Page 143 of The Infernal Battalion

“You didn’t have to do it at all. You could have married me, gone back to Vordan, and let me drink myself to death. You didn’t have to... care.”

“Well.” Raesinia’s smile broadened. “I’m sure, as ambassador, you’ll find some way to make it up to me. You can’t be worse than Ihannes. He has a smile like a carnival mask.”

“It does have a mechanical look to it, doesn’t it? Like there was some kind of clockwork inside his head keeping it wound up.” Matthew let out a breath. “For what it’s worth, then. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Prince Matthew.” Raesinia bowed slightly. “I look forward to seeing you at court.”

“Of course you do. I make a stunning addition to any court.” He struck a pose, and Raesinia laughed out loud.

After a carriage ride through the city, shrouded as usual in mist and rain, they were back at the docks. The Prudence, the same courier that had brought Raesinia to Borel, was assigned to bring her home. Eric, Cora, and the other servants followed in her retinue, along with a small packet for the Borelgai embassy in Vordan City. With so few passengers and no cargo, the captain assured her that they would make excellent time.

That turned out to be the case, thanks to a southerly wind that heralded the onset of winter. Prudence sped through choppy seas, rounding the Jaw and down the western coast of Vordan. They were headed, not directly back to Vordan City, but for Enzport at the mouth of the Pale. If nothing had gone terribly wrong, that was where Duke Dorsay’s squadron would be, and the prospect of an early reunion with Marcus was impossible to resist. It’s not far out of the way, in any event, Raesinia told herself. And we need to get the latest news on the war.

Cora kept herself occupied reading—​she’d gotten a small crate full of new texts in Borel, which at the rate she was going looked like they’d last until roughly the end of the week—​while Eric seemed to enjoy the break from the pressure. But the waiting wore on Raesinia. There was only so long she could spend on deck, watching the foam-​flecked waves rise and fall, or down in the chart room staring at the maps. She tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. There ought to be something I can do to be useful. But the crew certainly didn’t need her help, and without more information there wasn’t much planning that could be done.

It was with some relief, therefore, that she watched Ecco Island slide into sight. It was a mountainous hump, rising out of the ocean like the domed back of a turtle, with only scattered greenery on its rocky slopes. A few people lived there, she knew, mostly raising sheep, but the only permanent settlement was on the landward side, at the naval base. As they hugged the north coast of the island, she could see the bumpy shapes of brick embrasures at the tops of the cliffs, where the shore guns that had closed this route to enemy vessels were emplaced. Those guns were gone now, dragged away and spiked by the Borelgai when they’d invaded the island during the war and not yet replaced by a revolutionary government that needed every cannon it could manufacture for the army.

Past the island, the southern peninsula swung up like a lower jaw, creating a bay the shape of a long, narrowing funnel. It made for a magnificent harbor, the best in Vordan: shielded from ocean storms by the bulk of the island, deep enough for the largest ships, and big enough to float the navies of the world. Before the War of the Princes, the largest squadron of the Vordanai navy had been based here, as well as their primary shipyard. The Borelgai had smashed the former and burned the latter, and kept the place under very effective siege, though neither city nor island had actually fallen. After Vansfeldt and the peace that followed, Vordan’s navy had been officially disbanded. Enzport was still a center of commercial shipping, but the naval shipyard had never been rebuilt.

For the people who’d lived through that time, looking out their windows must have made for an awful reminder. Once again, Borelgai men-of-war lay at anchor in the Enzport harbor, red flags snapping from their sterncastles in the brisk breeze. They were huge ships, towering over the slender Prudence, their high, slab-​sided hulls broken by three horizontal lines of gunports. Men bustled about in their rigging, climbing the ropes and spars.

Behind those behemoths was the rest of the fleet, a flock of wider, lower transports with lean frigates at the edges like sheepdogs. The civilian ships of the harbor gave the whole group a wide berth. Enzport was mostly on the north bank of the Pale, and the docks there were crowded with merchantmen and fishing vessels. If she hadn’t just come from Viadre, Raesinia might have been impressed at the sight.

Colored flags ran up the mast of the closest warship in response to a similar string flying from the Prudence. Sothe, Raesinia reflected, would have been able to decode them.

“Your Highness.” A young crewman, obviously overawed by the rank of his guest, edged up to where she stood against the rail. “With your permission, we’ll tie up to the Dominant, and you can go aboard. Duke Dorsay and General d’Ivoire are waiting for you.”

Marcus. She was so close now. She stared up at the mountainous ship, trying to pick him out along the rail. “Of course. Proceed.”

He saluted and ran off. Prudence tacked expertly to come alongside the larger vessel, then ropes were flying down from Dominant’s deck, and the courier’s crew worked hurriedly to bring the two together. A few minutes later, a long ladder unrolled from the man-of-war. Raesinia waved off any offers of help and grabbed the rungs, pulling herself up the side of the larger ship.

The men at the top of the ladder were clearly not prepared for this, and stepped back in some confusion at the sight of the queen herself awkwardly straddling the rail before she managed to get herself over. They stood stiffly at attention as she brushed herself off, immaculate in their red-​and-​white navy uniforms. After a polite interval, a tall man in a more elaborate uniform stepped over and bowed, doffing his bicorn.

“Your Highness,” he said. “My name is Captain Charles Brixton. Welcome to the Dominant, flagship of the First Squadron.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“We have your cabin prepared, if you’d like.”

“I was told Duke Dorsay and General d’Ivoire are aboard,” Raesinia said, her heart thumping a little faster. “I’d like to see them.”

“Of course. I believe they’re in the chart room.” He snapped his fingers at a waiting sailor.

“My staff and bags will be coming over as well,” Raesinia said, as she followed the man. “Make sure they get settled.”

Brixton bowed again. Raesinia followed the sailor across the crowded deck, dodging barrels, coils of rope, and assorted tools. Carronades, small, short-​barreled cannon, were mounted at intervals along the rail, intended to fire grapeshot onto an enemy deck during a close encounter. A tight spiral stair led belowdecks, into a narrow corridor toward the ship’s stern.

The chart room was larger than any space aboard the Prudence, with a big table and dressers full of maps, notes, and cartographers’ tools. At the moment, the Dominant’s own paper charts had been pushed aside, replaced with the unrolled leather maps that the army used in the field. Standing around the table were Duke Dorsay, General Fitz Warus, and the young woman captain Raesinia recognized as Winter’s second in command.

And Marcus. He looked much as he had when Raesinia had last seen him, beard well trimmed, uniform neat and clean. She realized she’d expected to be charging to the rescue again, as in Murnsk, and to find him battle-​worn and exhausted. He must have been here at least a week, if Dorsay kept to the timetable, she told herself. Don’t be silly. He looked up at her, and his eyes widened, but just for a moment. Then he was staring at the map again, and something had gone tight in his face.

“Your Highness,” Dorsay said, stepping around the table with a warm smile. “Welcome. Your journey was clearly swift. I hope it was uneventful as well?”

“Entirely,” Raesinia said. “And I’m glad to see everything has gone according to plan on your side.”

“Not entirely according to plan, but well enough,” Dorsay said. “We had to send the transports a considerable distance up the Pale, which put us a bit behind schedule. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“And the army?” Raesinia said, looking directly at Marcus. “What’s their condition?”