He sprinted the three steps toward me, and I leaned down to wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing. “Be safe, daughter of mine.”
“I will,” I said with a nod against him.
Then he whispered in my ear. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I…” I stared at him. What was I supposed to say? To do? We barely knew each other, but he was my father and he could die. Should I say I loved him, though just in case?
“It’s okay.” John smiled at me and then pulled back. He smacked Winston on the flank. “I’m even rather fond of you, Lizard Boy. Don’t do anything stupid, though, and make me regret admitting that.”
I smiled at my father before turning back to my army, now standing at attention and watching the three of us. Right. Time to quit having a family reunion and get back to what we’d been doing.
I pulled my sword out of its scabbard and lifted it. “People of Nerissette, allies, friends.” I swallowed. “To war!”
“To war!” The army bellowed back at me loud enough that I could hear the palace’s few remaining windows shake. The dragons roared again in agreement, and I felt Winston’s muscles tense a moment before he launched himself into the air.
Chapter Fifteen
Four hours later I saw a flag waving in the distance with a broken crown on it. “Win.”
He grunted, and Ardere and Kitsuna’s mother fell in behind him, flying in a V formation as we got closer.
Coming down the road toward us was a small squad of soldiers. Fifteen warriors at most. Two young men, each holding a flag—one holding the Broken Crown of Bathune and the other carrying a plain, white flag—were in the front. Between them was an older man with long, white hair wearing a silver robe. A wizard. Suddenly their lack of soldiers was a lot less reassuring. Wizards could do as much damage as a hundred men if they had surprise on their side.
“Your Majesty,” a loud voice cracked through the air, and I peered over Winston’s shoulder at the wizard who was using his hands like some sort of magical megaphone. “I come to you today to discuss a surrender.”
“Surrender?” I looked over my shoulder at Kitsuna. “We haven’t even crossed into Bathune yet, and they want to surrender?”
“It’s a trap,” she said quietly.
“What if it’s not?” Mercedes asked. “What if your aunt has suddenly realized that you were serious about marching into her country and taking her throne? She could be surrendering just to keep you from killing her.”
“It’s a trap,” Kitsuna insisted. “We should take them prisoner and keep going.”
“They’re flying a flag of truce.” Mercedes pointed to the white flag. “We can’t attack them.”
“Yes, we can,” Kitsuna said. “They destroyed Dramera and Sorcastia, and they killed your entire Order when they set the Forest of Ananth on fire.”
“And if we can stop this before anyone else dies?” Mercedes fixed her eyes on mine. “The possibility of that is enough to make me swallow down all my hate for your aunt and tell you to meet with the wizard she sent.”
“Okay.” I nodded and then prodded Winston with my left foot. “Take us down.”
“Wait,” Kitsuna said.
“What?” I looked at her. “Mercedes is right. I’m all for revenge, but I won’t ask people to die when I can convince my aunt to surrender her throne to me without a fight.”
“I know.” Kitsuna nodded. “I know. You’ve got to talk to him even if it is stupid. I just think you might want to change your shirt before you go.”
“What?” I looked down at my mud-smeared tunic.
“Send John and a contingent of Woodsmen to meet him,” she said. “Let him feel this wizard out and find out what he wants while you wash your face and change into clean clothes. Then you can meet with him and accept his surrender.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded at me. “That’s why I made you pack a second set of clothes. You can’t accept your aunt’s surrender with mud on your shirt. Not if you want people to take you seriously as a queen. Besides, do you want all the royal portraits of this moment—for all time—to center around a young queen wearing a filthy hunting shirt with smears of mud on her cheeks and her hair standing up in all directions like she’s been sleeping in the woods for the past week?”
“Fine.” I nudged Winston with my heel again. “Take us down so I can wash my face and put on a clean shirt. It’s not like I’ve got a war to fight or anything.”
The dragon beneath me snorted as he dipped lower, moving to the back of my army’s line so he had room to land without squishing anyone beneath his claws.
“Your Majesty?” John asked from his place next to one of the supply wagons at the very back of the line.
“There’s a wizard up ahead. He’s got soldiers with him, and they’re flying the flag of Bathune.”
“How many soldiers?” John asked as he slid his bow off his back.
“Not many,” Kitsuna said. “He’s also flying a white flag.”
“It’s Valkorn of Itasca,” Rhys called out. I turned to watch as he jogged toward us. “He wants to arrange Bavasama’s surrender.”
“What?” John asked.
“They’ve overthrown her,” Rhys said. “The wizards. They’ve overthrown Bavasama and taken the throne. Now they’re willing to hand her over to Allie.”
“And in return?” I asked.
“In return we don’t take the army over the border. They want Bathune, and in return they’ll give you Bavasama and a chance at peace.”
“And do you believe him?” Kitsuna asked as she slid off her mother’s back.
“No,” Rhys admitted as I slipped off Winston and onto the ground. “But if they’re willing to hand over your aunt? I think we have to hear them out.”
“I agree.” I said.
“So do I,” Mercedes added.
“So how do you want to handle this?” John asked me.
I turned to look at Winston. “I want you to shift back into your human form while I change my shirt and wipe the mud off my face. John, you scare up a group of nobles to go along for the peace talks. Sort of a shock and awe thing.”
“I’ll get you a battalion of soldiers to act as bodyguards, too,” Rhys said.
“And then?” Mercedes asked.
“Then, if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to end this. Or at least delay another war until we’ve had time to rebuild a bit. Now if you’ll excuse me”—I rolled my eyes—“I’m told I need a clean shirt.”
…
“So what do we know about this guy?” I asked John as we picked our way through the deep forest fifteen minutes later. We were surrounded by a dozen soldiers, the rest of the nobles trailing behind us.
“Valkorn of Itasca?” Rhys didn’t turn from his place at the front of the soldiers. “Not much.”
“He was Grand Vizier under Bavasama’s mother,” John added.
I looked over at him, confused.
“He was her version of the Fate Maker,” he explained. “He performed the rites necessary for what was once the combined lands of Nerissette and Bathune to honor the Pleiades, and he administered the will of Fate.”
“So what happened?” Kitsuna asked from my other side, her hand on her sword as she glanced around the forest, her shoulders tense.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She stopped and turned to stare at John. “You said he was the former Grand Vizier. He was in charge during the rule of Queen Allie’s grandmother, Bavamorn. That means he’s not still Grand Vizier, is he?”
“Bavasama’s Prince Consort is now Grand Vizier of Bathune,” Tevian, the leader of the dragons, said from behind us. “Damarock of Sevai. He studied under the same wizard as the Fate Maker. They trained together, in fact.”