Authors: D Jordan Redhawk
"There's rumor that a Dulce heir is stirring up rebellion in the province," Habibah said in a quiet voice. Despite her lack of projection, all heads turned her way.
"That's impossible!" Katerin, who had risen, froze under the collective stare of the troupe. She wilted somewhat; mouth open to explain her outburst but nothing came. Ilia provided a measure of support by standing close, hand on her lady's shoulder. The brunette's gaze flickered over the gathering, finally finding Ros'. Love and understanding seemed to pour between them and Katerin stood taller, gaining strength from the look. "I have it on…very good authority that none of the heirs to the Dulce throne survived. Save one."
Willem said, "Well, of course, Kat. We know. The guards rousted us a few nights after you joined us. Remember?" He smiled warmly. "It's no secret they were looking for a woman."
Flabbergasted, Katerin was speechless once more.
Habibah tilted her head. "But the rumors from Dulce are that a crown
prince
survived."
Katerin's eyes narrowed as she frowned in thought.
That cannot be. My brothers are dead.
She recalled Hector's statement when they'd met up that night.
"Nay, Your Highness. I saw the Invader run them through."
Her musings were interrupted by Ros' voice.
"So, rumors of unrest and he plans a celebration. For what? To thumb his nose at any rebellion? Let them see how unconcerned he is?" She shook her head. "Damn if that man isn't an arrogant bastard."
"Are we going, then?" Sameer asked. Beside him, Florin suckled their baby.
Ros sighed and nodded. "Aye. We're going. We've really been given no choice." Looking at her family, she said, "Anyone who doesn't wish to follow can split off before we enter the city." She looked at Katerin. "Lay low and camp until the celebration is complete."
There was a general murmur as the people discussed their options.
For the first time, Emerita spoke up. "Phizo, love. Get our wagon from the barn. We're going along."
"Em," Ros said, stepping forward. "It'll be all right. You don't need to come."
The old woman smiled, patting Ros' cheek gently. "My family needs me. We're old and decrepit but Phizo's good with the horses and I can cook." She winked at the blonde before going to Katerin and taking the woman's arm in hers. "The fewer worries, the better."
"Em…" the brunette murmured.
"Hush, Kat. The decision's made."
Ros sighed again, a mixture of irritation and pleasure on her face. "Don't bother, Katerin. Once she's made up her mind, that's the end of it." She ignored the chuckle from the old woman, turning to the rest of the troupe. "We go. Those who wish to stay away can camp outside of the city. In the meantime, we've much work to do in preparation. We've a hard road ahead if we're to be there in time. I want us ready to leave a day or so after Gemma and Lucinda arrive."
Obviously dismissed, the group separated, returning to their chores. Ilia stayed behind until Katerin urged her away. Em, after another wink and a squeeze, let go of the brunette's arm and went to her husband, the pair drifting towards the barn.
Katerin stepped into her lover's welcome arms. "We must talk," she said, a lump in her throat.
"Aye."
Katerin stood in the center of their room, arms wrapped about her. She heard Ros closing the door behind her and shivered, a weight building in her chest.
You knew it would happen sooner or later! she scolded herself. Get on with it!
Warm hands on her shoulders pulled her from her self-castigation. The brunette turned, releasing the death grip on her arms to cling to her lover. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she closed them, wishing the emotions away.
"It's all right, Kat," Ros murmured. "You're safe."
Sniffing, Katerin nodded. "I know," came the muffled response. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and pulled back slightly. Looking into concerned eyes, the brunette said, "But I fear you'll not have me when I say what I must."
Ros hugged her. "Nothing you can say will change my opinion of you, Kat," she assured.
"Be that as it may," Katerin said unconvinced, dropping eye contact. With reluctance, she pulled out of the comforting embrace, returning to her original stance. Refusing to look at her lover, the brunette said, "I'm sure you have some suspicions of where I came from; why the Invader's man was killed in your camp." She shuddered, remembering the sounds of skirmish, the voice proclaiming Hector dead.
"My real name is Sabine. I am the daughter of King Frederick of Dulce, the sole surviving heir to the throne and the Invader is looking for
me
." Inhaling, fighting back tears, Katerin whirled about, straightening her shoulders and standing tall. "Ilia is one of my handmaidens. The second man you found dead was Hector, former royal guard and my man at arms."
