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Ragnar’s brows bent at quizzical angles, but Leif nodded.
“I’ve studied the maps. The Bridelands are up in the mountains, yes? And the Bride Pass leads down into the Crownlands?”
“Yes. There’s a chateau in Merryweather, currently occupied by a Sel noble and general, same as the manor in Kenmark. We plan to move under cover of night, a small strike force, and take Merryweather without a lot of fuss. From there, through deception, we can draw out the general in Kenmark, and take that house as well. We want to build a chain of defenses in case we should need to execute a strategic retreat. The ultimate goal, however, is to pierce the Crownlands, establish a camp, and prepare for a siege.”
He nodded, but lifted a single brow. “A fine strategy…if you had the numbers for it.”
She sighed. “I know. We’d hoped your uncle might be close behind you, to beef up our ranks.”
A shadow passed behind his eyes at mention of King Erik; a flicker of lashes, a sour twist of his mouth. “He might be. How long can you wait?”
It was her turn to frown sourly. “Originally, we’d planned to march yesterday – but then – well, then Iknewyou were nearly here, and we rode out to meet you.” She shook her hand. “That portal…that changes things. Our enemy could attack us anywhere. I still don’t understand how they wereright there, that they knew our whereabouts on the road.”
“The dream,” Ragnar said, drawing both their attentions again. “That was how you found us, isn’t it? In the dream world.” When she stared at him, startled – none of them had mentioned the visions yet – he grinned and said, “Did you think it wasjusta dream? That we didn’t have it as well?”
She remembered falling onto her backside in the grass, Leif standing over her, two-legged, finally, extending his hand to her. Not a dream, no. She’d known that, but having Ragnar wink at her left her face heating all over again.
She said, “It wasn’t a dream. It’s the Between.”
“Where you go to speak with your sister and the others?” Leif asked.
“Yes. According to Náli, it’s a place that lies between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead.”
Leif’s brows went up. “There’s only one Corpse Lord among us.”
“My concern exactly. It’s a plane Náli’s been visiting since he was a child, and he was able to show the three of us how to access it as well. From what I can tell, we can enter it purposefully, but we also enter it in our sleep, while dreaming. It’s…” She gestured beside her head, practical side fighting to wrap itself around the idea of all this bloody magic. “Quite a lot to comprehend. But, essentially? Yes, that’s how I knew you were coming. That’s why I took a party north along the road to meet you.” Her gaze shifted unbidden to the thick linen wrappings that encased his chest and stomach. “Though now I wish we’d waited here, and let you arrive at your own pace.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Leif said. “None of us could have.”
“Wait,” Ragnar said, voice too-loud in the quiet that fell after Leif’s consoling words. Too-loud on purpose, she thought, when she glanced over and saw the uneven cock of his brows, and the faint, though visible traces of affrontery in his gaze. He wasn’t shy about flirting, but there was a streak of jealousy in him, she thought. He’d shifted forward in his chair so his elbows rested on the edge of the mattress: staking a claim on the man laid out in it. “So you’re saying one of those gold bastards was lying in the long grass? Spying on us?”
“Someone was, I think,” she said. “How else could they have known where and when to strike?”
“And you’ve been scouting for weeks,” Leif added. “They waited until you were on horseback, rather than on the drake. And once we’d rendezvoused, so they might take us both out at once and save a second trip.”
Amelia nodded. “I think we must assume that they’ll try something like it again.”
“Or something worse,” Ragnar put in.
“We need more scouts,” Leif said. “Two waves of them, staggered, the first at least a mile ahead.”
“Connor’s woodsmen are good for that: they’re much savvier about climbing, and tracking, and spotting things that are out of place.”
“The wolves can help as well. We were far too bunched up, and the smell of the burned-out burn covered up the smell of the girl until it was too late.”
His use ofwewas terribly encouraging. She’d been feeling for weeks as though she held this campaign together by the skin of her teeth – as though she was an imposter, playacting while the adults watched her with a combination of pity and fascination. She knew that wasn’t true, that it was only her insecurity and imagination, but having the prince of Aeretoll, powerful in his own right even without considering his skinwalker status, throw his support behind her made the upcoming march seem a more manageable task.
She nodded. “The help would be appreciated. I’m going to call a formal meeting in three day’s time. Will that give you enough recovery time? Will you be able to attend?”
His frown was born of determination, she thought. “More than enough.”
Ragnar patted his knee where it lay humped beneath the covers and said, “I’ll be the judge of that.” He turned a sunny smile on Amelia, his gaze full of dismissal. “I think this one needs a nap for now, my lady. He gets grumpy if he doesn’t get enough sleep.”
Leif protested, but Amelia met Ragnar’s gaze and nodded. “Rest well, then.”
She felt their eyes on her back as she departed, burning like hot irons.
22
