“How can one rusting woman cause this much trouble?”

Millie couldn’t help but jump at the loud crash which accompanied her husband’s entrance into their suite of rooms at the Falcon’s Roost. To either side of her, Cecily and Evangeline exchanged glances, their needles pausing in between stitches. Millie put her needle through the linen shirt she was embroidering with blackwork, but didn’t pull it through, then set everything to one side on the table next to her chair. By the time Bennet had stormed into the solar, she was on her feet.

“What’s troubling you, my love?” She crossed the room and took his hands in her own, angling her face up to look into his eyes.

“Julianne’s Eldish witch destroyed the waystone at Ashford,” Bennet snarled. Every line in his body spoke of tension and anger. “Which means all of the troops we sent there will need to march overland all the way to Chestnut Hollow. They can’t possibly get here in time to join the main force.”

“Mother told you not to underestimate her,” Evangeline chided her younger brother. For a woman on the verge of becoming a spinster, Millie thought that she seemed entirely too satisfied with herself.

“If Brodbeck destroyed the waystone, surely she’s trapped in Ashford, though?” Cecily Falkenrath asked. “She’d leave herself with no way out, either.”

“You would have thought so, but apparently not,” Bennet said. He clasped Millie in his arms, and she imagined that she could simply soak up all his anger, like a bath-towel, to leave him calm again.

“You know how it is getting information by bird,” the Lord Commander of Lucania’s crown forces complained. “Even with a Sherard brat nearby to interpret, you only get fragments. Their little skulls can’t seem to hold much of use to a human. But supposedly she vanished in a flash of light after breaking the stone.”

“But Ashford has fallen, hasn’t it?” Millie asked, running one hand up her husband’s arm.

“Yes,” Bennet admitted. “Yes, that was never in doubt. Between the royal guards and the barons you lined up at our wedding, nevermind the fact they were taken unprepared, there was never any question of that.”

“You’ve won the first victory of the war, then,” Millie told her husband, with a grin. “Those traitorous Grenfells have been run out of the kingdom, and that means we don’t have to worry about them causing trouble behind our lines, just like you said. Losing one waystone isn’t the end of the world, my love. And those troops will get to us, eventually. A delay isn’t going to change the final result. You’re doing wonderfully.”

Bennet’s eyes flicked over to the two ladies in waiting, who each had now followed their princess’s lead in setting aside their needlework.

“I’d like a moment alone with my husband, please,” Millie said. That was all it took to see both Cecily and Evangeline rise, curtsy, and withdraw. Only after the door was shut, when no one else could hear, did Bennet continue.

“Jasper Cawley is dead. The witch dropped him off the battlements of the castle, apparently, and cracked his head open like a melon. Arianelle Seton’s apparently wounded badly enough they don’t want to move her. That’s two of Arundell’s fighting mages that were supposed to be joining us that we won’t have.”

Millie stopped herself from reminding her husband that she’d warned him about the half-Eldish girl, and that she’d said over and over not to underestimate Julianne’s brat. That wouldn’t be helpful, now. She needed Bennet calm and thinking, using that wonderful strategic mind of his to win this war.

“We have plenty of magic with us,” she reminded him, instead. “We have the guild mistress herself - they don’t have a single archmage. And my grandmother will be here by the time we march. She’s due tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Bennet pressed his face into her hair, and she could feel the great exhalation in his chest when he allowed his body to melt into hers. “There is one good thing,” he mumbled. “Apparently she quite obviously threw lightning down from the sky. No one can doubt she’s using the royal word of power, now.”

“See?” Millie rose on her tiptoes, craned her neck to the side, and found his cheek with her lips. “You always find the advantage somehow, my love. I have no doubt you’ll do it again. I have no doubt you’ll secure our throne. Our child’s throne.”

“Are you -” Bennet pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. “It’s too soon. You can’t possibly know yet, can you?”

