Warrior Witch (The Malediction Trilogy #3)(20)
Chapter Twelve
Tristan
Dawn came far too soon.
While Cécile disappeared to check on Aiden, I spent the first hours of the morning listening to the tallies of soldiers, arms, and supplies. To strategies put forth by men who had no real concept of what they were facing. Even with my little demonstration, the idea that Roland could stand in the face of an army’s worth of artillery and laugh was inconceivable to them. And though the Regent’s council remained uneasy in my and Victoria’s presence, it didn’t take long for them to start talking over us. Fred they included in the conversation – given Aiden was only a ceremony away from becoming Regent – but the volume of his voice suggested he was no less frustrated.
“They really are quite dense,” Victoria said, sliding her chair back a couple paces and settling her booted heels on the table with a thud. Several of the men shot her appalled glances, but she ignored them. “Maybe we should have sent them down to watch Marc push boats out to sea.”
“I believe they are called ships,” I said, the conversation around us stalling, just as she had intended.
“Semantics,” she declared, and began pruning her fingernails with a razor sharp filament of magic. When all twelve pairs of eyes at the table were on her, she asked, “Are you lot of armchair generals ready to listen or must I sit through another hour of your abysmal strategies?”
Eyes bulged and jaws twitched, but before anyone could speak, the door opened and Marc came in, an out-of-breath man trailing at his heels. “First ships have returned,” my cousin said. “But not all of them will make it back.” He nudged the man. “Tell them.”
The sailor peered up at Marc, trying to get a glimpse within the depths of his hood, then seemed to think better of it. “We went up the coast, but kept lights out and silence on the deck as she directed,” he nodded at Victoria. “There’s some coastal villages that seem untouched – could see folk moving about with torches and lanterns – but others…” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “They’re nothing but glowing pits of char.”
The councilmen broke out in exclamations of dismay, but I held up a hand to silence them. “How many?”
“Four, by my count.”
“And how far down the coast has he reached?” I gestured to the map on the table, watching as he tapped a finger against a hamlet located on the Ocean Road. “This is where we saw him.”
“Not that far from Trollus,” I muttered to Victoria.
She nodded, tapping her bottom lip. “They could be much further if all they cared about is destruction.”
The look in her eyes told me we were thinking the same thing: that just as Cécile had said, Roland was taking oaths of loyalty from those who surrendered. What he might choose to do with those oaths made my stomach clench. Then the sailor’s words finally settled. “You saw him?”
The sailor nodded, face pale. “Was hard to make out anything in the dark, so we stayed until dawn, but retreated away from the coast so we needed a scope to see.” He blew out a long breath. “Came down onto the beach, and he was just a boy. Just a boy.”
How many times had the same sentiment stayed my hand?
“He waded in – didn’t seem to care a wit about the cold – and then he started splashing his hands in the water like a child. Laughing like a child. But the ocean moved.”
“It does that, I hear,” Victoria said, but there was little levity in her voice.
“It was like a giant was playing in the water. Or a god. All my life has been spent at sea, and I’ve never experienced waves like that.”
There was nothing heavier than the ocean. A bead of sweat ran down my spine.
“Then the ship closest to the coast disappeared under the surface, only to reappear and be plunged down again.” His eyes went distant. “Like a toy in a bathtub. But the men were screaming…” He shook his head sharply to dispel the memory. “Thought we were all done for, but an ice fog came in fast and no one could see more than a few feet either way. Not even him.”
She’d interfered to save the ships. But why? I left Victoria to continue questioning the sailor as I considered the Winter Queen’s motivations. First her showing Cécile Angoulême’s plans and now this? It seemed almost as though she were siding with us against him, but it couldn’t be that simple. She wasn’t trying to rid the world of my brother out of the goodness of her heart – there wasn’t a benevolent bone in her body. There had to be something in it for her.
“He’s telling the truth,” Marc said. “I was on the docks when the waves came in. I did what I could, but…” He lifted one shoulder. “Most of the harbor was destroyed, lower reaches of the city flooded. Those living there will need help.”
“So much for your protection,” one of the councilmen muttered, but I ignored him, giving the command to evacuate those whose homes had been damaged to higher ground as my mind turned to my father and Angoulême.
Both of them were banking on my refusal to harm my brother. Cécile had heard Angoulême say as much, and even if she hadn’t, the fact that the Duke was allowing his puppet prince to roam in plain view made it abundantly clear. If he truly believed Roland was at risk from me, he’d be taking more care. And my father? I toyed with the cuff of my sleeve, wishing I had any such certainty about his strategy. He had the capacity to stop Roland, but he hadn’t done so. He had the ability to pull Trianon out from under me, but hadn’t so much as stirred from Trollus. And the Winter Queen? I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, the questions Cécile had raised making me wonder if her actions were part of a larger game than I realized.