Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I couldn’t believe I’d already been forced back onto a horse. I rubbed my sore backside absently as I stood in the doorway of the tent, dreading the thought of getting back in a saddle and sustaining further bruising. I hadn’t slept a wink, which was unusual for me. I could sleep through anything, a skill I learned first surviving in the streets and then living in a suvoir. I could sleep through discomfort, noise, cold, hunger. Even fear. If I hadn’t been able to do that, I’d never have slept at all. But it wasn’t fear that kept me up all night. Fear would have meant I was dreading the morning, wanting to put off the moment it arrived. But I stared hungrily for that first brush of dawn, anticipation raising the hair on my arms as the glow of pink spilled over the crests of the hills beyond. As the light spread, clarity returned. I realised how I’d been scanning the dark, hoping to see something I wouldn’t admit to, even though we were still a good hour’s ride away from the meeting point.

The sounds of Mae stirring were followed by her voice, husky with sleep. ‘You’re up early.’

‘Couldn’t sleep.’ I tore my eyes away from those pink hills to let the door to the tent flap shut. I returned to my bed and sat cross-legged as Mae stretched her arms high above her head, yawning widely. Then she squinted at me like I was something that had crawled into the tent during the night and she was trying to make out what I was.

‘What kept you up?’ she asked.

‘I thought that might be obvious,’ I muttered.

‘Not really.’

‘Well, clearly I’m not looking forward to these negotiations.’

‘Sure. Clearly.’

I narrowed my gaze at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. Do you think they’ll be serving breakfast this early?’ She wriggled out of her bed and busied herself with unbinding her hair as she avoided my question. I decided to ignore the comment, turning my attention to getting myself dressed. I had enough to worry about today without wondering at things Mae wasn’t going to say outright.

I‘d been surprised when it was decided that she would be the one who would reveal her true nature and join the negotiation. She’d dropped the illusions that had shadowed her pointed ears, rounded her features and obscured the peculiar violet colour of her eyes, and it hadn’t done much to help those we were travelling with in warming to her. Though, it wasn’t like they were any less wary of me, so perhaps her inhuman features weren’t the problem. In any case, the other Yoxvese were with the army lumbering along behind us at a much slower pace. Gwinellyn had slotted them in among the other Brimordian refugees serving as soldiers and healers and servers, still pretending to be human while Mae tested to see if she would be left alone or snatched up by Dovegni or Lidello to replenish their dwindling supplies of magic. Perhaps her knife-throwing abilities made her the best choice for the role, giving her some ability to defend herself while being less conspicuous and abrasive than Goras. I had the sense Elias had protested. Vocally, if Gwinellyn’s pinched expression had been anything to go by.

In any case, I was glad Mae was with us. We’d all be grateful for her abilities with reading, recognising and defending against magic when we were trapped in a room with a man who had, among other crimes, managed to compel Gwinellyn to jump from a roof. Her skills were something no druthi could replicate, which made her and her friends as valuable an asset in this war as my lightning did, a fact Ocetold’s king seemed to be beginning to understand.

Digging through the small trunk I’d been assigned for my belongings, I found the jar of face cream Vic had given me and quickly smeared some on. If Mae had noticed I was using druthi magic to soften my scars, she hadn’t said anything, and it made my stomach squirm with guilt to wonder what she must think of me for it. But now that I’d started using it, I had to keep going. Like every other iteration of magic I’d ever known, there were consequences for using beauty products laced with enchantment. The only way to avoid the corrosive effects was to keep applying it. I buried the little jar back at the bottom of the trunk and picked out a set of soft leather pants. I’d swiped them from the soldier supplies the day before, and I held them before me with my head cocked. Mae’s brows shot up her forehead when she turned around to find me pulling them on.

‘Doesn’t human culture have rules around the way women dress?’ she asked as I stretched my legs to see how they fit. They were snug around my hips but looser around the ankles, and a little long. I snorted at her comment as I rolled up the cuffs.

‘The rules can kiss my ass. These will be so much more convenient for all the riding we’ve been doing. And besides, I’ll be fighting alongside the army when we reach Port Howl, so I should be granted the same practicalities as the men are.’

‘I thought the point of these negotiations was to avoid a battle.’

‘I don’t for one second believe Draven is going to negotiate any kind of peace,’ I replied, slipping my nightdress off and tossing it to the floor before donning the tunic I’d stolen at the same time as the pants. It was a little loose, and the thin fabric left my breasts more pronounced than I was used to, but I could wear a vest or perhaps a soft set of stays beneath it to prevent anyone gawking at them. And the overlong sleeves didn’t bother me, since they obscured the colourful bruises on my wrists from the annulment ceremony. ‘We’ll be marching on Port Howl, don’t you worry.’

When I was dressed, I finally turned my full focus on her long enough to notice that she’d sat back down on her bedroll. She was tensely drawn, fingers absently picking at the hilt of one of her throwing knives as she sat cross-legged, staring into the distance.

‘Are you alright?’ I asked, and her gaze cleared as she turned it on me.

‘No,’ she said, surprising me with the honesty.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m worried about who I might see in that farmhouse today too.’

‘Who do you think you’ll see?’

‘Someone important.’ She dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Someone I love very much.’

Twisting my mouth, I sank back onto my bedroll, feeling strangely uneasy in the face of what was clearly intense affection in her voice. If I was to take a guess, I would have said she was speaking of a lover.

