Page 106 of The Infernal Battalion

“I assume you’d prefer to skip the preliminaries,” Georg said. “You’ve heard the word from Vordan, and so have I.”

“Yes.”

“You never gave me an answer to my proposal.”

“Is it still on the table?”

Georg grinned slyly. “Master Goodman would chastise me. When your opponent’s position becomes more desperate, he would say, take the chance to put the screws to them. Should I demand some territory, perhaps? Trading concessions? I’m sure he could think of something.”

“Your Majesty—” Raesinia tried to keep her voice calm, but something must have shown on her face, because Georg barked a laugh and held up a hand.

“My apologies,” he said. “Yes. The offer stands. I take it you’ve... considered?”

“I have.” Raesinia stood up a little straighter. “I will marry Matthew, if you are willing to help.”

“Excellent.” Georg’s smile widened. “I’m sure you will be very happy together.”

“I’m sure,” Raesinia said. “Let’s talk about the terms of your assistance.”

The king leaned back in his chair. “It will take some time to assemble troops—”

“Your Majesty, we don’t have time. This news is days old at best.”

“I’m well aware,” the king said. “As I was about to say, a land force will take some assembly, but it should be practical to dispatch a navy squadron and transports immediately. They will sail to Enzport and up the Pale, rendezvous with General d’Ivoire’s army, and make arrangements to evacuate it by sea. I assume that would resolve the immediate difficulty?”

“It would.” Something unclenched in Raesinia’s chest. We’re not there yet, she told herself. “Thank you.”

“For what it’s worth,” Georg said, “I appreciate your position. And I truly think this is the best possible outcome. Vhalnich is dangerous, and he needs to be crushed. Now stability is assured.”

“Let’s save the victory celebrations for later,” Raesinia said. “I would appreciate it if you would send those ships at once.”

“Of course. I’ll need you to write out orders for your garrison at Ecco Island to allow our ships past. It wouldn’t do to begin our partnership by shooting at one another, would it?”

Raesinia fought down her gorge as the scribes came back in. One of them wrote at her dictation, then presented her with the finished product to sign and seal. Her hand was shaking, blurring the shape pressed into the wax.

Then she was being escorted out of the king’s presence by the same officious footman. She didn’t even look at him, didn’t want to see his superior expression. When he returned her to Jo and Barely, it was obvious they both knew something was wrong, but Raesinia ignored them, too. She stalked back to her suite, went into the drab bedroom, slammed the door, and threw herself on the too-​hard bed.

It’s not so bad. It’ll be a few years at most, anyway. Then I have to disappear. She and Marcus might still manage to be together, if he was willing to disappear with her. She wasn’t certain if she was willing to inflict that on him, though, nor if she really wanted to watch him get old and die while she lived on. But this marriage is... nothing. Just a brief interlude. Prince Matthew isn’t even such a terrible person.

It didn’t feel that way, no matter how she rationalized it. It wasn’t Matthew that was the problem, or even marrying him, in the abstract. It was the knowledge that, in the end, she’d failed.

Duke Orlanko had intended to set her up as a puppet, a convenient body to occupy the throne while he ruled, complete with a terrible secret he could hold over her to maintain control. Everything she’d done since the start of the revolution had been in order to escape that fate, to regain control of her own destiny and break the hold that Orlanko and his backers had on Vordan. People had died—​a great many people—​along the way. Some of them had been her friends. Some of them had died in her arms. Raesinia herself had had her brains blown out, been shot, stabbed, drowned, smashed, and otherwise abused; if her particular situation meant that none of that was fatal, it still wasn’t pleasant.

All of that, to get to a place where she could make decisions about her own life. And now I’m back where I started. Not Raesinia, just the queen, a convenient body to wed and breed, a pawn on the game board of nations. And I doubt I’ll even be able to do that satisfactorily.

She imagined telling Marcus what she’d done and why she’d done it. He’d understand, from a logical perspective. Perhaps even agree that it was the right course, to save Vordanai lives, including his. But will he forgive me? She thought not. Marcus could recognize when a coldly rational decision was the correct one, but he could never truly bring himself to accept it. If she married Matthew, whatever the reasons, he would feel betrayed. And I can’t say he’d be wrong, because I feel like a traitor.

Raesinia curled up on the bed, on top of the sheets, and cried in a way she hadn’t for a very long time. Eventually she stopped, not because she felt better, but simply because she felt empty.

I wish Sothe were here. Not for her organizational talent, her spying, or her fighting skill. Just because no one else had been with her from the beginning, and understood.

Eric knocked at the door, calling for her. Then Cora, her voice full of concern. Then Duke Dorsay. Raesinia just pulled the sheets around her and lay still. Go away. I gave him what he wanted. Can’t I have some peace?

Eventually—​the curtains were drawn, and she had no idea what time it was—​the lock clicked, and the door swung open a fraction. Raesinia frowned, blinking against the brighter light from the outer room, and looked up.

“Cora?” she said.

It wasn’t Cora. It was Sebastian Carter, the tall, black-​clad majordomo, with a pair of footmen hovering behind him.