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“I learned from my father,” Raul said, when she asked. “He had served as a garrison commander in his younger days. Later, he found it useful to maintain a private company. They patrol the more remote regions of Valentain, and deal with smugglers along the coast. I served under our senior officers for a while, then led my own squad the year before I left for Duenne.”
“I never guessed,” Ilse murmured. “Though I should have.”
Raul’s mouth tilted into a smile. “It would be terrible, if you had guessed everything about me within a few months. It leaves us nothing for the future.”
The future. Which would be delayed for three years.
Her eyes stung with tears. She had not allowed herself to weep these past two weeks. She wanted to remember this interval with joy, a secret treasure to hold tight throughout her exile. Raul guessed her mood, but in silent agreement, he, too, never spoke of their coming separation. For the most part, they kept their conversation on the present—the hills turning green and golden with the advancing season, the logistics for setting up camp. Even that mention of his childhood was brief.
It was too much like their last hours in Tiralien, she thought.
“Until forever,” Raul murmured.
She glanced toward him sharply. He did not meet her gaze, but she could tell that his thoughts echoed hers.
Until forever, yes. He had promised that once. He was a man who kept his promises.
They had eight more days together, she told herself. Then a temporary exile. At least its ending lay within her control. She had but to find the third jewel and she could return. Their plans did not end there, of course. Until the exile began, however, she would not dwell upon further obstacles.
* * *
FIVE DAYS INTO their journey to the coast, the guard named Katje returned with a letter from Raul’s secretary in Tiralien. Valara observed the woman’s return from the edge of camp. Two guards sent, only one came back. Interesting. She noted how Kosenmark and Ilse Zhalina vanished for a private conference, well away from the campsite. She also noted how the other guards did not ask about their missing companion. More of Lord Kosenmark’s mysterious plans, which he had not bothered to share with her.
The private conference lasted nearly an hour. Valara mistrusted this delay, mistrusted this obvious exclusion. But when Kosenmark at last summoned her to join them, she hid her irritation. He was a king, whether or not he admitted it, and he behaved like one. She could picture her grandfather or father acting just the same. Or herself, once her council installed her on Morennioù’s throne.
The letter itself was short. Kosenmark’s secretary reported the ship acquired. Outfitting and repairs were nearly complete, and the captain predicted their ship would sail within the next week. The secretary also reported that the watch on the ports continued, with reinforcements brought in from neighboring garrisons. The royal fleet had doubled its patrols along the coast, by direct order of the king.
Which means by order of Markus Khandarr.
“What if your people arrive early?” she asked. “Or late?”
“The captain has his orders to send a boat to the island. The ship itself stands off the coast. If necessary, it sails away to avoid any encounter with the royal fleet. I have given my people a list of alternate plans to meet in case our first attempt fails. Once we come to the last of these, however, the world will rightfully judge us dead.”
Valara digested this information. It was more detail than she had requested. He had done her the honor of speaking candidly, at least about this subject. “And if we arrive early?” she asked.
“We wait our own ten days. If the ship does not appear, we must assume they have encountered difficulties.”
Difficulties, another word for secrets betrayed and plans come to grief.
“In that case,” Kosenmark added, “we must withdraw and devise a new strategy.”
She found herself smiling at the phrase, caught him smiling in return. Ah, he is a dangerous man. Too charming and clever. She would have to guard against that.
The following morning, they set off at a much faster pace. Kosenmark had rejected Valara’s suggestion of horses. They could move more easily, more unobtrusively, without them. So they marched at a punishing pace through the hills above the Gallenz River, angling north and east toward the coast, until they came to a small fishing village named Isersee.
There, Detlef bargained with the local fishermen for a boat and a pilot. The terms were high. The men obviously suspected these tough-faced warriors to be smugglers or brigands. In the end, however, they provided their largest boat, a single-masted cutter, which the village used to fish the outer reaches of the bay.
“What if they betray us?” Valara murmured to Kosenmark, after he finished speaking with Detlef.
“That is my concern,” he said. “You will have sailed far beyond pursuit before they can.”
An unsatisfactory answer. She would not be beyond Armand of Angersee’s grasp until she landed on Enzeloc Island, if then. Luxa’s Hand had already proved insufficient to the right spells. She rubbed her throat, remembering how her tongue had become like a separate creature under Khandarr’s magic. Markus Khandarr might not be Leos Dzavek’s equal, but he had more than enough skill to make him a dangerous enemy.
They sailed at dawn with the turning of the tide. Heavy blue clouds obscured the sky. The clouds thinned toward the horizon, and pale sunlight glanced over the rolling swells. Three fishermen had offered their services to Detlef, and together with Kosenmark’s versatile guards, they set the single sail and laid in a course for the southeast.
Rain spattered them throughout the morning, and as the swells increased, the seas broke over the boat’s bow. Valara spent the ten hours tucked in the small cabin. Ilse stayed with her, but the woman remained silent, her gaze turned toward the shuttered hatch. She has ransomed herself for her kingdom, Valara thought. A bout of sympathy overtook her, unlike any she’d experienced since she was a small child.
More rain. A muttering of thunder in the distance. The sun breaking through at last. The ship rode more smoothly over the swells. Eventually, Ilse went above. Valara remained by herself in the cabin, counting the miles by the song from the ship’s ropes. After a time, she slept.