‘Her name’s Orym. She left the Living Valley a year ago to join the renegades, though she snuck back a few times to see me,’ Mae continued, a bitter smile playing on her mouth as she stared at a spot just beyond her lap. ‘Told me that Koschei had done everything he’d said he would. I suppose he has.’

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. ‘And now she's fighting for him?’

Mae's laugh was low and humorless, her fingers still tapping rhythmically against the hilt of her knife. ‘Fighting for him. Believing in him. If Orym is in Port Howl, then maybe she’s willing to die for him or kill for him too.’

To kill for him. I could only guess at how such an admission weighed on her. I couldn’t pretend to understand the Yoxvese abhorrence of violence and commitment to sacrificing themselves to their principles, but I knew the fact that this Orym would turn against something so central to their way of life must be difficult for Mae to process. ‘Why?’

Her shoulders sagged as she left off fiddling with her knife to run her hands over her face. ‘Her sister was taken by binders and sold to the blood trade. She hasn’t been the same since.’

‘Are you worried about what she’ll do to you if you see her today?’ I found myself asking.

Her brow folded and she looked up at me quizzically. ‘Well, no. She’d never hurt me. I’m just… worried about what she’s become. And I hope she’s alright.’

I nodded absently. Stupid question to ask. Most people’s former lovers weren’t outright villains who’d been broken into jagged pieces by even greater villains like that cretin Lidello. Again, an unwelcome surge of feeling welled up in me at that thought, and I had to swallow it back down. I didn’t need the burden of sympathy or compassion when I sat at that table today.

I stood up and offered Mae a hand. ‘Putting it off won’t help. Let’s go and face them.’

She sighed, taking my hand and letting me pull her to her feet. When we exited the tent, it was to find the rest of our small party breakfasting at a bench erected just for this occasion and attended by a flurry of servants bearing bowls and platters serving the kind of fare we absolutely should not have been lugging along with us if we wanted to make our rendezvous quickly. But King Esario seemed well used to luxury, so I doubted he’d be eager to forgo his morning feast.

The mood at the table was tense, with little conversation beyond whatever quips Vic Gedelli could conjure about the local towns in his attempts to amuse Gwinellyn, who looked pale and drawn. Across from her sat a solemn, mostly silent man called Morozov, one of Esario’s foremost generals, who carried himself like he was made of stone. With Mae as Gwinellyn’s choice and myself as the one person who had to be included no matter what, we made up the six members of the group who would be sitting at the negotiating table.

From this point, we would travel with only a handful of guards, though Morozov had been in communication with people who were scouting the way ahead ever since we’d left Sarmiers, trying to spot any signs of an ambush or some other kind of trap. It didn’t seem like nearly enough security measures to me. There was no way Draven would feel bound to the rules of fair play that dictated no one would strike during a truce like this.

The tension lingered long after we set out, hanging over us like fog as we rode through the rugged countryside. Conversation remained sparse, limited to quiet exchanges about the terrain ahead and the precautions Morozov’s scouts had reported back. The landscape rolled past in muted shades of brown and green, until at last, we crested a hill. Below, nestled in the valley, was the rendezvous point. A grand old farmhouse, built in tan-coloured stone and sprawling out to the banks of a robust stream, with a handful of outbuildings scattered around it. But the garden was overgrown, and the roof needed to be reshingled. Not the location I’d pictured for a meeting that could decide the fate of a war.

My heart lurched when I realised there were already horses tied up outside.

We dismounted to allow the guards time to scout out the scene. I jumped when a hand touched my back, jolting round to realise Mae was standing beside me.

‘Don’t sneak up on me like that!’ I gasped. She had already yanked her hand away, eyes fixed on my clenched fist. It was sparking, I realised. I took a few deep breaths, willing the magic to settle.

‘Are you alright?’ she asked gently.

‘I’m fine. Just uptight. I should have slept more,’ I muttered, turning away from her. My magic had never done that before, leapt into life without my conscious decision to call it forth. It unnerved me a little. But I pushed that aside as the scouts returned and confirmed it was safe to approach.

Our advance went unchallenged, though we were all clearly on edge, with weapons constantly held at the ready and necks craning to scan the surroundings. But the scene remained quiet and still. Through a grubby window, I caught sight of a flicker of movement. And the suspense of it all, the debating, the news of the invasion, the clandestine journey here, was suddenly too much for me. I wanted to march into that room and just get the moment over with, then it couldn’t haunt me anymore. I’d mounted the steps of the porch when a hand caught my arm.

‘Wait,’ Esario said firmly. ‘We need word from Morozov that it’s safe to go in.’

I withdrew my foot from the step, irritated by yet another pause. What did he think it would achieve? We were in too deep now for a final sweep of the farmhouse to do us any good. If this was some kind of set up, then we were already right where they wanted us. Each delay just gave my nerves time to catch up with me. I wanted to barge through that door on a tide of action and bluster, not stand here wringing my hands as I imagined what walking in would be like. He was in there. And last time I’d seen him, I’d brought him to his knees. What version of Draven would I encounter today? Would he be the angry, terrifying one who’d chased me, or the one who begged me to stay?

A few moments later, Morozov confirmed we could proceed with a tense nod, but it was too late now. I tried to breathe steadily while adrenaline skipped carelessly through my veins, rattling my knotted muscles.

Vic paused at the top of the step and stared at me. ‘Rhiandra?’

I stiffened my spine. There was no way I was going to let fear claim me now. ‘Coming,’ I said, and strode through the door.