Rebel's Honor(11)

Acknowledging he'd been out-maneuvered, Axel laughed, jumping back.  "That won't be necessary. Just get the job done so we can get out of  this rat hole."

Mother Saskia bobbed a curtsy. "That, my lord, is why I tolerate your  arrogance. You take your defeats relatively well." She swept past him  and Stefan, headed toward Lynx and Kestrel.





Chapter 8





The sun grilled Lynx's eyes. She held her hand up to her face, squinting  at a pavilion on the other side of the parade ground. The massive  canvas and wood structure was grand. She sighed at this irrefutable  evidence that she'd left home far behind. No one in Norin would tolerate  an over-engineered monstrosity like that. Although similar in size to  their council tent, this thing would take an entire battalion to move.

Not that they were short of men.

Her eyes darted across the parade ground to where hundreds of imperial  guardsmen drilled. Lynx made no secret of staring at them, but not one  soldier broke ranks by glancing back.

It was unnerving.

But then, these guardsmen weren't here to welcome her. As they had  proved just days ago, their purpose was far more sinister. She shivered,  dreading the ongoing threat they presented to her people. While this  regiment was based at Tanamre, Norin would never be safe. And so, before  they'd arrived here, she'd ordered three raiders to reconnoiter the  area. If the Chenayans planned any more attacks, her father would be  prepared. Heron was to rendezvous with them after leaving her and  Kestrel here.

"Where are the people who are supposed to welcome us?" Kestrel's voice  pulled Lynx away from her fears. "Father said a general and a priestess  would be waiting."

Lynx gestured to the pavilion. "I guess they're there. Watching us." She  rubbed her arms for comfort, hating being at such a disadvantage in the  heart of the enemy camp.

"But I'm going to be Prince Tao's wife." Kestrel clutched her dress. "How can they treat me like this?"

"It's Chenaya. Get used to it."                       
       
           



       

Heron hopped from the driver's seat of their cart. He drew close to Lynx  and slipped something around her wrist: a battered gold windup  wristwatch with a scratched glass lens. It had been in his family for  generations-a rare artifact that had survived the Burning.

Lynx's eyes pricked with tears. "I can't take this, Heron. It's too precious."

He stroked her cheek with a finger. "No. You are. But I'm losing you  now, so I want you to have it. Think of me when you check the time."

"I will. Always." She hugged Heron, cursing the eyes she guessed were watching them.

Heron surprised her by tilting her face up and brushing her lips with  his. His mouth was softer than she had ever imagined, warm and tender on  hers. She had known for some time that his feelings for her had  deepened beyond friendship. Until Mott's letter had arrived, she would  have welcomed his advances. Her stomach clenched with sorrow at all  their lost possibilities.

"Lynx. Stop it," Kestrel hissed. "Someone's coming."

Face flushing, Lynx pulled away from him.

A woman sailed across the parade ground toward them, her white robes  billowing behind her. "Princess Lynx," she screeched. "You are betrothed  to the Crown Prince of Chenaya!"

King Thorn had insisted that all Norin learn to speak Chenayan. He  called it knowing your enemy. At that moment, Lynx wished she'd never  learned the horrible, guttural language.

The woman gestured around the parade ground. "Do you want every guardsman here to know you're a hussy?"

Heron swore and darted forward, no doubt to defend her honor.

Lynx held up her hand to stop him and then said to the Chenayan, "By all the Winds, what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don't kiss other men." The woman sucked in a sharp breath.  "Dragon's curses. As if our crown prince doesn't have enough to contend  with in this marriage."

"Saying goodbye to my friend does not classify me as anything other than caring."

The rumble of an approaching steam carriage drowned out Lynx's words.

A worried frown flitted across the woman's face as the metal contraption  chugged onto the road leading to a coal stop close-by. She grabbed  Lynx's arm, digging her nails into her flesh.

"Come with me. And you," she shouted at Heron, "get going before the other carriage stops."

