The queen waited. Vaguely, she was aware that others were there now—Luca, Ula, Urtzi. They all waited.
Finally, with a shuddering inhale, Ferdinand spoke. His whisper fractured.
“Geneva killed Alasne, and then proceeded to plead her case about why I should be on her side. Koldo rode straight in to break it up—she hooked me to her horse to keep me safe and then confronted Geneva herself. Koldo was winning the fight until I came storming back to help. I—drew her focus, I ruined it.…”
As Ferdinand’s voice trailed off, Amarande pressed harder upon the meat of his upper back. He was so big, so much like their father already, and yet in that moment he was still a child. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Where did Geneva go?” Luca’s voice was flat and angry.
Angry at what she’d done. Angry she’d gotten away. Angry she was still a threat.
Ferdinand answered without looking away from Koldo’s too-still face. “To the north…”
As they looked up and away, his words died out. All of them stilled under the glistening blue sky of Torrence as a wave of men and women on horseback thundered away, straight for the mountains and the Divide beyond.
The Warlord was in retreat.
Geneva and perhaps a third of her soldiers had regained their horses—or stolen ones from the camp corral—and were fleeing fast. The great Ardenian army had quickly and decisively smothered the battle in a three-pronged approach, nullifying the Warlord’s attack in a hail of arrows, sword work, and pure, well-trained numbers.
Like snuffing out a candle.
But now, rather than make chase, the Ardenian regiment was on the ground, searching for survivors, helping the wounded, separating the Torrentian innocents from the injured soldiers the Warlord had left behind.
As Amarande surveyed the Torrentian camp from Koldo’s side, it almost appeared as if they were victims of a shipwreck come to shore from a disappeared sea. Debris and bodies everywhere, tendrils of smoke from cooling fires and those still burning.
They’d won the battle, but they would not be safe until they could neutralize Geneva for good. A fact Luca had already surmised. “Ula, Urtzi. Follow Geneva.”
The former pirates stepped forward, and it was then that Amarande realized they were burdened by the weight of something—someone.
Tala.
The resistance leader—née Jericho Talmage—stood between them, tied at the wrists and about the knees, salt-and-pepper head hanging. “We’ve captured one Warlord for you and will happily bring you another.” Urtzi dumped the man to the sand, and immediately tore off in the direction of the corral.
Ula, though, hesitated. But only for clarification from the Otsakumea. “Do you want her dead or alive?”
Amarande and Ferdinand stilled over Koldo’s body.
Luca knew their feelings on the matter were much more complicated than what needed to be done. He also knew Ula had no qualms about taking Geneva for herself, given that the woman had admitted to murdering her mother, Lygia, when she’d stood between her and a clean escape from the Itspi with newborn Ferdinand.
Because he was who he was, Luca replied, “I’ll take her any way you can bring her.”
“You shall have her,” Ula promised.“Hitz ematen dizut.”
CHAPTER 25
THEcleanup after the battle was a massive undertaking. Luca and Amarande directed what they could from the Hand. Not resurrecting the dais, nor climbing it like Alasne had, but using it as a focal point and backdrop to divide up and delegate what needed to be done.
A medical ward—those with healing skills were brought together to treat the wounded, ease pain, and, when possible, reunite those who had been separated in the fray. Those left behind by the Warlord were treated and held away from the camp for evaluation and questioning.
The funeral squad—Ardenian soldiers and members of the resistance fighters strong enough to collect, identify, and reunite the dead with family members ahead of a mass burial that would take place as soon as possible. All the Warlord’s dead would go into the firepit before it burned out.
The rebuilding coalition—everyone else, working to reinstate the camp, clear debris, and make way for the conclave parties that would arrive before nightfall from the remaining kingdoms.
It was hot work, as exhausting physically as emotionally. And by the time the other kingdoms began arriving and setting up camp after learning about the morning ambush, Luca and Amarande both declined the formal feast to start the conclave. Those hands could be kissed in the morning.
Tonight was about surviving the past day. And looking forward.
And though Luca yearned for a rest, he kissed Amarande softly on the cheek and told her he would meet her for supper soon. “I must visit Tala.”
