Heart of Defiance (The Royal Spares)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Signy

I f I’d known how big a Darium fort actually is, maybe I wouldn’t have made such a bold suggestion.

I peer over the top of the knoll from where I’m sprawled in the grass, fidgeting with my sleeve. It’s still stiff from the dunk we all took in the river we crossed this morning. I’m glad to have let the current sweep away the worst of the grime of travel, but the water’s left all my clothes a little tight against my skin.

Or maybe that’s just the tension winding through my body as I stare at the stone wall below.

Next to me, Iko swipes his hand across his mouth. “Well, we’re not burning much of that place.”

The two-story building beyond the wall is built of stone too. I worry at my lower lip. “I guess the floors are probably wood?”

On the other side of Iko, Jostein frowns. “We’re going to need more than that to work with. We can’t even get to the floors until we’re inside. ”

With two guards posted by the gate, it’s hard to figure how we’re going to accomplish even the first part of that sequence. And what are we going to do once we’re inside? There must be three or four times as many soldiers stationed in the fort as we faced at the guard post.

As much as I admired Jostein’s skill with a sword, it seems a bit much to expect him to tackle a few dozen armed men by himself, especially when they won’t be fleeing a rampaging fire. Even with Iko in the mix, we’ll be overwhelmed.

I’m not reckless enough to think Landric and I will contribute much to the slaying part of the plan.

Iko adjusts his position, the side of his arm grazing mine. A tingle of heat races over my skin, sending me back to the moment last night when he embraced me.

“Maybe we just harass them,” he says. “Hurl some crap at them and irritate them. We could get alcohol or lantern oil in that town down the road, put together some basic incendiary devices.”

My stomach knots. “That won’t make much of a point. If anything, it’ll make us look weak—prove that we can’t really harm them at any kind of larger fortress.”

But maybe that’s true. Maybe I should call this absurd mission off before we get into real trouble.

Captain Amalia only asked us to destroy the guard post. We pulled that off. She might be willing to encourage more of her soldiers to join our rebellion now, and Landric and I could appeal to our neighbors…

Of course, even with a force of a hundred, I’m not entirely sure how we’d do any damage to the fort. All they have to do is keep the door shut and pelt us with arrows from above.

Was I out of my mind to think we could make a real stand against the Darium forces?

As my doubts gnaw at me, a large horse-drawn cart comes rattling along the road at the base of the hill, which leads east from the nearby town past the fort. I expect it to continue on by, but instead it veers onto the side lane to the fort’s gate.

At my other side, with a careful distance between us, Landric makes a thoughtful sound. “Of course. They’d have a merchant from town bringing supplies regularly. They never bother with any grunt work they can make one of us do for them.”

It appears he’s right. The cart comes to a stop in front of the gate, and the driver waits while one of the guards scans the cargo: lumpy burlap sacks, casks of ale, a couple of baskets of fruit.

The guard steps back with his arms crossed over his chest. His brusque voice carries up the hill. “Commandant Paulo wants more of that pork roast tomorrow. And it’d better be fresher this time.”

The merchant bobs his head with obvious anxiety and murmurs something obsequious. The other guard pushes open the door and ushers in the cart.

Landric leans his chin on his folded hands. “That’s one way to get inside.”

Jostein knits his brow. “We couldn’t hide on that thing without the driver noticing us. He’d need to agree to the scheme.”

“I can’t imagine he likes his employers all that much,” I say.

“He probably likes not being slain by them.” Jostein tips his head to the side. “Let’s head over to town so we can at least find out where he’s coming from.”

“And grab ourselves something to eat,” Iko puts in. “I’m starving.”

My stomach gurgles in agreement. We found a patch of wild raspberry bushes on our trek, but the relief that snack brought has long since faded.

We tramp down the far side of the hill to the spot where we left the horses to graze. As Jostein helps me into the saddle and then swings up behind me, I will down the flush that creeps into my cheeks.

There were only three animals in the stable by the guard post. It makes sense that I’d be the one to double up, since I weigh the least, and he was the only one confident in handling the horse with a passenger in front.

I lean tentatively against his broad chest, doing my best not to think about the warmth of his muscular thighs on either side of mine. His arms wrap loosely around me, almost a hug, as he flicks the reins.

I’m already getting tingles when I’m close to Iko. Panting after both of them seems a bit much.

And then there’s Landric, glancing over at us with a tightening of his mouth as if he’s not entirely happy seeing me in another man’s arms. The All-Giver only knows what’s going on in his head.

