Chapter Seventeen

I regretted it the next day, of course, following a sleepless night. I would not have raised my voice to any other of Rupert’s subjects, and in the end, beyond being my mother, she was first and foremost his subject.

I sent Gerta to inquire as to their situation and whether Bethessa needed removing to the hospital. She came back saying they were no worse off than anyone else and better than some, having brought a number of their fine possessions with them, none of which they consented to share.

In Gerta’s opinion, which I valued, Bethessa seemed far too ornery to be genuinely ill. I tried to dismiss them from my mind after that but had difficulty. None of them had yet been to see Robin, even once.

That very afternoon the weather cleared, and I climbed the steps to the tower, hoping to see what lay around us.

To the south and as far east as the sea—all our land—everything slept beneath a blanket of white. To the west the rolling hills, blue and white in the distance, stretched to the neighboring kingdom of Khett. To the north…

Devastation. Everything lay burnt and torn and plowed as if a giant boar had raged across it. The horror of the blackened scene hit me in waves, just as the ruin lapped against the edge of the city.

And there—there…

Two forces, one great and one small. I blinked as my eyes refused to believe what they saw, and blinked again. A straggling line of dark figures made its way through the now-deserted streets of the town, like a short chain threatening to fail. Pursuing them came a moving blot on the horizon, appearing amorphous and almost harmless from my high perspective.

Ortis’s army.

A scream rose to my throat. Wildly, I judged the speed of the two parties and the distance between them. Would our men—what remained of them—make it to the safety of the castle in time?

I screeched like a blackbird and ran. Still wailing, I went down the tower steps at a speed that might well have tripped me up with grave consequences for Rupert’s child. I steamed through corridors, telling everyone I passed, “They come. They come!”

I picked up a tail of others as I went. Behind me I heard their voices and cries of, “Queen! Queen!” By the time I pelted through the bailey and reached the gates, I could not speak.

Rellison happened to be there, consulting with the guards. He eyed me in alarm.

“Your Majesty! I was just saying that perhaps we should take advantage of this break in the weather—”

“Open the gates. Open the gates!” I whooped.

“Precisely. There are three more dead…”

“They come!”

“The dead, Majesty?”

I hoped not. Oh, how I hoped not. I looked him in the eye. “Our army. What’s left of it.”

Glad cries sounded all around me. Rellison and the guards jumped into action.

“Open.” Rellison nodded to those manning the gates. “But, Majesty, are they pursued? Is it safe?”

“Ortis’s forces are hard after them.” I turned to the guards who stared at me. “You will need to be quick and clever. How fast can you raise and lower the portcullis?”

“Fast,” said Edward, the head guard. I’d heard he had been a fierce warrior in his day. “Majesty, you are certain?”

“I saw them from the tower. But I could not tell who…” My throat closed.

“Back! Back, everyone! We open the gates!” Edward added to me apologetically, “You too, Majesty. I would take no chances with your safety.”

“If you think I am budging from this spot,” I told him, “you are mad.”

He grinned at me and turned to his work.

“My Queen,” Rellison asked, “how long before our men reach us? Could you tell?”

I tried to calculate swiftly. “They have just entered the northern edge of the city.”

Edward said, “They may have wounded with them. Should we send men out to meet them, that they might move more swiftly?”

Dangerous. I calculated it with as much dispassion as I could muster. Rupert might not be with them. He might have been captured; he might have perished.

No.

But these, the very men who’d stood with him through the bitter defense of the kingdom, now ran like exhausted hares before fierce hawks.

“Yes.” I and Rellison spoke at the same time. Edward bellowed to several of his men. “Who wants to volunteer? I’ll send no one against his will on such a mission.”

Five of our bravest—all aged, like Edward himself—stepped up. We opened the gates, and they ran.

****

Even now, emotion swamps me when I describe what happened next. The story—the one that’s been told and retold—never includes this part. It’s all about coaches and grand balls and a magical transference into beauty. It skips right over the war and the siege and how our men returned to us, broken.

But they did return, at least some of them. Bloodied, beyond exhausted, and so changed that, once again, I barely recognized them.

Even my husband.

Uniforms in tatters, wearing filthy bandages as much as anything else, they limped in, assisted by those we’d sent out to them, as well as others who flooded out from the castle in an unstoppable wave. Of the strong force we’d sent out at the beginning of autumn, fewer than fifty returned. I did not at first know the man who came at the front of them, half his face swaddled in bandages stiff with blood, clad in rags, and with his head shaved. God help me, I recognized his voice, giving orders.

“Get everyone inside. Leave no one behind! Shut the gates. Is that everyone? Certain? Shut them. Shut! Bar them!”

“Rupert? Oh, God, oh, God—”

He failed to hear me amid the hollering and confusion. People still streamed in from all over the castle. The newly arrived were collapsing where they stood. Someone called for the medics, and I moved forward like a woman in a dream, driven to get closer.

People parted for me, bless them. They bowed, and a few called, “Sire!”

I called out also. “Husband!”

That, he heard. He turned, saw me, and froze. I will remember that moment until I die—the staggering relief and gladness of it, which very nearly took me to my knees. Oh, my heart wanted to break for him, seeing the exhaustion in his face, the expression in his one uncovered green eye, and the weight that sat visibly on him.

But none of that mattered. He had come, come, come.

I flew forward straight into his arms. They opened to catch hold of me, and for a moment I knew only bliss—pure gladness at the feel of him, the gift of his presence, the impossible wonder of his return when so many women’s husbands hadn’t come home and never would.

Only after that first wave of joy did other truths become apparent. He stank, and the body beneath the tattered uniform felt like a rack of bones.

I drew back far enough to question him with my gaze. He returned my look gravely and with so much love it stole my breath. His hand flew to cup my cheek and then moved, slowly and with wonder, to hover over the gentle swell of my belly.

“Cindra, never say…”

“Your child, Husband. Your child and heir.”

He kissed me there in front of everyone, a kiss of need and yearning, of pledging and gratitude. His subjects might have reacted in a number of ways. They cheered mightily, and I wept.

Rellison stepped forward to say, “Your Highness, we give great thanks at your return. Your wife the Queen has been a shining light to everyone in your absence.”

To my astonishment, another cheer arose from the onlookers.

Rupert said, “I am not surprised. My wife is a star in the heavens, one that helped steer me home. But we are hard pursued. It grieves me to tell you, my beloved people, we have all but lost this fight. Ortis set us a trap on our own border and called in mercenaries to fight us. I’m afraid we never stood a chance against so vast a horde. But our men fought bravely and without thought to themselves. Heroes, every one. Now we are faced with two choices: siege or surrender. Which shall we choose?”

“Siege,” I whispered.

All those including Rupert’s battered troops took up the word.

“Siege.”

“Siege!”

“Siege.”

And someone said, “If our valiant Queen can endure it, so can we.”