Page 22 of Daughter of the Ninth Line: Part One

Hatred mixed with the pain and fear in Eugene’s eyes as Lucio whistled, calling away his war cat. There were divots on Eugene’s throat, proof that it had just been a fraction of force away from killing the man.

A soft noise had me searching for Quarry, and I found the raven near the fence, his wing hanging loosely by his side. I fell to my knees in the sand, his soft caws filled with pain. “Oh, sweet boy, did he get you?” I stroked Quarry’s head, holding my breath. Blood dripped from his wing, and I hoped Eugene hadn’t done irreparable damage. “Does anything else hurt?”

“He says that it’s just his wing. But he’ll need to go to the healer,” Lucio informed me softly over my shoulder. “He also said don’t cry.”

I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying, but when I swiped at my cheeks, they were indeed wet. I looked up at Lucio. “He said don’t cry, or was that you?”

Lucio grinned down at me. “A little of both. Reach down, and he’ll hop on your arm. Or I can take him if…”

I was already shaking my head. “No. He got hurt protecting me. I’ll take him; I owe him that and much more.” The war cat huffed, and I smiled down at her. “You too. Thank you for defending me.”

The war cat just sat on her haunches, giving me an imperious glare as she cleaned the fur that was ruffled on her shoulder. I’d find a way to thank her later.

I leaned down and Quarry hopped onto my arm, his wing still hanging limply. “Come on, handsome.” I looked over at Lucio and Viana. “Thank you both too. I…”

Viana waved me away. “It’s what friends do. We have your back.”

I raised an eyebrow at Lucio, who shrugged. “Hayle told me to look after you. You’re important to him, so you’re important to all the Third Line here at Boellium.” He grimaced. “He’s going to kick my ass when he realizes how close you came to losing your head on my watch. I won’t let it happen again. I swear it.”

None of this made sense to me. Not why Eugene was so pissed at me, or why Hayle was making his Line look out for me. We had a barely casual friendship and a few kisses between us, that was it.

Those were questions for my insomnia demon tonight.

Sighing, I excused myself from battle training and went to the healer. The trainers didn’t even blink; they’d likely seen the whole thing and hadn’t lifted a finger.

For the first time since I arrived, I seriously wondered if I’d even survive Boellium.

Fourteen

Hayle

It was standard practice that when a Conclave was called, the current Barons brought their spare Heir. The official Heir to the Lines stayed in their seat of power, out of harm’s way, and acting as an underlying threat in case of betrayal from one of the other Lines.

Any Line could call a meeting of the Conclave, and we’d all have to journey to Fortaare and hear their grievances. Most of the time, it was tedious shit: taxes, land disputes, tariffs, that kind of thing. However, the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines had called this Conclave in conjunction with each other, and it was already proving more exciting than the sixteen other Conclaves I’d had to attend over the last six years.

Feodore Vylan waved a hand. “I understand that you’re facing hardships, Baron Abaster, but we govern our own Baronies. It has been that way since long before my time, and the times before my father. It is not the responsibility of the rest of the Lines to save you from poor planning.”

Jacob Abaster bared his teeth at the Baron of the First Line, our ruler, and if I hadn’t been able to scent the rage coming off him in waves, I’d almost think it was a smile. “I understand, Baron Vylan, but our people are starving. This drought is aonce-in-a-hundred-year weather event. We need aid from the Capital.”

“A once-in-a-hundred-year event would insinuate that this has happened before. What did you do a hundred years ago?” Roderick Rovan asked haughtily, his nose scrunched as he took in the Lower Lines across from him.

Ingrid Ulsen glared at the man across the table. She was the only female Baroness at the table. “Wedied, Baron Rovan. The Eleventh Line barely survived the Great Drought 163 years ago, and we did it by seeking aid with the Eaglehoth, who graciously allowed the survivors refuge until the drought broke. Our numbers dropped into the hundreds, and it has taken a hundred years for our population to recover.”

Baron Rovan, of the Fourth Line, shrugged. “Can’t Eaglehoth come to your aid again then?” He looked at the Baron of the Eighth Line, like it was his fault he was sitting at the Council table with the rest of us plebeians.

If Ingrid Ulsen was the only female Baron at the table, then Zier Tarrin was the only Baron under the age of fifty. Zier had come into his Baronacy three years ago at the age of twenty-seven, when his father died in a hunting accident. The new Baron was a lot less patient with the bureaucracy of these events, and I couldn’t fault him.

“We would, as we don’t believe that we could just sit by and watch as our neighbors starve to death. However, we can’t take this many drought refugees without sending our own people into a famine.”

There was a not-so-subtle censure in his words, and honestly, I agreed. Having spoken to the Twelfth Line conscripts now, I was a little more sympathetic to their plight than if I’d been living it up over here close to the mainland, with bountiful access to hunting, the ocean and farm land. The food on the tableat last night’s welcome dinner must have felt like a slap in the face to the Lower Line Barons.

I looked at my father.We should offer assistance. There’s power in the Lower Six Lines, despite what Vylan and Rovan think. I’d rather have six friends at my back than enemies all around.

My father inclined his head slightly to tell me he’d heard me and agreed. The fact that our family could speak mind to mind was a well-kept secret and had been the ace up our sleeve in many of these negotiations. “I believe that no matter our Lines, we have a duty to Ebrus to care for all its people. The Third Line will send what aid we can to the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines.”

“As will the Eighth,” Zier Tarrin agreed, and I saw some relief in his expression. I had a feeling that no matter what decision was made today at the Conclave, Tarrin would have provided aid to the Eleventh and Twelfth Lines.

I’d suggest to my brothers that perhaps a visit to Eaglehoth might be advantageous soon. My father was already talking about retiring to spend more time with family, and Remy and Lyle would step up sooner rather than later. Having good relations with a younger Baron would definitely ease the tension of these things.

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