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Chapter 12 ~ Equals

Dàibhid

When I was thirteen, my parents let me sit in on petitions. I’d sometimes viewed them from the sidelines when I didn’t have anything else I felt like doing, but I’d never sat on the dais next to my parents and paid close attention. That first time, I was overwhelmed by how many people were staring at me—not just as part of the royal family, but as someone who would one day sit on the throne my father occupied, with a queen in the seat next to him. My mind was full of cotton, preoccupied with those stares. But as I kept attending, my parents and eventually Cianán pointing things out to me before and after, I’d learned about the sort of behavior I had to maintain.

I had to be compassionate, patient, attentive, confident. They came naturally to me when interacting with the people, something my mother always pointed out. Still, my father cautioned against showing my complete self. Only his family and closest friends ever knew his depths, and it would be wise of me to do the same.

So while my people knew I was caring, they did not know precisely how affectionate I could be, which was why I fought to keep my smile merely pleased, not thrilled, and my ass in my seat when Brí walked into the throne room with a similarly restrained smile. If it was just the two of us, I’d be smothered in a bear hug by now.

My little sister stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed, the light through the large windows catching the royal crest embossed on the pin that kept her cloak over her shoulders. Her blond hair was in a harsh braid, revealing her face to everyone in the room. Rumors had spread that I was welcoming someone today, and all who had come to seek aid had chosen to stay to witness it.

“Welcome home, sister.”

“I’m glad to be home, brother. To see you. All of you”—she turned her head to glance at everyone—“after being gone so long.”

Most present wore expressions of relief—the Exile threat was becoming more real to more people, the burning of The Crown still feeding fears, making Ardannians warier by the day. Brí was known throughout the kingdom as a skilled fighter and a fierce defender of her people. Having her, the youngest army commander in known history, in the capital was sure to quell some of the fear, and hopefully give pause to whatever rebels might be lurking about.

Addressing the crowd, I said, “I’ll consider the requests I was unable to aid immediately and have messengers sent to you soon. Please stay safe.”

I led Brí out the side door and toward the war room, where Rígan, Maya, and Lou would meet us. Once we were far enough away from the throne room, Brí enveloped me in that expected hug.

“Seriously, I’m glad I’m home. I missed you.”

I gave her forehead a peck. “I missed you, too.”

She pulled away, looking up slightly to meet my gaze. “Before we get to the war room, I suppose I should introduce you.”

“Pardon?”

A woman, a touch taller than me, slunk up beside us, giving me a start. Brí, however, didn’t react more than a quirk of her mouth.

“This is áine Leanbhir. áine, my brother, King Dàibhid.”

áine bowed swiftly and rose with precision, as sharp as the multitude of daggers strapped to her person. I landed on one sheathed to her left thigh, a beautiful black wooden hilt carved into a mythical water bird entwined with vines and flowers.

But it was her last name that gave me pause. I side-eyed Brí, who nodded as though telling me to trust her. Because Leanbhir was a warrior family’s name, hailing from the Keep, and had historically shown views more in line with Balor’s than ours.

I kept the uncertainty to myself, though. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, áine.”

“Likewise, Your Majesty. I’m at your disposal.” Her accent was largely Qianhúen, but a touch of the Cunlaran lilt still made it in.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“I grew up in Qianhú, where my mother is from. My father is Cunlaran.”

She offered no more. I eyed Brí again, who gave another encouraging nod.

But the issue still nagged at me.

“Your father comes from a warrior family?” I said. Brí clicked her tongue at my words, soft enough for only me to hear. But what if the daughter of a warrior family could be swayed by the Exiles?

áine’s features twisted into such heavy disdain that I was tempted not to put much weight into the concern. Her brown-black eyes darkened. “They can all rot. An opinion my father shares.”

I nodded, starting toward the war room. That much hate couldn’t be faked.

Cianán met us partway.

“Princess Bríghid.” He clasped her hands. “These halls have been quiet without you filling them with your laughter.”

Brí gave one of those laughs. “I can tell you’re trying to kiss up to me, Cianán. It’s not a good look on you.”

“And yet the words are still the truth.” Brí pulled him in for a quick hug, one he returned tenfold.

I checked the sun through the window, finding it was past noon. “We’ll be late for the meeting if we’re not careful.”

