiers.

Another woman, a stranger, paced between the beds and paused at each one to bend down, touch her fingers to a man’s face, and move on without speaking.

“Who’s that?” Amalie asked. “She hasn’t been here before.”

Ellynor, who was close enough to hear, stepped over to answer. Her dark hair was plaited into a long braid down her back; the bright dye of the clan pattern showed through in random snatches. “I don’t know her,” Ellynor replied, “but she was here this morning when I arrived. I think she was here all night.”

“Is she a mystic?” Amalie asked.

Ellynor nodded. “Oh, yes. But she has a kind of skill I’ve never seen before-very different from mine and Kirra’s. It’s like she places her hand on a man’s body and his cuts instantly start to heal over. They brought a man here this morning-his head was practically severed, and I know they just brought him here to die. She put both her hands around his throat and it was like the flesh just knit itself back together. We were all gaping. A few hours later, he was sitting up and drinking water.”

“What’s her name?” Amalie asked.

“I asked. She didn’t answer.”

But Cammon knew. He was watching the placid, thick-limbed, brown-haired woman make her way slowly down the avenues of fallen soldiers, her face so expressionless as to seem entirely indifferent. “Lara,” he said.

Amalie glanced at him quickly. “You know her?”

“Met her once last year. She has a strange kind of magic, all right-very powerful. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before, either.”

Amalie gathered up her skirts. “Well, then, I’m glad she’s here tending our soldiers. I’m going to thank her.”