Page 5 of Heart of Defiance

Bertha grins fiercely. “And if they come back, we’ll do it all over again. Now let’s celebrate our first taste of freedom in three hundred years.”

Chapter Two

Landric

“Here, have another!” Arette the barkeep grabs the cup I’ve drained and pushes a second mug of ale into my hands.

She heads off across the square, exchanging empties for newly filled vessels, with a spring in her step to match the music. A melody of lute and horns lilts through the air. Over near the players, a bunch of my fellow townspeople are bounding around in a dance of celebration under the glowing lanterns.

Gunther the baker has been distributing fresh pastries as fast as he and his assistant can bake them. Novak the farmer is handing out the pears and plums he brought to sell.

Everyone who isn’t dancing is wandering around exclaiming over what a spectacular night it is. I haven’t seen this many smiles on my neighbors’ faces in… in possibly my entire life.

Next to me, Rupert wrinkles his nose at his own barelytouched mug of ale. He speaks with the dryly derisive edge I’ve gotten used to. “So this is what small town festivities look like. So… quaint. I suppose it’s not your fault when you don’t have much to work with.”

His two noble friends guffaw. I bite my tongue.

I do so much of that around the duke’s son that it’s a wonder I haven’t bitten right through. Rupert has a lot of opinions about my home and the people I’ve grown up with. Sometimes I’m not sure whether he takes the breaks from court life more to enjoy a little freedom or simply to gawk at his supposed lessers.

But I’ve been able to earn my way into his good graces. He doesn’t see me as quite the same clueless hick as everyone else in town.

So I will just keep biting my tongue until I can leverage this association into a career that sees my mother’s business secure—and me finally on my way out of this place.

Deiter, Rupert’s duller regular companion, gives the crowded square a puzzled frown. “What exactly are they celebrating again? Someone fought the Darium army?”

“Not the whole army,” I say. “A few soldiers were bashing up our fountain, and everyone got upset and managed to drive them off. We wouldn’t usually try to stand up to them.” Let alone hope to succeed.

The thought sends a quiver of excitement through me. I wish I’d been here to see the confrontation.

Even if just a glimpse of those skeletal uniforms can turn my gut into a lump as hard and cold as granite.

We only got the story secondhand after we headed into town for dinner once our fishing was done. The shadows shifting across the fountain in the lantern light show the statue of Adelheid is missing most of one arm, her nose and chin cracked off, a chunk missing from the jug that pours the water.

Looking at it sends a renewed pulse of anger through my veins. Can’t they let us keepanything?

Rupert makes a disgruntled sound and smooths back his pale hair from his ruddy face. “It’s bad business, really. Father always says we should workwiththe empire, not against them, and I agree. We’ll put ourselves in a much better position in the long run.”

It’s not as ifhe’sin a position to make any political decisions at the moment. As far as I can tell, the most responsibility Duke Berengar trusts his son with is not to drown in the river when he takes off on one of his country larks.

Deiter and Leonhard murmur in eager agreement, though, so I force a smile. “It obviously wasn’t a move made out of wisdom.”

Only the pure, totally justifiable craving for retribution.

I scan the crowd as if I might pick out my mother’s face, even though I already looked for Mom earlier. She’ll be off in the shop’s back room, sorting through inventory and fretting over whether the acquisitions and sales will balance out. She might not even know anything unusual has happened.

She used to smile a lot more. Laugh, even. When she and Dad handled the business together, his sharp mind for negotiating the perfect pairing with her persuasive warmth, life felt easy.

Now I constantly get the impression that she’s treading water, a few weak kicks away from going under.

I glance up toward the memorial on the hill. Even with the celebration, someone remembered to light the lantern that sends a glow over the glossy stone.

It’s been seven years since we carved Dad’s name into its side. Seven years since a Darium noble marched into a negotiation with a tradesman and cut Dad down for daring to bargain for what the noble had decided was already his.

We still don’t really know how to live without him.

Rupert lets out a low, dark chuckle that immediately puts me on the alert. “Oh, look, there’s the waif of refuse who somehow started it all.”

I yank my gaze back to the crowd. Signy is just weaving past us, carrying a bucket I can’t make out the contents of.

---