“A king can’t be late to a meeting he called,” Cianán said. It was a serious comment, one he firmly believed. Of course, he wasn’t the only one—many believed monarchs were entitled to infractions others were not. But being thoughtful wasn’t hard. My mother had always encouraged me to cultivate that trait; I wasn’t about to stop now.

The tables in the war room were laden with sandwiches and meats and fruits, as well as the berry tarts I’d asked the kitchen to make for Brí. She swiveled toward them, the dusting of sugar permeating the air, and I could have sworn she was going to swoon. Drool was close to inevitable.

“Are tarts more important than me?” Lou teased, rising from their seat.

“It’s been almost an equal amount of time since I’ve seen you or tarts. You can wait your turn.” Despite the words, she abandoned the tarts and gave Lou a hug. Maya and I watched the reunion fondly. áine studied the room while Cianán studied her.

I motioned for Lou to introduce my sister to Maya.

“Brí, this is Maya. Maya, Princess Bríghid.”

“Brí will do fine,” my sister said. “I hear we’ll be working together.”

“As a team of equals,” I said, reminding everyone that while she was here, Brí wasn’t going to be operating in a commander capacity; that would be my job. I pushed aside the concern that rose as I took in my sister and áine. Two more lives I had to gamble with.

No. I wasn’t gambling. This needed to be done. We could avoid so much violence with this plan.

But if I had to make a hard call, if things didn’t work out . . .

I couldn’t think like that, either. And I could count on Brí to help me if things did need readjusting. I could count on all of them.

I glanced at áine. I’d have to trust my sister about her.

Then I glanced at the rest of the room. A certain redhead was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Rígan?” I’d half expected her to be watching the proceedings from a chair, but that didn’t make much sense. She would have said something much sooner than this had she been here.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, she sent word that she might be a moment or two late,” Maya said.

“I think we saw her in the gardens,” Brí said. “Slipped my mind. She had a visitor.” Maya and Lou exchanged twin expressions of confusion.

“I imagine it’s something important,” I said.

Cianán shot me a look, conveying exactly what he thought about Rígan dismissing the order of a king. But since they’d returned from their first mission, I felt I could relax more around the sellswords. Conversations always came easily, and while respectful, the three of them seemed to dull little of themselves around me. It was nice. And though I was the head of this team, their behavior and very personalities made me want to be as close to equals as they were in this. And, just maybe, I liked the thought of being their friend, even if that would make the task of sending them out that much harder. I’d never really had many friends.

But no matter what, I had to put my trust in them, and they in me. Rígan was never late when summoned, not before today. And perhaps it was foolish, but the way she reminded me of my former friend made me want to put even more faith in her.

“Let’s eat first,” I said. The plates had yet to be touched, and a trout sandwich was calling my name. “Not much talking will occur for a little while, given its presence.”

After we’d collected what we wanted, Brí introduced áine to the others.

“Quite a collection,” Lou said, indicating to her daggers. “Do I see a Qianhúen blade?”

áine put a protective hand over the vine-and-bird hilt. I caught sight of her palm. Scars slashed across it. Not like Rígan’s small nicks; prominent ones. “Yes.”

“It’s beautiful. I tried to make one like it for myself. Different steel, not the smooth cut that those come with, but at least in style. But there’s something specific to it that I haven’t quite figured out. I made this one instead.” Lou pulled a sheathed dagger from their side, showing off the hilt. It had vines similar to áine’s, but none of the other carvings. The vines, though, were exquisite.

“It’s lovely.” áine extended a hand, and Lou gave it to her, peppering her with questions about her own. Cianán stiffened as her fingers closed around the hilt. I let it go. It was clear she was already armed.

It was shortly after that when Rígan entered, breathing heavier than normal, face flushed. My lips twitched. Had she run here?

My attention snapped from her face to the rest of her. I had never seen her in a dress. The usual clothes she wore looked good on her, but this, this was something else, beyond the words I possessed. Maybe it was the novelty of it, the light-gray fabric trailing her, turning her into something ethereal. But, more likely, it was the way she wore it, how she commanded a room, head high, shoulders back. Regal. I had the intense urge to see what would happen if she paired it with a crown.

“Apologies for being late, Your Majesty.” She curtsied—another first for me—before making her way to the food. She piled her plate high, tucking a couple tarts precariously on the edge. She took a seat, her sleeves falling gently as she settled. I forced myself to look back at her face, but her knowing smile implied she’d seen me looking. Had enjoyed it. My neck burned.