I do my best to focus on the terrain around us and staying balanced as we trot across the fields, taking an indirect route toward the town so we aren’t seen from the fort. I’ve only had the chance to ride a few times as a kid, many years ago. I forgot how unnerving being perched on a creature that has a mind of its own could be.

Jostein guides the stallion with total confidence, clicking his tongue so it perks its ears and steps a little faster. I turn my head so I can see his face at the edge of my vision. “You seem like you have a lot of experience with horses. Are you normally with the cavalry?”

Most of his colleagues who joined us once we met up with the captain were on foot .

He shakes his head, his chin grazing my hair. “My parents are horse breeders and trainers. I grew up with them. So my superior officers tend to give any riding-related tasks to me.”

“All the better for him to sweep pretty ladies off their feet,” Iko pipes up.

My cheeks outright flare, but Jostein simply snorts. “Or drag them away from disaster.”

I decide I’m better off keeping my mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

Not far from the first buildings of town, we pass a wagon that’s sagging amid the grass. One of the wheels has cracked through. Dirt stains the canvas covering on either side of a massive tear. I peer inside but find it empty. It looks like the owner must have taken out their cargo and abandoned it as unsalvageable, months if not years ago.

Because of our roundabout route, we circle around to the road just as the merchant’s cart is returning to the town. We tie the horses at a hitching post on the main street and amble along at a cautious distance until we see him guide it around back of a grocer’s shop a few streets beyond the central square.

The four of us wander into the shop as if just there to stock up on provisions. As Jostein and Iko pick out apples and eggs and a couple bottles of milk, voices filter from the back room—the merchant and his wife, I suspect.

“The delivery went smoothly?” she asks.

“No trouble at all. I’ll just need to speak to the butcher tonight. As long as we keep them happy up there at the fort, we’ve nothing to worry about.”

I find myself exchanging a glance with Landric. That attitude doesn’t bode well for convincing him to turn on the soldiers .

Iko’s faint grimace suggests he’s drawn the same conclusion. He and Jostein pay the clerk for our selections, and we duck back out, gnawing on the apples and passing around one of the bottles.

The cool creaminess of the milk takes the edge off my hunger but doesn’t lift my spirits. “Now what?”

Jostein sighs. “Let’s go back to the square and get ourselves some bread from the bakery. It’ll be easier to think once we’ve had a full meal.”

Iko nods. “We should stroll around and visit each of the shops. You never know what else we might hear from the locals.”

It’s a nice thought, but we pass the last two hours of the afternoon gulping down our meager meal and overhearing nothing but basic pleasantries and irrelevant gossip between the townspeople. As evening sets in, Jostein checks his purse and declares that we have enough funds to splurge on a hot dinner at the tavern.

As we step into the loud, hazy space, my stomach sinks. I can’t help thinking this is a gesture of condolence—that we’ll eat and then the responsible soldier will declare that there’s nothing more we can do here, that we need to head back to his squadron.

I’m not even sure what I could say in argument.

So I pick at my leg of roast chicken slowly at our table in the corner, peering at the customers around us as I chew. I almost choke on my current mouthful when three Darium soldiers push into the room.

They’re wearing their standard uniforms, black with white bones, but no helmets, which only makes them slightly less terrifying. The locals at the nearby tables tense at their arrival, a few cringing to the side.

The man at the lead calls for mugs of ale without any indication he’s going to pay for them. The barkeep hustles to pour the drinks.

I can’t help remembering Jostein’s story about the soldiers who murdered his uncle and cousin.

One of the other soldiers waves her arm at the patrons already sitting at a prime table. They clutch their drinks and dash off to a more cramped one that remains open near the wall.

The previous bar chatter has dwindled. As the soldiers drop into their chairs and enjoy their drinks, the conversations only continue in lowered voices.

I force down my mouthful of chicken, my chest constricting. At least it doesn’t seem the soldiers are here to investigate a recent guard post burning.

Landric shifts uneasily in his chair. He speaks under his breath. “Should we go?”

Jostein shakes his head, his voice pitched equally low. “It’ll be noticeable, so soon after they arrived. Signy’s only halfway through her dinner. We wait a little and then go.”

I start plowing through my chicken at a much more enthusiastic pace.

I’m nearly down to the bone when a man gets up from a table a couple over from the soldiers’. His flushed face and unsteady balance suggest he’s had a little more ale than is wise.

Especially in present company. He heads toward the bar, sways on his feet, and jostles the back of one of the soldiers’ chairs.

The man jerks around with a snap. “Watch yourself!”

Then the woman who claimed the table lets out a chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine. “Thaddeus wanted to have more of a lark. Why don’t you play darts with this one?”

