Princeps’ Fury

Amara ground her teeth and focused upon her surroundings, upon how cold she was, separating herself from her thoughts and emotions-just as she would when attempting to deceive a skilled watercrafter. And then she drew up every memory of Bernard that she could summon-his steady silence in the field, his gentle humor telling a story of his day over dinner, the granite strength of his body as it pressed against hers in their bed, his laughter, his eyes, the scratch of his short beard against her throat when he kissed her neck-and a hundred memories more, running through every one of them, everything he was.

The Vord queen exhaled slowly, and said, “Her mind is disciplined. She hides him from me.” The pale, strange-eyed being turned away, and Amara felt the touch of its thoughts vanish. “Interesting.”

“Give me an hour,” Invidia said. “She’ll be less able to concentrate once we’ve spent some time with her.”

“We have work to do, and no time to waste on such pursuits,” the queen replied. She looked over her shoulder and stared at Amara, dark eyes glittering. “Come.”

Invidia rose, but looked at Amara with narrowed eyes. “That could cost us her mind, along with its contents.”

The Vord queen hadn’t slowed down. “The order of probability that she will know anything more useful than that we have already gained is very low. The risk is acceptable.”

“I understand,” Invidia said. She stared at Amara for another moment, then shook her head. “Farewell, Countess. When next we meet, I suppose it will be on friendlier terms.”

Amara’s heart pounded harder as the fear grew. “What do you mean?”

The shriek of the Vord queen echoed across the courtyard, and seconds later the air was filled with the thunder of Vord taking to the night sky on green-black wings.

“Brencis did an excellent job on my ribs, my lung, and my stomach,” Invidia said. “So don’t fear, Countess. I leave you in capable hands.”

Brencis stood over Rook’s motionless corpse, his face empty of anything but an odd, fey heat. He looked from the corpse to Amara, very slowly, his eyes unfocused.

“Brencis,” Invidia said, as the collared Alerans began to gather around her before she took to the sky. “Collar her.”

Amara’s scream of protest and horror was lost in the howl of a dozen windstreams lifting Invidia and her escort away from fallen Ceres.

CHAPTER 38

Isana could count on her fingers the number of times she had worn trousers. It wasn’t because it would have been terribly outrageous. Plenty of women could and did wear them on steadholts, especially those involved in gathering herbs in the forest, working around animals, or laboring in the fields. She’d simply preferred her gowns and dresses.

The flying leathers felt decidedly odd, especially the trousers, but they were quite warm. That was a necessity, Araris had cautioned her, when wearing metal armor in such cold weather. The metal itself would be cold enough to freeze to her skin if it had the help of a droplet of sweat or spittle. Or tears.

Or blood.

She shivered and adjusted the sword belt that held her long, armored coat closed. She checked the weapon again, sliding the gladius a bit out of the sheath and back in. The cold could freeze the weapon into its sheath if one wasn’t careful.

Aria, standing beside her, said, “There they are. Finally.”

Isana glanced up at the dark grey sky. “He was hoping for the weather to worsen,” she said. “A blizzard would make a public duel problematic.”

Aria sighed. “Probably.”

Isana didn’t turn around to face the Shieldwall. Once again, they stood on the meeting ground where they had spoken with the Icemen. The snow all around it was stirred into odd hummocks and bare spots, where the massive watercrafting she had wrought had disrupted the usual pattern of smooth drifts.

“Aria,” Isana said. “If I should… If today should not end well for me…”

“Ahhh,” Aria said. “That’s why you chose me to be your second instead of Araris.”

“I don’t think he’d be able to help himself. He’d tear into Antillus immediately.”

“And what makes you think I won’t?” Lady Placida asked, her tone completely calm.

Isana glanced aside at the High Lady and noted that Aria wore her slender sword at her side.

“Oh, not you, too,” Isana sighed.

Lady Placida gave Isana a smile that was startlingly wolflike. “Never fear. I’ll leave his hide intact. But I’ll flay his conscience from his bones.”

Isana nodded. “If nothing else… I think it will give you a genuine chance to talk him into doing the right thing.” A motion toward the edge of the trees drew her eye. A massive shape loomed there in the shadows of early dawn-Walker, the gargant. Doroga appeared from the shadows and leaned on his long-handled cudgel, a hundred yards away. He gave her a slow, respectful nod, which Isana returned.