Then the easy smile she was so good at changed into something more casual, and the moment was past.

I cleared my throat. “Rígan, this is my sister, Princess Bríghid, and our new sellsword, áine. Brí and áine, Morrígan Feighlí.”

“It’s nice to have an official introduction,” Brí said.

“Likewise,” Rígan said.

“And your visitor?” I asked.

Rígan fiddled with her fork, the metal gleaming in the candlelight. “May we speak of that later? I don’t want to distract from why we’re here.”

Maya and Lou glanced curiously at her while Cianán shifted in his seat, looking for all the world like he didn’t know how to jump into any part of our conversation. He hadn’t been around often when I’d seen the sellswords, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to interact with them.

“Shall we turn to the matter at hand?” he said.

“Of course.” I explained the past few weeks to Brí and áine with the help of the trio. At some point, Brí had put her utensils down and laced her fingers together, leaning forward. áine’s frown deepened with each new detail. “The petitions today only prove how much we need information on the Exiles. Their numbers, locations, plans, anything we could use against Balor.”

“As blackmail?” áine asked.

“As incentive. While numbers, locations, and plans will help us figure out how to at least slow down Exile movements, if not stop them altogether, finding Balor’s weaknesses should help me bring him to the negotiation table.”

“You said in your letter you’d like everything to be as peaceful as possible, correct?” Brí said.

“Correct. The more violence we avoid, the better. If we keep this quiet, we can catch the Exiles and the rebels by surprise. Use as few people as possible to stop them, all while getting Balor to talk to me and putting an end to this without a war.”

“It’s worth a try,” Cianán said.

It would work. It had to.

“We tried the Keep,” I said. “It’s still shut, and sending you into such an unknown could be pointless.” Not to mention remarkably risky. “And given Lord Ríos’s propensity to respond to anything I send in his own due time, I’m not holding my breath I’ll get a response any time soon. So, we’ll try somewhere else. We need concrete information, so we need to find somewhere that could be ripe with it.”

“Did you learn anything new at petitions?” Brí asked.

“I heard accounts of a few attacks around the country, but nothing the local city guards can’t handle. Still, the people are terrified something like the farms or The Crown is going to happen again.”

“If the rebels’ eagerness at the crossroads tavern was any indication, I’d have to agree with them,” Rígan muttered.

“How often are the attacks random rather than planned?” Brí asked.

“At least sometimes,” I said. “But I’m assuming some of them are more organized, especially the bigger attacks. Potentially sanctioned by Balor or someone high up in his ranks.”

“Does it matter?” Rígan said. “They’re attacking in his name, and he’s doing nothing to dissuade it.” Brí sat back, shocked by Rígan’s tone.

“Have you heard anything at the Stone Fortress, Brí?” I asked, hoping she’d see Rígan’s point didn’t offend me.

“Not much,” Brí said, moving past her shock. “I didn’t openly ask around for information, in case Exiles got to anyone, but the fortresses routinely share reports with each other. Onyx Watch has gotten word from the northern coastal towns that Exiles are still making their way in. No details, no numbers, but enough for them to send more soldiers to aid the city guards.”

“Why have I not heard of this?” How long had it been going on?

“I only received that report the other day. For now, it’s nothing they can’t handle.” She said it rushed enough that I knew what she wasn’t saying—there were things that needed to be handled, and they weren’t good. But she carried on before I could say anything. “One of the soldiers is meant to arrive here in the coming weeks with more information for you.”

And with the northern areas being the ones I wanted to focus on, that information could prove extremely valuable.

“Any idea where’s been hit the hardest?” I asked.

“They were tight-lipped. I’m assuming it’s for the same reason I didn’t ask questions.” Brí stared at the map on the wall. “Until we know, it’s best to plan for all options, or at least the most likely one. I’d also advise planning for an offensive attack, in case it comes to that.”

Cianán focused on his plate. Brí knew as well as me that he wanted to do everything possible to avoid the offensive and ignored his sullen shift. Unlike him, she could see the benefits of both routes and plan accordingly for each. It was the reason she was one of my best commanders, and the reason I’d asked her here.

I avoided looking down at my own plate. I wanted her to help me make the tough calls. This was a tough call, and I needed to be open to it. Even if I fought her on the actual follow-through should she suggest it.

Rígan sat forward, her hair sliding over her shoulder. I stared at it a little too long before she spoke. “So if we can’t try the Keep again, what would be a good choice of target we can scope out? In theory, until that report comes in.”

