Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(45)

“I did it for her,” Mirabella replies. “Arsinoe needed me to do it. So I did. Sometimes I think that is my true purpose. Not to be queen, like the Westwoods and Luca convinced me of. But to protect her. Just to protect her.”





THE ROAD FROM BASTIAN CITY




Jules, Camden, Emilia, and Mathilde creep out of Bastian City beneath the cover of dark. They have only the supplies that can be carried on their backs and what money can be stuffed into their pockets. As they pass through the outer wall and move onto the main road, Emilia suddenly stops.

“What is it?” Jules asks, and Emilia bursts into muffled laughter.

“It occurs to me,” she says when she has quieted, “that in our haste for revolution, we have neglected to decide where to start.”

Jules groans. So does Camden, leaning heavily against her good leg. “Well? There are not too many choices. Do we head north for Rolanth? Or west toward Wolf Spring?”

“Neither,” says Emilia. “Word from Rolanth suggests they are still too bitter about their loss, yet also still too loyal to the temple.”

“And why not Wolf Spring? Have your bards made it there yet? What are they saying about the uprising?”

“They may have heard rumors,” Mathilde says. “But it is still too soon. In my experience, it is best to allow naturalists to warm to ideas slowly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jules asks.

“It means they are fast to say no. Nothing more.”

“It means they still hate the legion curse,” Emilia adds, less kindly. “Better to avoid Wolf Spring awhile. Dealings with naturalists are uncertain under the best of circumstances. They never want to get involved in anything.”

“Hey,” Jules says. “I’m a naturalist.”

“Yes, and you are the only one here who does not really want to rise.”

“Fine. So where, then, are we supposed to start?”

Mathilde adjusts her pack on her shoulders and begins to walk. “Why not start where we have already begun? My home of Sunpool is with us, as are many of the surrounding villages. They have been preparing for months, for they believe in the prophecy.” She gestures up the road. “We will go south around the capital and then skirt the mountains to the east. Once we are far enough north, we will begin speaking to the towns. Until the new force meets the existing one.” She looks at them over her shoulder, smile and white braid flashing in the moonlight. “Then we will circle back for Wolf Spring and Rolanth.”

“At least there is an inn,” Emilia says when they arrive in the village. “So we will not have to sleep in a barn.”

“A barn might be wiser,” says Jules. “Easier to run out the back if they don’t like your rabble-rousing and come for us with pitchforks.” She arches an eyebrow at the warrior, but Emilia is too tired to argue much. It has been a long walk on the roads and off the roads, cutting through fields and forests to avoid Indrid Down. All of them are weary, their cloaks and faces stained with dirt, in need of fresh supplies and a good wash. Even tall, elegant Mathilde looks like she wrestled a pig and lost.

“Come on.” Mathilde adjusts her pack and leads them to the inn. Jules glances back up the road toward the place she left Camden dozing in a patch of ferns. The cat will wait there until she is called.

The interior of the inn is not much, just one large room on the ground floor full of tables and wooden benches. A few men and women sit alone or in pairs, hunched over bowls of stew.

“Do you have rooms for rent?” Mathilde asks.

“Wouldn’t be much of an inn if we didn’t,” replies the girl behind the counter. “How many will you be needing?”

“Just one, large enough to sleep three.” Mathilde drops a few coins on the counter, and the girl slides them into her palm. “Does that also buy dinner?”

“Nearly. But you look so worn down that I’ll say it does. Another silver will buy you a hot tub of water to wash in.”

Emilia slaps two coins down. “We’ll take two tubs. And we’ll eat our meal here in your fine room.”

“As you like.” The girl studies them a moment. But if she finds them odd, two filthy warriors and an oracle bard in a stained gray-and-yellow cloak, she does not comment on it. Perhaps as a keeper of an inn she is used to strange travelers. Though Jules cannot imagine that many choose to stop in this tiny village.

“Are you fleeing from the capital?” the girl asks, and both Jules and Emilia tense. “We’ve had some folk from there passing through after what happened.”

“What happened?” asks Mathilde. “We have been traveling for some time. We have not heard.”

“Queen Katharine murdered a boy.”

“Murdered?” Jules gasps. But the girl only cocks her head and sighs, as if it is no longer news at all for how many times she has had to tell it.

“Aye. Right in front of everyone. More bodies had washed up on the shores of the capital, and the people were panicked. They started shouting at her and throwing things. One little boy broke loose and ran at her with something. Probably no more than a stick, but she sliced his head off, easy as you please.”

“Where was her queensguard?” Emilia asks.

“Dealing with the grown-sized people I’d imagine.” The girl’s lips curl in disgust. Then she cocks her head again and slips their coins into her pocket. “Two tubs will take a while, but I’ll get my boys on it. You can head up to your room now if you like. I’ll have them brought in.” She points up the stairs behind her. “First one up those stairs. Or any of them. They’re all empty.”