Page 116 of The Princess Knight
Ronan’s knees screamed as he climbed.
When they reached the crest, a vast valley spread below them. Hundreds of tents rose from the grounds, and warriors walked among them. Warriors in Tinelannian white. This was the invasion force.
Kordislaen entered the camp to a hero’s greeting. Warriors came up to him and clapped him on his back. Welcomed him. Thanked him. His mouth stayed in a tight line, but his eyes held a glimmer of pride, and a joy Ronan didn’t recognize.
A woman approached Kordislaen. “It’s good to see you again.” Her white cape trailed behind her, as pale as her skin. With herbroad shoulders, she stood tall in silver armor. She held her head high, and the warriors around them watched her with respect.
She was a leader, even if Ronan couldn’t tell her rank.
Kordislaen gripped her arm in greeting. “Cuilinn, I hope you are doing well.”
“As well as we can. The gods must favor us—no man or weather tried to stop our advance into Scáilca,” Cuilinn said.
“If the gods truly favored us, then Tinelann would have no need for invasion,” Kordislaen countered.
Cuilinn’s laugh was deep and warm. “Or they know us well, and the invasion, this excuse to fight,isour blessing.”
It was one thing for Ronan to think that Kordislaen might be a traitor. To consider that his mistakes were purposeful. But seeing him banter with a Tinelannian warlord and laugh about invading his home country?
Ronan’s stomach turned.
“Who’s this you have with you?” Cuilinn asked. She looked Ronan up and down.
Kordislaen’s shoulders rolled back. “Captain Ronan Ó Faoláin. I had him placed as the captain of Prince Domhnall’s guard. He knows the palace—and the Scáilcan royals—well. I imagine he will be of great service in our next steps.”
Ronan’s head turned sharply toward the general.
I had himplacedas the captain of Prince Domhnall’s guard.
“We already have plenty of informants in the palace,” Cuilinn said.
Kordislaen’s chin tilted up. “Have they earned the trust of the Scáilcan prince and the Álainndoran princess?”
Cuilinn’s eyes lit up and her hand stretched toward Ronan.“Welcome, Ó Faoláin. I’m Chief Cuilinn of Tinelann. It’s an honor to have you among our ranks.”
Ronan tried to keep his hand from trembling as he shook the Tinelannian chief’s.
***
THE SUN WAS BEGINNING TO FALL WHENRONAN FOUNDhimself in a tent, alone with Cuilinn and Kordislaen. The Scáilcan general sat at a table, penning a letter in the dying light, as Cuilinn studied papers Kordislaen had brought her.
Ronan stared at the dirt below him. Thoughts raced through his head, loud and unending.
He couldn’t voice them. Not yet. Possibly not ever. He kept them locked away, alongside all the emotions that had been warring in him since he decided to confront Kordislaen at Caisleán.
“I expect we’ll be moving on Caisleán Cósta soon?” he asked instead.
The scratching of Kordislaen’s pen stopped. A beat. Ronan sent a silent prayer to the gods that Kordislaen wouldn’t sniff out his true intentions.
“A day from tomorrow,” Kordislaen said, looking up at him.
There was a lump in Ronan’s throat. He had never been a good liar.
“Good,” he said.
“Speaking of which,” Cuilinn began, “we must discuss the plans. King Ardal was insistent you lead this invasion while I meet with our allies, and I defer to his decisions, but do you really believe we should keep so many numbers to the east? If we divide—”
“We need to keep a central focus. Sending a few troops to the southern entrance, a few rounding the back up north, we can focus our energy on the west while also spreading their defense thin.”
