Page 40 of Her Cruel Redemption

Gwin hesitated a moment, and we shared a look. I could see what she wanted to know; should she deny her identity? I twisted my mouth. No point. If she wanted an audience with the king, she wouldn’t get that by hiding.

‘I am,’ she said, subtly lifting her chin and rolling her shoulders back. I felt a burst of pride in her. It must have taken her a lot to keep from shrinking the way she had been taught to do.

‘I’m Captain Rook. We’ve been instructed to escort you to Sarmiers,’ the soldier continued.

‘As a prisoner?’

‘As the guest of King Esario.’ He reassured her with a quick smile. ‘His Majesty has been expecting you. We’ve a carriage to bring you the rest of the way.’

She glanced towards the window, where there was indeed a carriage waiting, along with another handful of soldiers. ‘And as a guest, I can refuse?’ she asked mildly.

The soldier’s smile hollowed out, the warmth leaving his eyes. ‘His Majesty wanted me to remind you that you are the heir to a kingdom we are at war with.’ I could hear the subtext; she could be treated as a guest, or she could be treated as an enemy. The choice lay in her decision to go willingly or not.

Gwinellyn’s face didn’t change but she nodded. ‘And my companions?’

His eyes quickly scanned the group of glamoured Yoxvese now gathered behind her, moving over the huge figure of Goras and his swirling blue tattoos, the tiny, frizzy-haired Daethie, Tanathil surveying them curiously, Maelyn with her hand on a dagger at her belt, Elias moving in close to Gwinellyn’s side. Dirty and travel-worn, even after a bath and a sleep. Not exactly a royal parade. Then his gaze snagged on me, fixing on the scars on my face as his eyes flared with what looked like… realisation.

‘Captain?’ Gwinellyn prompted.

He forced his gaze back to her. ‘They’re also welcome in Sarmiers, Your Highness. All of your followers are welcome. There are many members of your court in the city already waiting for you.’

More followers. Goody.

‘Then I owe King Esario my gratitude,’ Gwinellyn replied, playing the part of the noble princess perfectly. Which was easy enough in some tiny village on the outskirts of nowhere with only soldiers and friends to perform for. How would she do when we reached Sarmiers?

There was only one way to find out.

Chapter Nineteen

Astorm was rolling in over the ocean, tossing the ships in the harbor from side to side. I watched them as Khatar listed their names and condition, his hand occasionally entering my peripherals as he pointed out a wave skimmer with its flexible, fin-like sails that could propel it through the water so fast it could glide across the crest of a wave, then a reef guardship, its hull painted in camouflage against the surrounding sea. A fleet of Morwarian ships was usually an interesting spectacle, but this one in particular failed to impress.

‘Where are the rest?’ I asked when he had finished talking. When he didn’t answer immediately, I turned away from the window to survey him. His rough-hewn, weathered face was tight, his thin mouth drawn in a frown.

‘There’s thirty-seven ships out there,’ he said, his accent rendering the words slanted and gravelly. As he spoke, one of my commanders appeared at the door. I nodded permission for him to interrupt.

‘The scout has arrived, Your Majesty. We’ve left him in that shipmaster’s office down the hall.’

My interest peaked. As did my impatience to be done with Khatar. ‘Thank you, Fenric.’ He withdrew. I returned to the matter of the harbour and its ships. ‘I asked for more.’

‘I’m not drawing ships from the coastal patrols,’ Khatar said, bristling. ‘If they all go down, I’ll have nothing left to protect the Bire Isles.’

I raised my brows as I waited for him to continue.

‘And what would the risk be for? All these months of border skirmishes, and now you want to strike right at the heart of the country?’ he resumed after a moment. ‘It’s senseless! I’ll not lose my entire fleet to it.’

‘You seem to be under the impression this is a negotiation,’ I responded, my voice steady. Cold. ‘It isn’t.’

He drew himself taller, puffing up like a blowfish, hands curling into fists at his sides. He was used to barking orders, not taking them. ‘You’ll not treat me like some lackey whose purpose is to do your bidding. None have done as I have done! I have united the Morwar Toth and won dominion over the sea! I do not bend to the likes ofyou.’

‘What’s your alternative?’ I drew closer to him, already stroking at the magic that slept quietly beneath my skin. It shivered to life, eager and hungry. ‘Would you like to leave the alliance, Khatar? You’re welcome to do so. Return to your rocky exile and give up your claim on the mainland. I wonder how long you’ll hold onto that dominion once your chieftains watch a final victory slip from your grip.’

‘Or I’ll lead the alliance,’ he spat. ‘And we’ll fight this war with honour instead of mind-grubbing and—’

‘Enough,’ I interrupted, tone sharp enough to cut across his sentence. ‘You’re skating dangerously close to offending me. You don’t want that, do you?’

I could see the instant the thought to strike me crossed his mind, the way his hand brushed at the scabbard on his hip. I could read it even without magic, could see it in the flicker of his eyes, in the slight shift of his feet, widening his stance. We moved at almost the same moment. He yanked his blade free, as though he thought acting fast would make the difference when I was already wrapping fingers of magic around his mind.

Overriding automatic bodily functions like breathing was always challenging. It meant both compelling my opponent to consciously stop inhaling and exhaling, but also supressing the body’s natural panic response just enough to keep the wrestling match of wills manageable. Panic was difficult to work with. But I also needed him to panic if I wanted to make my point.

---