Enchanting the King (The Beauty's Beast Fantasy Series) (2 page)

“Captain, what is that?” Aliénor asked.

The captain of her personal complement of guards half turned in his saddle and frowned, squinting at the sky. His mouth twisted, and he called for two men to ride up from further back in the line. More guards for Aliénor.

She frowned and looked again at the gray plume in the sky. “What’s amiss, Captain?”

The man let out a grumpy sigh and turned to her with a pasted-on smile. “I am only worried that is the army of Lyond, Your Highness.”

Noémi let out a small puff of surprise. “Lyond? But their army left months ahead of ours.”

“Perhaps they have been delayed on this road as disastrously as we have.” The captain shrugged, turning away as if their conversation wearied him. Aliénor should ask Philippe for a replacement for the impudent man. Her own dear captain of the guard from home had drowned a few months back. Several of her best men had died in that accident, when Philippe had ordered the army to ford a river instead of paying a ferryman’s fees. She might have suspected treachery, except so many of their soldiers had been lost in that disaster, from every faction.

She shook her head, refusing to let the captain brush her off. “Captain, why should the Lyondi army trouble you? We are no longer at war with them. They are here to reclaim their colonies the same as us.” Indeed, Aliénor had passionately argued back home that their Jerdic force should ally with the army of Lyond since their mission was so similar. However, after decades of near constant war and only a few years of uneasy peace with Lyond, the men of her homeland hadn’t listened. Philippe and his brother, the king, had actually laughed at the idea.

The captain let out a long, slow sigh and turned to her with another one of his false smiles. “Princess, here in this wilderness, an army of those Lyondi barbarians will not care about any peace agreement made back home. Especially not if they catch sight of you and your two pretty ladies.” He made a small half-mocking bow in his saddle to her and Noémi.

Aliénor’s cheeks heated with an indignant flush.

Noémi tugged gently on Aliénor’s sleeve, coaxing her attention away from the ill-mannered captain. “Your husband won’t want you bickering with a guard captain in the middle of the road.” She kept her voice low, calm. “He’ll send you back to the wagon if he hears of a fight.”

Or worse
. Aliénor let her breath out through her teeth. “Wise counsel, my friend.”

Noémi hummed in her throat, a faint note of approval.

Aliénor flicked her a teasing smile. “I do
sometimes
listen to you.”

Noémi grinned. She was a large woman, thick-boned and stout, with a pale, pretty face unfortunately marred by deep pockmarks on her cheeks. But she had clear, snapping green eyes full of animation and intelligence. She was an unmarried lady, a widow twice over and not yet forty. Aliénor and Noémi had met only a few months ago at that bit of grand theater when the High Lord Magician of their homeland Jerdun had accepted all their solemn vows to reclaim the colonies and save the deserts to the south from the Tiochene raiders.

Aliénor had come to rely on Noémi as the one note of sanity in the swirling madness that their well-intentioned campaign had become. The wealthy widow was the first woman Aliénor had asked to become one of her “Amazons.” Another flashy bit of theater in an already melodramatic display. Aliénor smiled still, months later, at the memory of the stodgy High Magician’s face when she had shown up with her gaggle of noblewomen all dressed in vibrant red armor, all ready to take their solemn vows and fight.

Unfortunately, only Noémi and a young noblewoman named Violette had come along with her. The other noblewomen who had taken their vows had been forced to bow out of this grand adventure. One became pregnant, one suddenly lost her husband, and another lost her nerve when it came time to take ship. Still, Aliénor was happy to have even a
small
tribe of Amazons on this trip with her.

Both her women wore faded gray riding habits now, more practical than their flashy—and
heavy
—red armor. Yet the promise of that armor, the hope she’d had when she’d first made her impulsive vow, still pulsed in the back of Aliénor’s mind.
Like a rotten tooth as needs pulling
, Aliénor wryly told herself.

They would probably have to sell the armor soon enough to pay for food. That should make Philippe happy. He’d always hated her red armor. After only a few days on the road she’d realized that Philippe had only let her buy armor because he’d planned to make her stay home. He’d underestimated her stubbornness or her bravery—maybe both. He’d wanted Aliénor to help rally the men and organize the expedition, but if Philippe had had his way she never would have been allowed out of Jerdun.
Maybe he was right
. Aliénor’s grand adventure had been nothing like her plan thus far.