“My grandmother taught me a few things before we were married,” Millie told him. She couldn’t help but grin. It would work; grannie had promised. And she’d sacrificed half a dozen more animals, both before and after her wedding night. She was certain that would be enough to earn the Great Mother’s blessing.

☙

Millie couldn’t take her eyes off Bennet as he leaned forward over the map which covered the high table in the great hall of the Falkenrath’s castle. The servants had dragged it down from the dais and turned it lengthwise, clearing out the other tables and benches at which knights and men at arms would normally feast. This was the only room in the castle large enough for a war council that included so many barons, mages, and commanders.

Duke Thomas Falkenrath was there, of course, with his son, Thurston, and several of his knights clustered around them - the dour old man who’d greeted her when she first arrived among them. Falkenrath was closer to sixty than fifty, Millie knew, and the fact he hadn’t pushed his son or daughter into marriages yet made little sense. The entire family was odd, and their word of power downright disturbing. She’d never seen any of them kill anything larger than a mouse, and Cecily insisted that Nec was practically useless against humans, but the very fact of the word of death’s existence, combined with the family’s unusually pale skin, always gave her second thoughts.

Baron Reginald Arundell had brought his family’s famed Lightning Guard, named for their devastating use of blades enchanted with Vefta, the word of speed. At his right hand stood a dour man, thin as a reed, with as much white as orange streaking his hair and beard. Baron Aldred Fane’s son, Anson, had been one of Liv Brodbeck’s first victims, and the man had apparently stripped the very garrison from his keep to bring with him on his quest for vengeance. Millie noticed how rapidly Aldred drained his cup of wine, but she cared more about the soldiers he brought than whether the man was a sot.

Baron Gerold Talbot had remained at Bradon Bridge, but Cade lurked near the end of the table. Millie had already ordered her ladies in waiting to keep a close eye on that one; having him by the short hairs had proved useful not only in securing troops from his house, but also Boyle knights and levies at Ashford. Still, she didn’t trust anyone who’d spent six years betrothed to the Brodbeck girl.

Millie’s uncle, Baron Kerlin Ward, stood close to Baron Seton, talking quietly enough that she couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was Seton’s daughter who’d been wounded at Ashford, and the princess wasn’t certain yet whether that would put steel in the father’s spine, or rattle him.

Richard, the Duke of Carinthia, was the picture of confidence. His back was ramrod straight, his jaw firm. As Millie watched, he circled around the table to join Falkenrath’s group of hangers on, and the two dukes exchanged words.

“As many of you have no doubt already heard, the waystone at Ashford was destroyed during the fall of the castle,” Bennet said, his voice carrying easily through the hall. Murmurs and side conversations died away as the Prince and Lord Commander of the assembled army began. “As a result, the troops from Houses Banks, Gage, Boyle, and Tryon have been left out of position. They are marching to join us, but they will not arrive before we leave Courland. Nonetheless, they accomplished their objective: Ashford has been taken. Baron Erskine will brief us on what he’s learned about the enemy.”

The Baron of the Strand stepped forward; Millie hadn’t even noticed his presence until her husband had called for the man to address the command group. It was always difficult to tell whether the crown’s spymaster was actually using his word of power, or if he was just such a slippery character that he naturally kept himself to the shadows and out of the way places.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Raiding the Aspen Valley was a mixed success,” Erskine declared. “We burned half a dozen farms and planted Archmagia Arundell’s nightmare stones, which should be a blow to enemy morale. However, we lost half our scouts to an Eldish ambush, including my son Rowan.”

“Eldish? Are you certain?” Duke Richard broke in.

“They chased us all the way back through the mountains,” Galleron Erskine shot back. “It was all we could do to stay ahead of them and get to Courland. I saw them at our heels day in and day out, so yes, I’m certain, Your Grace.”

“The Eld have always stayed out of Lucanian affairs,” Baron Ward spoke up. “If that’s changed, we need to know to what extent. One house? Two? What kind of bargain has Julianne struck with them?”

