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Tindal stares at me.
"What?" I ask.
"I can't decide if you're crazy or a genius."
"A little of both?" I give him a wary smile. "I'm not sure how it's going to go, but at least I can try."
He gnaws on his upper lip, his green-skinned face contorting. "Normally I'd say fuck no, but I have a feeling you're going to do this either way, aren't you?" At my nod, he sighs. "Then let me settle these barrels, and we'll get you some fast horses and the most loyal men Agakor has." He hesitates and then looks at me again. "If you don't come back in one piece, just know that he's going to have my head on a pike."
"It'll be fine," I reassure him. "It's my father. He won't harm me."
The look he gives me is downright pitying.
CHAPTER 21
IOLANTHE
The soldiers that Tindal sends with me are excellent men. Two of them are half-orc like my husband, one is fully orkish, and the others are human. All are fierce riders and tireless. I'm the one slowing us down, so I do my best to encourage my mare to go faster than I've ever ridden before, and I hold on for dear life. We stop at a small inn overnight and leave at dawn with fresh horses, charging towards my father's land with breakneck speed.
Even though I'd probably be more comfortable in pants, I'm wearing one of my finest dresses. It's an older red one with vibrant skirts and decorative sleeves, and the nearly bare boning in the bodice stabs the underside of my breast every time the horse moves. I ignore it, though, just like I ignore how sore my legs are and how angry Agakor is going to be when he finds out where I've gone. Getting my father to see reason is all that matters. So I wear my oldest, most favorite gown, I braid my hair like I did when I was younger, and I ride at the front of our little party as we head onto the outskirts of my father's land.
I want everyone to know it's me. I want there to be no question in anyone's mind that Lady Iolanthe has arrived to see her father. I make sure we slow down in the village and I wave greetings to everyone, calling several of the people by their names. I know them, just as I know several of them used to work at the keep for my father and no longer do because he stopped paying them. Even the poor have to eat, but my father doesn't care. I'm starting to realize how truly selfish my father is, and it's difficult. Even though I'm upset, he's still my father. He's still the person I'm most familiar with in this world.
Or…he was. Funny how in just a few short weeks I know Agakor better than I know the man I've lived with for thirty years.
Determined, I ride right up the road, heading for Rockmourn Keep. As I head there, I see multiple encampments on my father's lands. Near the road, at the edges of the crop fields, soldiers cluster around campfires. That's concerning. It really does look as if he's enlisting an army. Most of the faces I don't recognize, and the ones I do, I make sure to call out a greeting to. "Thorvald," I call to my father's blacksmith. "How are the children?"
I'm gratified at the look of astonishment on his face.
It doesn't take long for my father's man-at-arms to race through the camps to meet me. Sir Foyleton marches up, wearing his greaves and vambraces over a mud-stained tunic. He looks flabbergasted to see me as well. I call out a cheery greeting from atop my horse. "Sir Foyleton! You look quite well. My goodness, it's so busy here. Is my father around?"
I give him my brightest, emptiest smile, since I'm a daughter that's known for staying inside by the fire and reading or sewing instead of paying attention to warlike things. If I seem sweet and useless, they'll treat me like such.
He gives the men at my side—all better-armored and far more dangerous-looking than my father's ragtag mercenaries—a scrutinizing look. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh! I heard a terrible rumor that someone was saying that I was being held against my will, so I decided to come and visit my father and reassure him that I'm just fine." I beam at him. "Is he nearby? I'd love to see him."
Sir Foyleton hesitates. "I'm sure he is. Would you like to come to the keep with me, my lady?"
I pat my horse's neck and do my best to look relaxed, even though I'm tired and my backside feels like it's on fire. I know what this plan is. They don't want the men to hear the truth about why my father is picking a fight. If I show up and parade around, I can't very well look like a hostage. Just being here is ruining his plans. So I say, "I'm doing quite well up here. Can't Father come meet me outside? It's a lovely day."