“We should be making camp soon, Your Highness.”

Aliénor chuckled and eased back in her saddle to stretch her aching muscles. “Is my weariness that obvious?”

Noémi only smiled in response, a very politic answer.

Aliénor shook her head, laughing again.

The road dipped as they entered a valley with the river flowing between two small hills. Bare white stone jutted up around them oddly, with patchy green bushes and long, oval-shaped trees lining the road.

A foul smell reached her on the air, so strong that she gagged. “What is that?” A stench like dead animals or meat left to decompose in the sun.
Surely one dead animal could not be so strong, so overpowering
.

Noémi froze beside her, and took a deep, testing sniff of the air. Her face blanched. “Your Highness, we should head to the rearguard at once.”

“Why—” Aliénor scanned the road, and the words died on her lips as she saw the first dead man ahead of them. And another. Parts of many men lay scattered along the road, their blood splashed against the stark white of the valley walls. Nearby in the center of the road lay just a man’s leg with the heavy boot still upon it, a dark spot of blood beneath. Some of the bodies were badly burned, and scorch marks darkened many of the stones nearby, a few very high up on the walls.

“Send word to my husband at once.” Aliénor barely managed to get the words out without vomiting. The back of her throat burned.

The column halted and called the word back to those behind. Noémi dismounted and helped Aliénor down from her own horse. Wobbly, her mouth sour with bile, Aliénor clung to her friend’s arms. “I’m all right.” A lie, and Noémi obviously knew it, for she settled a steadying arm around Aliénor’s waist.

Noémi frowned at the gory scene ahead of them before looking away. “They appear to be men of the north like us.”

“Could they be our men?” The more she talked, the easier it was to concentrate on something besides the overwhelming smell of death all around.

“These men could be deserters, or they might be men from one of the colonies. Soldiers your cousin sent out to meet us.”

“How can you tell what race they are just from…from what’s left?”

“Their clothes. Their boots. The local tribes around here favor lighter fabric, longer tunics, lighter armor. Sandals too, usually. These men are all wearing boots like us. They look like soldiers, not poor farmers murdered on the way to market.”

Aliénor hadn’t looked that closely. Hadn’t been able to. Her stomach clenched again. “Does nothing faze you, my iron Amazon?”

“I held my first husband’s castle during a siege in the last war with Lyond. We ate the horses before my husband’s forces could come to relieve us.”

Aliénor’s stomach roiled again, but she swallowed her gorge and took a small breath in through her teeth.

Noémi flinched. “Apologies, my lady.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” She stepped away from Noémi’s supporting arm to prove it. “My father was a warrior, but my little island was always isolated, safe from the turmoil of the wars with Lyond. Papa told me war stories, of course, sang the ballads. But he never spoke of anything like…this.” Aliénor disguised her first unsteady stumble forward as a confident step toward her guard captain. “Captain.”

He looked up, his unguarded glance full of annoyance, which he quickly smoothed away. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Have you assembled a party to look for survivors yet?”

He hesitated, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Ah, no. Your Highness.”

“Why not?”

“Begging your pardon, but there doesn’t seem to be much point.”

The image of the severed leg flashed through her mind’s eye, sending her uncertain stomach swooping again. She stared at the clear, unblemished sky, focusing on that to blank her mind out. Soon enough her gut settled. She regarded the guard captain with her most imperious glare. “It is our pious duty to look for survivors of this battle.”

“This looks like it was a slaughter, my lady. Not a battle.”

Aliénor felt her grip on her temper slipping again, as if her moods were an unbroken horse she had yet to tame. However, she would get nothing from this man if she threw a tantrum. Instead, she offered him her most solicitous smile. “My Amazons will undertake a search, Captain. If your men cannot be spared from their other duties.” She let her gaze flick to the two soldiers who had already dismounted and begun a game of dice on the trail.

