Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(91)

“Walk with me a moment, will you, Pietyr?”

As she leads him through the encampment she pauses every few steps to lay a blessing on the head of this person or that, soldiers who touch her robes as they pass or simply drop to one knee.

“What is wrong, Master Arron? You have seen these blessings before.”

“Of course. They just . . . remind me of who you are. I suppose in our close quarters on the Black Council, you have become less the High Priestess and more Luca to me.”

“I have lost my mystique.” Luca laughs. “Well. In the capital, none of these soldiers would do more than step out of my way. But all regain their faith in the face of a coming battle.”

“Queen Katharine is still sure it will not be a fight.”

“And I hope she is correct.”

“But you do not think she is.”

Luca bites her lower lip and tilts her head thoughtfully. “I think this rebellion has come too far to end without a battle.” She folds her hands. “Did you ever discover a solution for the problem we discussed? The problem of spiritual possession?”

“It was not a problem. Only a curiosity.”

“Ah.”

They pass by the priestess’s tent and come upon Bree and Elizabeth. Bree nods when she sees him, but when she looks upon Luca, her lips press together in a firm line.

“Is that—?” Pietyr asks, and points to a small black-and-white woodpecker climbing about on Elizabeth’s robes.

“It is!” Elizabeth scoops him up and shows him to Pietyr happily. “He rejoined us this morning, flew into my chest so hard he nearly pierced my heart!”

“He seems very . . . proud of himself.”

The bird, once again in Elizabeth’s lap, crawls up and down her legs excitedly and makes small chirping sounds.

“He has been like this since he returned,” says Bree. “We have fed and watered him, but he will not be calm. Perhaps he is proud.”

“No. He’s trying to tell me something.” Elizabeth reaches down to stroke his back, and he pecks her hard between the fingers. “Ouch! And he’s getting very upset that I’m not understanding what it is.”

Pietyr glances at Luca, who has fallen silent, watching the bird. “Well, I am sure you will figure it out.”





SUNPOOL




Just after dawn, Jules and Arsinoe stand together near the city gate, the stone of the square stretched out before them. The edges are crowded with what appears to be the entire rebellion, risen early to see their leader off.

“Seems like I should be more tired,” Jules says. “We hardly got a wink of sleep.”

“Nor me,” says Arsinoe as Camden yawns. Soon enough, Emilia and Mathilde will arrive with the small band of warriors and Mirabella and Billy, who have gone to the stable with them.

Jules lets go of a shaky exhale and looks Arsinoe up and down. Arsinoe tugs at her cloak and the coat underneath.

“You look like a real mainlander in Billy’s clothes.”

“Ha. Can you believe they nearly fit?” Arsinoe holds up her arms. Then she frowns. “Listen, Jules, I can’t go with you after Madrigal.”

“What? Arsinoe—”

“I’ve got to go on. I’ve got to go up the mountain. I can’t explain it. I just know I have to.”

“Can’t it wait even a few more days? We’ll ride fast through the pass to the valley—”

“No. I’m sorry. If there’d been more time . . . if I’d told you more of what I’d seen . . . what I’d dreamed, maybe you’d understand.” She puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But it will be fine, Jules. You don’t really need me anyway. Mira is more than enough.”

Jules frowns. “It would just feel better having you there with me.”

“I know. I wish . . . ,” Arsinoe starts, but does not know how to finish.

“Are you sure? I can’t wait around for you to change your mind.”

Hoofbeats clatter, and the warriors trot into the square, with Emilia leading on a horse as red as blood. A dozen warriors ride behind her, and Mathilde and Billy ride beside. Mirabella brings up the rear on a dappled gray, looking oddly uncomfortable on horseback.

“Fifteen,” Arsinoe says. “You can bet Katharine will bring fifteen hundred.”

“We won’t need that number. It is an ambush, not a battle, remember?” Jules and Arsinoe go forward to meet her mount, a stunning black gelding with four white stockings and a crescent on his forehead.

“Isn’t that Katharine’s horse?”

Jules takes the reins and grins as she leaps onto his back.

“The same one I stole the day of the hunt.” She pats his neck. “And still every bit as game as when he carried you half-dead through the mountains.”

“How fitting.” Arsinoe strokes his nose. “You should give him a name.”

“Or maybe I’ll just ask Katharine what it is.”

Emilia rides up close. “Another scout has returned,” she says. “Katharine has reached the valley and set up camp. She has put the war-gifted priestess Rho Murtra at the head of her army.”

“A fine thing,” Mathilde adds sarcastically, “ousting the warrior on the council and replacing her with a warrior priestess who, by the laws of the temple, should not acknowledge her gift. We are not the only ones shedding the old ways.”