So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(133)

Rupert nodded. “I’m going to name Ansel as my admiral. And you, old friend, how do you feel about returning to the army? As my general.”

Stefan snorted. “I think I know who should be second in command.”

Rupert smiled. “Five?”

Stefan nodded. “The northern clans remained loyal.”

“Yes, thank the Light.” Rupert would always be grateful, but he knew, for the future of Tourin, he couldn’t be just a northern king. He needed to unite the entire country. “I think Six would make an excellent chief counsel. And even though Four is an Eberoni, I would like to implement his ideas for farming. I don’t want any of my people to live in hunger.”

Stefan chuckled. “It looks like the losers from the competition are actually the winners.”

“They’re good men.” Rupert snorted. “I need to learn their actual names.”

“Is it true, Admiral?” Jeffrey ran up to him, his eyes wide. “Are you really going to be king?”

Rupert tousled the boy’s hair. “That’s the plan.”

“Whoa,” the boy breathed. “You’re going to wear a crown and sit on a throne?”

Rupert smiled. “I don’t plan on doing a lot of sitting.”

Jeffrey bit his lip. “What will happen to me?”

“What do you want to happen?” Stefan asked. “You can assist me with the army, or you can stay on board and help Ansel with the navy.”

“Oh.” Jeffrey scratched his head. “I still want to be a sea captain.”

“Then you will work for Ansel,” Stefan told him.

“All right.” Jeffrey gave them both a sad look. “I’ll miss you, though.”

Rupert patted the boy on the shoulder. “I’ll see you whenever I need to travel by sea.”

Jeffrey smiled, then pointed up at the sky. “Look! The pelican is back.”

Rupert headed down the stairs to the main deck just as the pelican landed. “Brody?”

With a squawk, the bird hopped through the door to go belowdecks. Rupert hurried down to his old cabin, and Brody joined him there in human form.

“You have news?” Rupert asked as he tossed him a pair of breeches.

“Hungry?” Stefan walked in with a tray of food.

“Oh, good.” Brody stuffed a piece of roast beef in his mouth, then put on the breeches. “I’ve been flying for days. I’m starving.”

“What’s going on?” Rupert asked.

“Good news.” Brody poured himself some wine. “The Trevelyan clan has rallied the north and they’re marching south toward Lourdon. On the eastern border, the Norveshki warriors are raiding villages and their dragons are terrorizing the people. They haven’t actually hurt anyone, but they’ve got everyone scared to death.”

Rupert winced. “And to the south?”

Brody downed his cup, then continued, “King Leofric has amassed an army on the border. He’s claiming kinship to Brigitta and says they will attack if she’s not delivered to them in three days. Meanwhile, the notices are being spread across the land, claiming you as the new king.”

Stefan smiled. “Excellent.”

Brody nodded as he bit off a chunk of bread. “I see you took care of the navy.”

“Yes.” Rupert refilled Brody’s cup. “Do you know what’s happening in Lourdon?”

Brody winced. “Gunther’s skulking in the palace. Mador has been named the new general, and he dispatched a few troops to the north and east.”

“But he didn’t go with them?” Rupert asked.

“Not yet.” Brody shook his head. “I couldn’t get close enough to catch the Chameleon’s scent. He’s somewhere in the palace, but I don’t know who he’s pretending to be.”

Rupert grew tense. “And Brigitta?”

Brody looked away, frowning.

“What is it?” Rupert demanded.

Brody grimaced. “She’s getting married to Mador four days from now.”

Rupert flinched. “No. No, she would never agree—”

“I heard she did,” Brody muttered.

“No!” Rupert shouted. “She’s being forced.” He fisted his hands. “I have to get there before the wedding.”

“You can’t march into Lourdon yet,” Stefan protested. “Mador is there with most of the army.”

“I will blow them all away!” Rupert gritted his teeth. “If Brigitta wants a wedding, she can have one. But her groom will be me.”





Chapter Thirty-Six

THREE DAYS LATER …

Tomorrow morning she would be wed.

To the wrong man. The words echoed in Brigitta’s mind as the seamstresses made the final adjustments to her wedding dress.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

Norah looked up from where she was pinning the hem. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. Every bride gets nervous before the wedding.”

“Do they get nauseated?” Panic bubbled up inside Brigitta’s chest. “Do they feel like throwing themselves off the balcony?”

Norah and Marthe exchanged worried glances.

“Captain Ma—I mean, General Mador is a fine catch,” Marthe murmured.