A part of the brunette wanted to gibber in relief but she wouldn't allow it, resorting to her royal training. Katerin studied her lover, expecting anger, dismay, confusion. To her surprise, Ros' face had a bemused grin. "You
knew
?" she blurted.
Ros nodded slightly, waggling her hand in a see saw motion. "I
suspected
," she said. "I figured you to be a royal; I just didn't know which one." Her demeanor became solemn. "Which makes this
invitation
much more ominous."
Deflated, drained, Katerin sat on the bed with a flounce, not heeding the clothing there. "Yes, I know." She chewed her lower lip. "I know that my brothers didn't survive. Hector told me he'd seen them run through, Mother included."
The blonde sat beside Katerin, gathering her into a hug. I'm sorry," she said. "To lose your family in such violent and sudden ways isn't easy."
Ros' words opened a floodgate. Katerin, unable to hold back any longer, burst into tears, burrowing into her lover's arms. The blonde held her close, rocking gently as a year's worth of pain and worry released.
When the crying died down, the brunette found herself curled up and cradled in Ros' arms. She snuffled a bit, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Thank you," she whispered.
Hugging her, Ros whispered back, "Of course. I love you, Kat. That hasn't changed."
This comment almost set off more tears, but Katerin fought them, pulling out of the embrace. "I love you, too, Ros."
The blonde leaned in with a smile and kissed her lover on the forehead. "I know." After a careful study, deciding that the brunette was emotionally steady, Ros said, "So. With that off your chest, we need to plan a course of action."
"Yes, we do," Katerin agreed, nodding. Her eyes, still red and watery, peered at Ros. "I do not wish to cause you or the troupe danger, but I do not think I can stay here the entire season without you." She ducked her head at the confession, staring at her hands.
Ros rubbed the brunette's back. "I don't wish you to remain here, either." At the tentative peek from Katerin, she smiled. "I'd miss you far too much for my own good. The season would be…empty."
A ghost of a smile crossed Katerin's lips.
"So, the question is how do we go about our profession without putting you in danger."
"Do you think this is a ruse to draw us in, me in?" the brunette asked, turning to her lover.
Ros shook her head slowly. "I don't believe so. It's too elaborate a plot. The Invader is an arrogant man, yes, but he's a conqueror…not the type to play court games." The blonde gave a sardonic smile. "Subtlety is not his suit."
"Aye, there is that," Katerin said.
"I think that the rumor of a Dulce rebellion is what's at the heart of this. He's either had another young woman killed, thinking it was you, or he's decided a show of force is necessary to forestay any revolution." Ros took her lover's hand, rubbing it idly as she thought. "He might be confused as to your gender, thinking a prince
did
escape his blade. He'll be looking for a young man."
The thought of another woman taking her place in death caused Katerin to shudder. "Who is stirring rebellion in Dulce?" she wondered aloud. "None of my family survived. Do you think a lord of father's court is attempting a ruse of his own?"
Ros shrugged. "I cannot say. It could be any number of people." She paused a moment. "You're heir to a throne, Kat. Do you wish to retake it?"
"
No!
" the brunette exclaimed, body stiffening. Realizing she had perhaps spoken too adamantly, Katerin blushed and relaxed. "No. I have no training for it. I have no army. My only worth to the throne would be to my future husband and the children I would have." Her gaze was imploring. "I cannot lose you!" she insisted.
Nodding, Ros squeezed her lover's hand. "You won't, Kat. I had to ask. I had to know."
Reddening, the brunette nodded and ducked her head.
"I'm very ill at ease with the idea of leaving any of the troupe outside the city during the festivities," Ros said. "If it's this 'prince' he's searching for, he may have patrols sweeping the area, more vigilant than ever due to the special nature of this celebration. I believe everyone will be safer staying at Firemount Field in our encampment." She inhaled deeply, looking at Katerin. "You, however, will remain there during our forced audience, along with anyone else who wishes to be absent. Ilia comes to mind."
Katerin nodded. "Yes, that would be for the best."