"Why?" Heron demanded, gesturing to the expansive space between the cart  and the coal stop where the carriage could park. "I still have to water  and feed my horses."

"I understand there is a river outside Tanamre. You can tend your horses  there. Now go." The woman dug her nails deeper into Lynx's arm.

Lynx tugged away from her and skittered back. Unable to hide her shock  and anger, she demanded, "Is this how you Chenayans welcome visitors to  your empire?"

"It's your empire, too, Princess," a male voice said, "or haven't you noticed we conquered Norin a few centuries ago?"

Lynx spun to see the speaker.

He was a typical Chenayan: olive skin, dark hair, brown eyes, arrogance.  Young. That surprised her. Even though he could only have been a few  years older than her, he carried the general's insignia of five red  dragons with swagger.

Then she saw the blood-red ruby next to his eye, and it all made sense.

This was General Axel Avanov: strategic mastermind, third in line to the  throne, Lukan's cousin, and a man she despised on principle.

"How dare you mock the conquest of my country?"

If Axel Avanov was here, then he was very likely the man who had given  the order to attack the Norin camp. The machetes on her back screamed  for use, to slash him open the way Hare had been killed.

That was a risk not even she could take.

Kestrel threw her shoulders back, standing tall. "And . . . and is this  the welcome we're going to get? We are marrying the heirs to the throne,  you know."

It struck Lynx that Kestrel had no idea who Axel Avanov was. Why should  she? Her sister took no interest in military or political matters. Lynx  couldn't help but wonder if Kestrel still thought Chenaya and Chenayans  so marvelous.

"Mother Saskia," Axel Avanov said, patently ignoring them both. "We have  a steam carriage arriving." He pointed to Lynx and Kestrel. "Get them  out of here."

So she was the priestess. Of course, she was. Why hadn't Lynx connected  the white clothes with her rank? Maybe because she'd never seen a  Chenayan priestess before.

The priestess bobbed a curtsy. "Of course, my lord." She grabbed Lynx's and Kestrel's arms and tried to drag them away.                       
       
           



       

"Get your hands off them!" Heron yelled, as Lynx dug in her heels,  refusing to budge. "These are Norin princesses you're manhandling."

Heron fell under Avanov's imperious gaze.

"Raider. Get out. Now." Avanov strode over to Heron's cart and slapped the closest horse hard on the rump.

It bucked, and Heron had to fight to bring it under control.

Face infused with rage, Heron opened his mouth and then snapped it closed with an audible click.

Lynx was grateful. King Thorn had made it clear that Heron wasn't to  antagonize the Chenayans. Winds knew, his kiss was provocative enough.  The Chenayans could easily kill him and confiscate the Norin horses and  cart. His death would be more than Lynx could bear. Norin's meager  coffers couldn't handle the loss of horses and a cart, either.

The only way of smoothing over this situation was to submit to the priestess.

Lynx turned to Heron and said in a soft voice, "Go. May the Winds be  with you." Heart aching at this cruel parting, she turned her back on  her dearest friend and allowed herself to be pulled along. Her clenched  jaw ached as Heron's cart took off across the parade ground. Fighting  tears, she prayed he would understand she had done it to protect him and  not because she wanted to submit to the enemy.

The priestess interrupted her painful musing. Face contorted with a  malicious smile, Mother Saskia pulled out a stumpy dagger from a pocket  in her robes. Quick as lightning, she snatched a braid of Lynx's hair  and feathers and slashed through it. "A future Chenayan empress does not  wear braids crawling with lice."

Even Kestrel gasped as the priestess flung Lynx's hair onto the flagstones and ground her heel into it.

The air escaped Lynx's lungs. Instinctively, she grabbed a machete, ready to protect her surviving braid.

Someone misread her intent. A hand clamped around her wrist, restraining her with an iron grip.

"I warned you," Axel Avanov said.

Lynx looked over her shoulder at his face. It was about as hard as the ruby next to his eye.

"Now take control of the situation."