I stood, striding to the map. “If Onyx is right, and if the rumors you three heard are correct, as well as the general reports I’ve gotten, the Exiles should be coming in from the north. Gaining information as to how they’re coming in, who’s helping them, perhaps finding a weak link to speak to, that's our priority.” Maya stared at the map from her seat. “What are you thinking?”

“If the Exiles are arriving in a northern port, there are three possibilities,” she said. “Tàlev’s Keep, Tírdorcha, and Glaochnamara. But the Keep is far enough southwest that it doesn’t make sense for them to sail directly there, especially now that it’s closed off. And someone like Balor wouldn’t stop sending Exiles because of a hiccup. Which leaves Glaochnamara and Tírdorcha.”

I stared at both locations. “Glaochnamara is a trade town, and sister city to Fenwald’s Hafenstadt. I doubt the Exiles would risk alerting Fenwald to its movements if they’re still trying to remain mostly hidden.”

Maya nodded her agreement.

“Have you heard any Exile news from your family, Rígan?” Lou asked.

Rígan frowned in thought. “I haven’t. But I can ask my sister.”

I’d need to make sure she had supplies to write a letter, and perhaps help her determine how to write it in a covert fashion.

“Even so,” Cianán said. “Glaochnamara could be a viable location. You’re right to doubt that likelihood, Your Majesty, but perhaps Balor is counting on that.”

“It’s possible,” Brí said. “It would be like hiding in plain sight.”

“And that port is so busy,” Rígan said, “the direction the ships arrive from might be overlooked.”

“If you have family there, it would be good to reach out,” I said. “See what they know. We should wait on their word before exploring that option further. Which leaves Tírdorcha.” I stared at the most northern town on the map. “With what we know, it is a viable option.”

“It gets a lot of ships, even if it’s not as many as Glaochnamara, right?” Maya asked.

“Right.”

“Isn’t it a religious city?” áine asked.

“In a way,” I said. “Do you know much about it?” She shook her head. “Before people began worshipping the deities as a group, they were worshipped by region, with the people believing their deity was more powerful, or more important, or deserved to rule over the entire island.”

“My father told me as much, but never the details.”

I tapped Tírdorcha, the Dark Land. “That was the capital of Dérra’s territory.”

Brí shivered. “Dérra always creeped me out as a child. Goddess of Afterlife, cold, and darkness? No, thanks.”

“She’s supposed to be quite motherly,” Cianán said. “Only those who have committed horrors in life are subjected to her monstrous side.”

The darker part of me hoped the Exiles would see that monstrous side.

“The people in Tírdorcha still revere life in a way that places death as important,” I said. “Not as something to be rushed, but as something sacred. Their funeral rites are more elaborate than anywhere on the island, and their shrines are some of the largest we have. So in some ways they’re more religious, but they’re similar to other major Cunlaran cities in others.”

“The Exiles could be sneaking in that way,” Rígan said. “It’s as viable as Glaochnamara, really.”

“Unless they aren’t arriving at a port at all,” Maya said. “The cities aren’t the only possibilities.”

Lou frowned, staring at the coastline. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“While we wait for word from Rígan’s family, it might also be worth waiting for that Onyx report before we dive into each option,” Brí said.

“Agreed,” I said. Perhaps, at the very least, the added information would help avoid the outcome of the last mission.

I took in the group’s determined expressions. They wanted to do this. I found myself trying to commit their faces to memory, despite no mission being planned and no guarantee they wouldn’t make it out. My gaze involuntarily darted to Maya’s side, which was healing well. Still, it could have been fatal.

I schooled my features into something I hoped appeared optimistic, or at least neutral. “In the meantime, keep up your training, learn how to work together as a group. As equals,” I said again, glancing at Brí. She was used to being the head of her own unit; I wondered how easy it would be to slip out of the role. “I’ll have guards show you where you can train. Rígan? Did you want to share about your visitor?”

She looked at everyone in the room, lingering on Brí, áine, and Cianán, her lips pulling in.

“We can talk privately, if you’d like.”

Lou and Maya stood, like they didn’t want to be rude by staying when Rígan was hesitant about the others being there. She nodded at them as if in thanks, and the five of them filed out, leaving me alone with Rígan. Though it wasn’t the first time I was alone with her, my palms sweat like it was. Her shifting moods kept me on my toes; I was hoping for the side that was friendly and open, quick to make a joke like she was comfortable with me.