The guard captain let out a low, exasperated sigh, then swung back onto his own horse. He pointed to some dozen of the various men-at-arms milling about. “You lot, with me. Her Highness”—he swept her a bow just short of outright mockery—“wishes us to search for survivors until such time as the prince arrives.”
We’re only doing this idiotic hunt until Prince Philippe gets here and puts his uppity wife in her place
, he left unsaid, but his meaning was clear.

She set her teeth and waved the captain on his way. She leaned close to Noémi and whispered, “Perhaps I shall get the good captain assigned to digging the latrine pits when we break for camp tonight.”

Noémi snickered. “You handled him all right, my lady.”

“Hmm. The captain’s correct, though. My power will last only as long as it takes for my husband to ride to the front.” A galling truth that her power was so slight and temporary, borrowed only from her husband, and that begrudgingly. “Will they find any survivors, do you think?”

“Perhaps.” Noémi squeezed her hand. “I will go with you now to look. If you like.”

Aliénor swallowed, flinching at the thought. Yet should she command her men to do that which she would not do herself? What sort of leader would she be if she did that?

The sort like my husband
.

A spiteful thought. Aliénor sighed in frustration with herself. What was it about Philippe and her together that always seemed to bring out the worst in both of them? She gave Noémi a nod and swung herself into her saddle again, groaning only a little bit as her aching limps shrieked in protest.

Noémi summoned two more of the soldiers to ride with them as guards. The young men followed the formidable Noémi’s lead when they might have hemmed and hawed at Aliénor’s authority. Perhaps that was Aliénor’s lack, not in power itself but in her confidence in exercising it. Or perhaps she still looked too young for grown men to trust her wits.

She let Noémi lead the way with one of the soldiers beside her. The other fell in so close to Aliénor’s horse that her little palfrey started and sidled away with nerves. “Careful,” Aliénor snapped to the boy.

He nodded apology but stayed close nonetheless. “Beg pardon, Your Highness, but there might still be raiders about. Stay close to me, eh?” He drew his sword as he said it.

Aliénor shivered at the sight of the naked steel. The army had been marching to battle for months but had not seen any action as yet. One could almost forget they were riding to war. Until something like this happened.

She nodded to her guard and turned her gaze away to follow Noémi’s progress. Her handmaiden had led them farther away down the road from the captain and her men, closer to the cliffs, while still staying in sight of the column. Perhaps Noémi knew if they came within calling distance of the captain he would order them back. Or perhaps she was just trying to keep Aliénor from seeing more bodies.

I am coddled from every side
. Was she anything other than a silly, useless woman if even her friend refused to let her help in this small way?
If I am just a burden to be protected then I might as well turn back for home now and get out of everyone’s way
.

She scanned the horizon and let her horse pick his way where he would, for they were in rocky terrain close to the mountains now. Scrubby brush and gray-trunked trees with tight, prickling foliage dotted the landscape. Her eye caught on one the trees where it grew practically against the foot of the hill. A bright flash of pale blue fluttered in the branches. A bird? She had seen no bright-plumed birds like that this far south.

Her pulse kicked up as she turned her mount toward the tree. Behind her, she heard her guard follow her with a small muttered oath.

The closer she came to that bright blue cloth, the harder her pulse beat until it was a veritable drum in her ears. Aliénor stopped short of the tree and slid off her horse.

When she saw the man tangled in the branches of the tree, her blood jumped all at once inside her like a bright flash of heat. Bile burned the back of her throat, but she forced herself forward one unsteady step at a time.

The man’s chest rose and fell. Alive.
Thank Merciful Fate
. He voiced a low groan, and she hopped back a step in surprise. She wet her dry mouth and wheeled toward the guard riding toward her. “Help! Bring help.”

She rushed forward to the tree and reached to lift the man down. He was braced against the branches, and a sword—stained red and nicked from battle—lay among the roots of the tree. Blood had also splashed the tree all around, as if the plant needed human sacrifice instead of wholesome water to live.

Together, Aliénor and her guard lifted the man down from the tree and laid him out on the ground to check for injuries. “Bring water from my saddle,” she told her man. Flustered, the soldier rushed back to their horses.