“I recognized the man leading them,” Erskine answered. “Inkeris of House Bælris. The same one who came to address the great council just over seven years ago.”

Cade Talbot let out a sharp bark of laughter, and everyone around the table turned to look at him.

“You have something to share, Lord Talbot?” Bennet asked. “Some pertinent piece of information, perhaps?”

“Don’t tell me this surprises you?” Cade said, looking around the assembled leaders incredulously. “Liv’s had close ties with at least three Elden houses for as long as I’ve known her. Keri was the one who came to Coral Bay to tell her that her grandfather was on his deathbed. Of course he’s there now.”

“Which three houses,” Duke Thomas Falkenrath asked, his voice cutting through the grumbling that filled the room at Cade Talbot’s words.

“Bælris, Keria, and Syvä, at the very least,” the dark-haired young man said.

“You cannot be implying that three Elden houses are going to fight with Julianne’s forces?” Baron Ward protested.

“I’m implying nothing,” Cade shot back. “You should have listened to what Liv’s father told you at Freeport - that if anyone hurt his daughter, he’d pull the palace down on their heads. If I were you, Howe, I’d expect nothing less than every Elden House in the north to line up against you.”

Millie frowned. Talbot hadn’t addressed her husband by any proper title, and the way he’d spoken, it was as if he didn’t consider himself part of the crown forces at all.

“That’s ridiculous,” Baron Seton objected. “For a single half-Eldish bastard?”

“House Keria’s stance, at the very least, I can confirm,” Galleron Erskine said. “They took active steps to prevent our people from seizing the Brodbeck girl the entire time she was staying in Al’Fenthia. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll send troops, but I think we must assume they’ll be willing to sell supplies, at the very least.”

The doors of the great hall opened, and Millie looked, with all the rest of them, to see who’d arrived. When she recognized her grandmother, leaning on Archmagia Arundell’s arm, she couldn’t help but leap up from her chair and rush down the aisle. “Grannie! You’ve come!”

Genevieve Arundell stepped to one side, her expression concealed by the mask she wore, which allowed Millie and the dowager queen to embrace. Behind the two women, Merek Sherard, one of Millie’s younger cousins, waited respectfully.

“You’ve done as I taught you, girl?” Millie’s grandmother whispered while they held each other close.

Millie nodded. “I have.”

“Good.” The dowager queen stepped back and put her arms on her granddaughter's shoulders, looking Millie up and down. She murmured something, an incantation, in Vædic, and then nodded in satisfaction. Millie offered the old woman her arm, and together the three of them approached the foot of the table, where a space was quickly cleared.

“Baron Every’s troops have been delayed,” Millicent Loredan announced. “There is no reason to delay any longer before marching, Lord Commander Howe.”

Bennet frowned. “What happened?”

“A bridge washed out by an early flood, supposedly,” the queen regent said. “”He is now aiming to link up with the four houses who marched on Ashford.”

“We will consider them all to be reinforcements,” Bennet said. “Depending on how long it takes us to capture the pass, they may even have time to arrive before we proceed to Whitehill itself. There is no waystone between Courland City and the pass, so we will march overland. Baron Reginald, will you do us the honor of commanding the van?”

Reginald Arundell inclined his head. “It would be my privilege, Your Royal Highness.”

“Excellent. You will take our remaining scouts, your own knights, one hundred infantry from House Fane, and another two hundred crown infantry,” Bennet instructed. “I don’t expect any trouble in our rear, but Duke Richard, I would ask you to command there.”

“Of course.” The Duke of Carinthia nodded without the slightest hesitation, though Millie caught Thurston Falkenrath shoot his father a dissatisfied look.

“You’ll have the bulk of our cavalry, so that you can respond quickly to reinforce the line of march if needed,” Bennet continued. “I will command the remaining infantry, the siege and supply wagons, the peasant levies, and the crossbowmen and archers in the main line of march. Baron Erskine will be my second.” He raised his gaze from the map, looking down the length of the table to where the dowager queen stood at Millie’s side.

