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Chapter 11

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All Edwin could do was stand on the walls and watch them return. His uncle hadn’t let him go with the army this time. He was “far too important” for that. Edwin didn’t believe he was too important to fight. People said things like that, but what they meant was, “You might get hurt.” Or even, “You don’t know what you’re doing.” Which was perfectly true. Edwin had never commanded an army yet. Of course, that also meant Edwin had never lost a battle.

Caedmon was with him, and that was some comfort. The great hillichmagnar hadn’t been allowed to march with the army, either. Elwyn had said it was because Uncle Lawrence didn’t want anyone to show him up. “Lawrence is only still captain general because no one trusts Flora Byrne,” Elwyn had complained. “I mean, she’s supplying most of the troops, but the other dukes trust her about as much as a dockside whore.” Edwin didn’t like to think his choice of captain general was between his uncle, who had a habit of losing important battles, and a duchess who had, until recently, been literally sleeping with the enemy. But that seemed to sum up the situation.

“It must have been a tactical withdrawal,” Caedmon said, watching the returning columns of troops. “They do not look as if they have suffered many casualties. It seems as though the rumor I have heard is true—my colleague Lady Jorunn is refusing to leave Formacaster, and if I may say so, any time an army does not have to face a hillichmagnar in battle, it is a good thing for them.”

“Then things are looking up, aren’t they?”

“H’m...perhaps.” The sorcerer’s thick eyebrows contracted in a scowl. Then he looked at Edwin, and his expression softened. “Perhaps your uncle has learned a little prudence. It would not go amiss. Now if he would learn how to accept help, we might finally get somewhere.”

Edwin and Caedmon watched at the city gate while the army set up their tents outside the walls, and as the knights and retainers of Duchess Flora marched back up the High Street to the castle. Edwin got a few bows and a few nods, but mostly the men seemed tired, bedraggled, and ready to be done with the whole business of warfare. Their armor was tarnished, their banners hung limp and dusty. Their beards were wild and overgrown. Their eyes were fixed on the ground, hardly seeing what was around them.

One of the few men who noticed Edwin at the gate was Andras Byrne, second son of Duchess Flora, and one of her main cavalry commanders. Edwin liked Andras a great deal; they often practiced archery and sword fighting together. Andras was also supposed to be Edwin’s brother-in-law someday, though that was an awkward subject they tried to avoid.

Andras did his best to be reassuring. “It’s a temporary setback, nothing more. We’ll give it another try in the spring.”

“Do you think I might go along?” Edwin asked. “When we give this another try, I mean.”

Andras smiled. “Yes, I promise. If I have anything to say about it, anyway. At the very least, you can ride with my cavalry.”

Edwin quite liked that idea. Andras had knighted him a few months earlier, but he didn’t feel like a real knight yet. Maybe he would if he put on armor and fought a few battles.

Duchess Flora joined them a moment later. She was almost the last one through the gate, and like Andras, she was certain things would go better in the new year. Edwin tried to ask her, too, if he could ride with the army, but she had other topics in mind.

“Have you seen Elwyn yet?” she asked Andras.

“No, Mother. I imagine she’s up at the castle. Right, Edwin?”

Flora patted Andras on the back. “Go see her, dear. She’ll want to know that you’re safe.”

Andras caught Edwin’s glance and rolled his eyes. Then he mounted his horse and rode up the street after the retreating columns of knights and men-at-arms.

Flora put an arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “Could I have a word, your majesty?” She nodded at Caedmon. “In private, I mean.”

Caedmon bowed. “I was thinking I might have a word with the Earl of Hyrne. Perhaps he will be more receptive to advice now.” Then he left, and Edwin was alone in a shaded, mossy corner of the gatehouse with the duchess.

Flora smiled, and the thick layers of powder and paint crinkled around her mouth and eyes. “Edwin, darling, I was wondering if you might have a word with your sister Elwyn.”

“A word? What about?”

“Well, I was thinking perhaps it might be time for us to set a date for her marriage to Andras.”

Edwin bit his lip. “Um...she’s not going to be happy about that.” His older sister had only agreed to the engagement because it was fake. It was a public subterfuge to cement the alliance between the Byrnes and the Sigors.

“I’m aware of Elwyn’s...reservations. Your sister is so shy sometimes.”

“She is?”

Elwyn hated socializing and talking to people, particularly people she disliked. That wasn’t at all the same as being “shy.”

“Yes, dear. I would appreciate it if you’d get her to pick a date. She’ll take it better coming from you than from anyone else.”

That was certainly true, insofar as Elwyn probably wouldn’t throw things at Edwin. At least he didn’t think she would. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, though. But it was his duty, all the same. “Very well. I’ll have a word with her. I can’t promise anything, though.”

It started to rain as Edwin made his way back to the castle. Everything turned gray and foggy—a perfect match to the mood of the town, he thought. People huddled in their homes, out of the streets. Even the taverns seemed abandoned. If they had any customers, they weren’t in a partying mood. This was a day for sullen, solitary drinking.

Up at Dunharvin Castle, it took Edwin the better part of an hour to find his sister. No one knew where she had gone. He fully expected to find her in the stables with some handsome young knight, or perhaps with one of the housemaids. You never knew with Elwyn which it would be. But to Edwin’s surprise, he found her alone.