Rising, Ros helped her lover to her feet, pulling her into an embrace. "So. We're decided then? You come along, stay in camp and then we'll leave, returning to our normal route?"
Hearing the heartbeat in Ros' chest, the brunette murmured. "We're decided." Somehow, by revealing her true nature to the blonde, a sensation of safety came over her.
It's been so long since I've felt safe
, Katerin thought.
The procession stopped despite being within an hour's travel of their final destination. Camp was set as usual - the Invader's tents and environs at the center of a large circle. As befitted their rank and station, the lords of his court spiraled outward, the area liberally sprinkled with fire pits, pickets, servant quarters and Royal Guard. Rimming camp was the regular guard, setting a perimeter and keeping their liege safe.
Looking over his encampment, the Invader smiled, imagining the curses of his subjects as they were forced to endure yet another night in the 'wilds.'
It'll be good for them
, he thought, a sardonic twist on his lips.
Make them appreciate their homes and money, the leadership that keeps them fat and spoiled.
He, on the other hand, was in his element. Many a night he'd spend in similar camps, surrounded by his generals, working on a plan of attack against his enemy. Inhaling deeply, the Invader remembered campaigns past. It'd had been on this very spot the previous year that he'd made his final attack on the Dulce capitol. He relived the memory, seeing pompous lords replaced by confident generals, hearing the scrape of weapons being sharpened, the gentle murmur of men preparing for war.
"Your Royal Highness?"
Turning, the Invader found the captain of his Royal Guard waiting respectfully. "Yes, Semelo?"
Having spent many years in the Invader's employ, two as captain, Semelo appeared to lack the usual nervousness in his ruler's presence. "The lords are requesting an audience with you, Sire," he said, stepping forward. "I believe they're interested in knowing when we'll be leaving for the city."
"Led by Duke Agnar, no doubt." At the captain's nod, the Invader smiled. "Have the herald make an announcement. We'll be here until sunrise. I want the guard looking their best - weapons sharp, armor polished." Looking to the distant city, he said, "Tomorrow's procession will be spectacular."
"Aye, Sire," Semelo nodded, bowing and backing away.
Alone once more, the Invader murmured, "We'll see if I can flush you out, Princess. You and your… benefactor."
With a sneer of distaste, Dominic watched the Invader's arrival from behind a curtain. Having ensconced himself at an inn two nights prior, he wanted to be on the Invader's route into the city. The owner of the establishment was a member of the rebellion and more than willing to give up the price of a room for a good cause.
Eyes lighting on the hated figure, Dominic's face twisted further.
Bastard!
In a display of confidence, the Invader rode at the head of his procession without visible armor. He was clad in breeches and tunic of a light beige, his deep red cloak thrown back from his shoulders. The only jewelry on his person were those of his office - signet ring, a thick chain about his neck and a gold circlet on his head. He waved at the cheering crowd, his smile belying the well-worn sword belt at his waist.
It wasn't lost on Dominic that the city guard were glaring at the masses, they're threat evident.
Aye, applaud the bastard who killed your friends and family or join them in death.
Regardless of the hypocrisy, the former aide felt a grudging respect for the Invader's tactics.
If it weren't for Liam...these fools wouldn't need the prodding. They'd blithely go about their lives in subservience to an usurper.
The Invader past, Dominic let the curtain return to its place, not interested in the courtiers and servants. He had the crowd peppered with contacts - their reports of strength and numbers would be reported before the Invader even arrived at the castle.
"I should go."
Dominic turned to his guest, almost surprised to find him there. "Yes. Get there before him. Don't cause suspicion and report to me this time tomorrow." The aide smiled. "The Invader will be on his guard so be careful in the palace."
Rising, the man straightened the royal livery he wore. "Aye, I will." He paused in thought. "I may not be able to get away tomorrow."
"I understand. If I don't see you in three days, we go underground."
Nothing further was said between them as the spy left the room.
Dominic went to a table, ignoring the tray of food. He poured another glass of wine and sipped thoughtfully.
I'm very glad the royal bratling agreed to remain in our rooms. Just what we need is for him to be found wandering the streets during this festival.
Considering Prince Liam had already done such a thing by being in the city to begin with, the aide frowned.
Best I go check on him.