“May I rely on Your Royal Highness and House Sherard to scout the surrounding area from the above?”

“You may.” Millie’s grandmother nodded. “I’ve brought my grand-nephew to assist me in that regard.”

“And may I ask, Archmagia, how many mages you’ve brought from the guild?”

When Genevieve Arundell spoke, it was in a croaking rattle that nearly made Millie shiver in revolution. No one had seen the woman’s face since her fight at Coral Bay, but it was clear she’d been marked by the experience.

“Twelve apprentices, nine journeymen, seventy-six culling mages, and a dozen masters,” Arundell said. “One hundred and nine mages, all told, in addition to myself, and not counting barons or their families who never joined the guild.”

“We’ll have the undeniable advantage in magic, then,” Aldred Fane declared, setting his goblet down on the table with sufficient force to spill wine over the lip and stain the map. “With just those in this room, that puts us over a hundred and thirty with words of power. The rebel bastard has what, half a dozen?”

“Julianne and Henry,” Baron Erskine answered, listing off names and counting them on his fingers, hands held high enough for everyone to see. “Their son Matthew and Beatrice Crosbie. How many of the other Crosbies will join them, we don’t yet know, but that could be as many as nine more magic users. Brodbeck. Their court mage, Kazimir Grenfell. And at least a score of Eldish riders, all of whom will have a word of power.”

“That’s still only thirty-five,” Fane insisted.

Galleron Erskine grimaced, as if he’d bitten into a cut of meat gone rancid. “We must assume that is not the full extent of their magic,” he argued. “Brodbeck fled Coral Bay with a group of friends. Lady Rosamund Lowry and Lady Sidonie Corbett, for instance - and both of their families are conspicuously absent from our mustered forces. A great deal depends on the extent of their Eldish support.”

“I will send word to my father to raise objections with Ambassador Sakari,” Millie volunteered. “This rebellion is an internal matter, and foreign houses have no business involving themselves.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Bennet said, and met Millie’s eyes. She couldn’t help but smile back at her husband. “What about Archmagus Loredan?” he asked, glancing between the three women at the foot of the table.

“My brother in law has declared that he is too old to go on campaign, and that his students are his primary responsibility,” the dowager queen responded. “Archmagia Arundell has my complete faith, however.”

“We’ll be relying on you to handle Julianne Summerset,” Bennet declared. “She has the royal word of power, and it's well known she was a prodigy before she left Coral Bay.”

“If Julianne had spent the last twenty-five years pushing herself to become an archmage, instead of raising her brats, she might be able to match me,” Arundell croaked. “As it is, she doesn’t have a chance.”

“She isn’t the one you need to worry about, anyway,” Cade Talbot declared, with a grim smile on his lips. “Liv won’t have been idle since she left Coral Bay.”

“A single journeyman will not change the course of the war,” the dowager queen shot back. “No matter how talented.”

“Indeed not,” Bennet broke in. “Which brings me to our final deployment. Duke Falkenrath, I’d like you to hold back your troops here. At our signal, I’d like you to use the waystone to attack behind enemy lines. Take their waystone if you can, collapse their mines at Bald Peak. Foul their river, burn their farms. Do everything you can to cause chaos in the Aspen Valley.”

“They will have the waystone guarded,” Thurston Falkenrath objected, raising his voice. “They’ll fill our men full of crossbow bolts the moment they arrive.”

“Even that will force them to split their troops,” Bennet said. “It will be a costly assault, but I have faith in Duke Falkenrath to do what must be done for the good of the kingdom.”

Thomas Falkenrath put his hand on his son’s arm, before the young man could speak any further. “It will be done, Lord Commander. You may count upon us.”

“Excellent.” Bennet looked up and down the table, making eye contact with the barons and commanders in turn. Once again, Millie felt her heart swell with pride in her husband. “We march at dawn.”