I don’t understand what she means until the soldier who ordered the drinks gets to his feet. The drunk mumbles an apology, but the other man ushers him over to a dart board hanging on the side wall. “You disrupted our fun, you can help us have a little more.”

“Thaddeus,” his other colleague says with a trace of dismay, but he shuts his mouth when the larger man glares at him.

The drunk’s friends still sitting at his table watch with paling faces, but no one else dares even try to intervene. The soldier positions the drunk right in front of the dart board. “Let’s see how well I can outline that fat head of yours.”

As he steps back with a handful of darts, my stomach churns. Jostein’s shoulders stiffen, but Iko sets a hand on his forearm to warn him to stay put.

We could take down these three soldiers, but what would that mean for the town? Would we leave another smoking wreckage in the wake of our attempted rebellion?

We weren’t prepared for this.

The soldier whips his first dart toward the drunk. It thuds into the wall less than an inch above his victim’s rumpled hair. His friend gives a whoop of approval. The other soldier stares at his drink without a word.

So it continues, one dart after another, flying so close to the drunk’s head he must feel the air shudder with their passing. The fourth dart hits a little too close, nicking the shell of his ear and falling to the floor.

The drunk gives a muffled yelp. Blood beads on his ear, but he holds himself even more still with a brief shudder.

The whole tavern has gone silent except for the soldiers. We watch as the last two darts smack the wood on either side of the man’s neck.

“An enjoyable jape,” the soldier says casually, and saunters over to pull out the darts. My hands clench at the thought that he might pick up the game all over again, but instead he shoves the drunk toward his table. “Keep your ass in your seat, and we shouldn’t have any problems.”

My gaze slides to the drunk’s friends. Their sallow faces tighten with restrained anger as they track the soldier’s assured stride back to his own chair.

An idea starts to come together in my head. There are a lot of things broken here… and we might not be the only people interested in fixing them.

It was never supposed to be only about us, after all.

I glance around at my companions, speaking at barely a whisper. “I think I see an opportunity here.”

A small smile crosses Iko’s face.

Jostein hesitates, but maybe his gift tells him I know what I’m talking about. “Give it your best shot.”

At least one of us has faith in me. I’m not convinced yet that my conviction isn’t just willful stubbornness.

The soldiers don’t head out until after the next peal of the town bell. I wait another few minutes to be sure they aren’t going to barge back in, but then I see the drunk and his friends getting up from their table.

I beckon my companions to follow me and hurry after them.

We catch up in the square just outside the tavern. Even the drunken man is walking fairly steadily, the encounter with the darts having sobered him up.

I come up beside them and clear my throat. “That was a sick game they played in there.”

The four men slow, the main target of the soldier’s game touching his blood-dappled ear.

“It is what it is,” one of them says warily.

“But does it really have to be? There’s more of us than there are of them.”

Another of the bunch considers me with narrowed eyes. “What are you saying? ”

I hold up my hands in a gesture of innocence. “Just speculating. It’s been hard not to, lately… I don’t know if you heard, but a group of Veldunian rebels burned down a Darium guard post just south of here last night. They took out all the soldiers who were in it.”

I’m prepared to drop the subject there, but interest immediately lights in all four pairs of eyes, as much as the skeptic tries to keep a poker face.

“Serves them right,” the third man mutters, and the skeptical one elbows him.

The drunk exhales roughly. “It does. I wouldn’t mind seeing something like that here.” Then his gaze darts around as if he’s afraid the soldiers might be listening in.

“We’re not doing anything with the fort right there,” the skeptic grumbles.

I offer them a crooked smile. “Maybe you can, though. Word’s being passed around between people who’d want to see some change. Anyone who’d like for the Darium army to get what they deserve should meet in the field west of town tomorrow at the tenth bell.”

If we make it sound like someone else is organizing the scheme, the locals won’t point us out as the instigators if they decide to tattle.

The men scan both me and the three men behind me. “You’re all going?”

Iko joins in with a casual shrug, playing along with my story. “Might as well find out what could happen, right? No commitment.”

The group exchanges glances. I step back as if I’m not all that invested. “I just thought you might want a part in that. Don’t pass on the word to anyone else unless you’re sure they’re more loyal to Velduny than the invaders.”

The men walk on, murmuring amongst themselves, and we draw back into the shadows next to the tavern. The corners of Jostein’s mouth have quirked upward. “What are you up to now, rebel maiden?”

I ignore the giddy quiver the nickname sends over my skin and rub my hands together. “I’ve got a wagon to fix, and then we’ll need to do some more grocery shopping.”