Page 120 of Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen 2)

“And alert them to our position? We’d be facing more than one invading force if we did that. No, we need…”

Their words washed over her like the rising tide, stealing her breath, a deadly undertow threatening to pull her under. She stared and stared at the map of her greatly diminished kingdom, the land lost the first in recorded memory, and that wasn’t all that distinguished it. When would the ravening hungers of the invaders be slaked? With fresh troops arriving each day in uncountable number, the writing was on the wall.

“When were you going to tell me, Nordred?” she asked much later, as she pulled on a dark coloured gown. All of the bright silks and satins in her wardrobe seemed obscene in the face of the death and despair she’d seen.

“There wasn’t—”

“When, Nordred.”

“The role of an advisor can be a difficult one,” he replied with a mirthless smile. “We are supposed to give advice so a sovereign never missteps. Most of the time we are frustrated by the fact that the person we serve listens to what we have to say and then…” He blinked. “We made mistakes, so very many mistakes at every step in this, and I have only the fact we have never faced an invasion to explain that.”

Nordred stared into Eleanor’s eyes.

“I wanted, needed to believe that these outlanders were just here for trade. That need coloured my vision, my processing of the evidence, and so the Empire was allowed to gain a foothold in our country. Perhaps there had been an intention to honour the agreements at the start, but when they started to bring back to Farrador that good Strelan iron ore…? Why trade when you could take? Initially it seemed like a good thing. More and more ships were arriving, more gold flowing into the coffers.”

Nordred cocked his head to the side and I watched the movement with hungry eyes, wanting to capture each one of his mannerisms and store them away in my memory.

“Strelae has always remained in the hands of the queen. Others have tried to invade, but the mountains, our people have always been able to drive them back.”

“But for me,” Eleanor said.

“Callum saw it differently of course. He mobilised the army, organised the defence of Strelae.” Nordred smiled but it was a mirthless thing. “He was happy for a time. He had a purpose. He thought this could be his moment. Unencumbered by the crown, by his queen, he could make his mark on the history books.”

He shook his head slowly.

“We all underestimated the invaders, to our peril, because now I’ve seen the full extent of our enemies’ forces, I think even the greatest of queens would’ve quailed in the face of the Farradorian Empire,” Nordred replied.

“And I am not the greatest of queens.”

Her elegant hands smoothed over the fabric of her dress, the folds hanging loose. She turned her back to him and he rose, lacing her dress up until the bodice hugged her frame. Then he plaited her hair, curled it at the base of her neck and fixed it with a ribbon, before reaching for her cloak.

“That was when she went across the border,” I said with a frown. “It was like the two of them always knew this was going to happen. He let her have her fun for as long as he could, because he loved her—”

“And although she was his mate, she was destined to become someone else’s wife,” Dane said with a nod.

“Twins are often seen to be a sign of bad luck in Strelae,” Axe said.

“Probably because it’s one too many mouths to feed,” Gael said grimly. “So she went across the border. Is that the message here? Because if we did that, we’d bring the bastard Reavers with us. Callum’s not given up for over three hundred years. He’s sure as hell not giving up now.”

“And neither are we,” I said, leaning back against Axe’s chest, feeling the heaviness of sleep reaching up to claim me. “Callum doesn’t have the might of the Empire behind him.”

But as darkness claimed me, I heard the Morrigan’s laughter reverberating through my head. Like any mother, she was about to correct my assumptions, showing me the error of my ways.

59

“Wake up, darling.”

Her hand was on my face, stroking my hair back from my forehead, not making me want to do as she asked at all. Her strokes were long and slow, lulling me back to sleep, not bringing me to wakefulness.

“It’s time to rise.”

I groaned, then stretched, my whole body tensing as I yawned.

“You’ve done so well, my love, but there’s more to be done.”

“Mother…” My voice was a small, childish whine.

“I know it’s hard, and it’s only going to get harder.” My brow creased at the small note of disquiet her words brought. “I know what’s coming.”

---