She was in the Noon Court, the private garden of the duchess, sitting by herself on a wooden bench and watching the rain. A little arbor stretched over her head, but it didn’t seem to be giving her much shelter. She didn’t look as if she cared, though. Her dark hair hung lank over her sodden riding dress. One lock draped over her eyes, and she hadn’t bothered to brush it away.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“No. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alright.” She wiped some of the water off her face.

“Did you see Andras? He’s back, you know.”

“Yes.” Elwyn sighed. “I’ll see him later, I suppose. I don’t have it in me to pretend right now, Edwin.”

“Fair enough.” He sat down next to her.

“I’ve been thinking about Keelweard.”

He knew she didn’t mean the battle they had just lost, or the city in general. “I heard the Cuthings are all safe,” he said. “The duke, Lord Rodger, and, um...Hildred, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” said Elwyn. “Hildred is like a cockroach. She’ll survive anything.” She wiped her eyes. The rain made it impossible to know if she was crying or not, which was perhaps why she was sitting out here.

Hildred and Elwyn had shared a very passionate affair, right up until Hildred had tried to betray them to the Gramirens. Out of respect for her father, the Duke of Keelweard, Edwin had declined to execute Hildred for treason. The treason wasn’t so bad, actually. It was breaking Elwyn’s heart that made Edwin hate her.

He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “She didn’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know,” said Elwyn quietly. “I think people tend to have the lovers they deserve.”

She was about to descend into morbid self-pity, so Edwin took the opportunity to change the subject. “Listen, I was talking to Duchess Flora, and she thinks it’s time for you and Andras to pick a date for your wedding.”

“Fuck that.” Elwyn stood, her slim frame shaking with rage. “Fuck that. I’m not the one who lost the fucking battle. I’m not a consolation prize to make the Byrnes feel better. Tell Flora she can take her wedding contract and shove it up her ass.”

“Fine, but maybe we could pretend to—”

“Dammit, I told you I don’t have it in me to pretend today.” She turned and stormed off into the rain, leaving her cloak behind on the bench.

Sometimes Elwyn was a mystery to Edwin. He could never understand why she did some of the things she did. Why, for example, was she so dead set against marrying Andras Byrne? Granted, they all knew Andras was in love with someone else—with Donella Gramiren, daughter of the false king, in fact. But that didn’t really explain the vehemence with which Elwyn rejected the match.

But then again, Elwyn was always passionate in her reactions to people. She either passionately hated them, or she passionately loved them. Hildred was just one example of this phenomenon. Sometimes she tried to fight against her feelings, as she had with poor Sir Alfred Estnor, the man she had almost married. But that had only made her fall harder for him in the end, which had made his death in battle even more devastating for her. Elwyn couldn’t help it—she fell hard for all her lovers, both male and female. She would get violently attached, and then her heart would get broken, and she would be miserable.

Edwin used to wonder why she did that. Why didn’t she ever learn? But he was a little older now, and—he hoped—a little wiser. During his trip to the north, he’d had a love affair of a sort, as well. And he thought he understood now why Elwyn got so attached whenever she fell in love. It was like drinking—it always felt good at the time. Only afterward did you realize what a bad idea it had been.

Edwin didn’t talk much to anyone about his own little heartache. He had told Elwyn about the girl he’d met at Atherton, and Elwyn was very sympathetic. And Caedmon had been along on the trip with Edwin, so he knew about the brief romance, too. But Edwin didn’t like to talk about it. He felt stupid about the whole business, and he felt even stupider because he couldn’t forget the girl: Penny Ostensen.

She was a regular feature of his daydreams now. Her long blonde hair, her wide blue eyes. Those curves in close-fitting dresses. He could still remember sitting with her on a rainy evening. He remembered kissing her, and he remembered how she’d let him do things...touch her in places he’d never touched a girl before. He had felt her breasts—her naked breasts. He was getting excited thinking about it now. She had wanted to run away with him. She had wanted to have sex. And they would have, except that Edwin had felt honor-bound to tell her who he really was.

That was how it had ended—an explosion of anger and a slap across his face. Not because she was the daughter of Duke Lukas, one of the top Gramiren commanders. She hadn’t really cared about the politics of it. She was angry that Edwin had lied to her. And in retrospect, he could see she was perfectly entitled to be angry.

He and Caedmon had been obliged to leave town rather quickly after that, since his cover was blown. So he would probably never see Penny again. But he still thought of her constantly. And he imagined that was how things were for Elwyn. Only in her case, she’d had so many more lovers and so many more nights of passion. She probably couldn’t get those nights out of her mind, any more than he could. Thinking of all those people she’d lost, all those times she could never get back—it was no wonder she was always so angry. It would have been a wonder if she hadn’t been.

He sat on the bench, in the rain, thinking of Penny, until he heard footsteps splashing up the garden path, and saw his uncle, the Earl of Hyrne, approaching with a cloak pulled up over his head. “Holy Finster, Edwin. What are you doing out here? You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I was...well, I was about to go in.”

“Good.” The earl held out his cloak. “Here, put this on. There’s going to be a council meeting in ten minutes, and you need to be there.”

Edwin sighed and went with his uncle. There wasn’t much point in his going to the council. Hardly anyone ever listened to him. On the whole, he would much rather have stayed out in the rain, dreaming of Penny, even if it did make him sad.