I became self-conscious of the way I was standing, quickly making my way to a seat beside her. She swirled her wine in her glass, watching as the light caught it while I watched her.

“I suppose they could have stayed,” she said. “It’s not like it’s bad news, but it does involve someone who isn’t me, and I don’t need to share that with everyone until we have this discussion.” She didn’t have to say not including Maya and Lou.

“It’s alright. What news?”

She set the glass down. The evident enthusiasm from when she’d first come in had faded. “My sister has come.”

“Your sister? The one I offered to have brought here?” The one I thought she was going to write to about Exiles in Glaochnamara?

She nodded. “She never had an adventurous streak like me. Trained with me, yes, but it was more to keep me company than to become any sort of sellsword.” She hastily picked the glass back up, taking a gulp. “I can’t decide if she should be here right now. I thought she should be, and I’ve missed her, but given the Exiles and the danger and everything said at this meeting—”

I put up a hand, somehow sensing she was about to ramble anxiously. A new look for her, and yet I felt it coming as if I’d known her forever. “You said she trained?”

She didn’t balk at the interruption. “Yes. Sword and arrows like me, though she favored the arrows.”

“And she came here to, what, visit?”

“To figure out who she is.” Quieter, “Sort of like I did.”

I put my hand over hers on the table. The back of her hand was soft, like I’d imagined. The urge to sweep my thumb over the smooth skin was overwhelming, but I kept my fingers still. She didn’t balk at the touch, either. “Then perhaps you should listen to her wishes. Speaking as someone with a sister, I know the urge to protect them. But maybe yours can protect herself.”

Rígan scoffed, pulling back. “I know she can in some situations. And she’d remind me that she’s the older one, not me. That she should be the one doing the protecting.” She looked at the door, like her sister might walk in. “She’s a good emotional protector. A good listener, sometimes to her own detriment. But she was never serious about the fighting.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have to do any. We can set her up here, she can explore the city—”

“I don’t know if that would satisfy her,” Rígan said. Her eyes flashed to mine, her mouth closing swiftly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“I interrupted you a moment ago. Besides, it’s never stopped you before.”

“I suppose it hasn’t. You’re just . . .” She paused, seemingly torn.

“Just?”

“Easy to talk to.” She drank deeply once more.

I caught myself staring. So, she did like talking with me as I did with her. Was she embarrassed by that? Did she think she shouldn’t be comfortable talking to me given our professional relationship?

But I’d already thought about how I wanted her as a friend. She made me feel at ease, her confidence was contagious, and anyone could see how fiercely she loved her friends. How could I not want to be closer with her? Thomas was a friend, and he worked for me, so why couldn’t she be one, too?

“Have her think things over,” I said. “And ask her about Glaochnamara. It will be some time before you’re sent out again. Perhaps she can pick up her training, see if she’d feel comfortable going with you. Given the presence of the others, having a lookout who’s good with a bow and arrow might come in useful.”

The suggestion was hard to get out. It was a good idea to have a lookout, and having six on the team instead of five was good logic if they needed to split up. But her sister sounded more like a civilian than a soldier, and sending soldiers out was hard enough. But this was Rígan’s family; it wasn’t my call to make, not entirely.

With a start, I realized the mission might also take them to their family. I sincerely hoped that wouldn’t be the case; it would be harder to have them remain covert should things bring them to their family’s neighborhood.

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re doing a lot of supposing in this conversation,” I teased. “I didn’t peg you for someone who ‘supposed’ anything.”

“Did you expect only swaggering confidence?” Her smile was dazzling. I was sure she knew what she was doing with it, but it sent my heart pounding anyway.

“Perhaps.”

Her smile grew, then vanished. She stood. “I should get back to my sister.”

I stood too, helping her push back her chair. “We can have a room made up for her in your apartments. She can stay here while she’s considering. For as long as she likes, really.”

She focused over my shoulder. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Dàibhid.” I let it slip before I could think it over. “You can call me Dàibhid.”

She looked at me, eyes wide. It wasn’t every day a monarch made that request, but the thought of her continuing to use my title felt wrong, somehow. Off-putting. Like a deceptively itchy shirt.

Surprise far from gone, she said, “Thank you, Dàibhid.”

Hearing her say my name made my mouth run dry and my pulse jump.

She left before I could get my wits about me.