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Chapter 28 ~ Nausea

Dàibhid

The wind picked up outside, shuddering the canvas of my tent in the camp not far from the village. Lower-hanging tree branches brushed the top, their eerie scratching sending shivers down my spine where I stood.

“Apologies we couldn’t retrieve the pavilion, Your Majesty.” Commander Lochlin pushed the entrance flap aside, holding it as three more guards came in. The pavilion could hold an entire council; what the guards had grabbed was significantly smaller, but it was still a decent size. Room for a small table, a few stools, and a proper cot.

“You did what you could within the parameters you had. Bringing this was more than I expected.” Truthfully, I’d only expected guards and their weapons. But upon receiving my letter, Commander Lochlin had gathered much more. He’d organized the requested two dozen guards, sending two groups out each of the four gates at staggering times. Only a handful of the guards had been questioned but not stopped. A third group had escaped by way of the tunnels, arriving early this morning. Where they’d exited had been better equipped with materials, which they’d taken with them. Everyone else had left with what they could carry under a cloak. Supplies, paper, maps, weapons, practically anything we might need, even if the Grove could provide much of it themselves. A final group would arrive by this evening, ahead of schedule.

“Besides,” I said, “we aren’t planning on waging a battle here, let alone a war.” But the fact we might have the former on our hands at some point sent a wave of nausea over me. Everything I’d fought for. All the lives I’d been trying to save. For what?

I forced it down. I could plan. I could sort through the information in front of me. It would have to be enough of a distraction for now, from both the increasing possibility of large-scale violence and the continued absence of the Shadow Swords.

“The residents of the Grove have given us enough supplies to be here comfortably for a few weeks,” I said. “We’ll figure out what to do beyond then later. For now, we focus on how to proceed with the Exiles in Ardanna.” I unrolled a map of the castle grounds, snatched from the war room. Several guards had thought to pilfer it before leaving; the thought of the Exiles going in and seeing the room depleted provided a sense of satisfaction that pushed the rest of the nausea away. “What are our options?”

Lochlin unrolled another map, this one of the capital. His rectangular frame was tall and imposing, like Cianán’s, but unlike my advisor, coordinating attacks and executing them himself was a strong suit.

He scrubbed at the stubble—a shade darker than his brown, graying hair—on his pale cheeks, frowning. “We can lay siege to the city, force the Exiles out.”

“That’s a final resort,” I said. “It would endanger the people too much, especially with Bailanín far from any of the gates.”

“Storm it?” one of the guards suggested. She seemed even less comfortable with her suggestion than Lochlin had his.

“Same problem,” I said. “The people would get in the way. Worse, they could end up being used as a shield against us.”

“We can’t take either option entirely off the table,” Liam advised. I met his steely gaze. I tried to feel the same resolve he did, the one that helped him make tough calls. It didn’t quite work like it would have if it had been Rígan.

Don’t think about Rígan . Stay focused.

“I know. But I want a different route first.”

“What about the tunnels?” Thomas dragged a finger along the map of the capital, roughly where the tunnels lay. “Was there any indication the Exiles know about them?”

“We have to assume they do,” Cianán said. “Who knows if they saw any of us enter or exit?”

“They probably are compromised,” I agreed. “But not all of them.”

“What are you thinking?” Lochlin asked.

“We need information about what’s going on in the castle. How many Exiles there are and if there are hostages. Balor would have told me the latter if he knew how to get a letter to me.” The fact that I hadn’t received one boded well. He likely didn’t know where I was. “We can send a single person in through a little-known tunnel. One connecting to the sewers. They’re harder to monitor. I doubt the Exiles would put much effort into them.”

“But if they have?” Cianán asked.

“One person going in at the right time has a chance of making it into Bailanín.” I ignored what would happen if they failed. My choices were to get the capital back or leave my people in the Exiles’ clutches. I had to choose the first, no matter what. “They learn what they can and smuggle it back to us. Once we have that, we can gather however many people we need, even if that means getting soldiers from the Stone Fortress”—this time I ignored how that could seem like an act of war—“and enter through this tunnel.” I pointed to the backside of the castle, despite my muscles trying to hold me back.

Liam didn’t react, confirming he understood why I’d revealed it. That tunnel had been knowledge kept only between kings, queens, and captains of the royal guard, knowledge meant to only be used in emergencies. Had we been closest to that tunnel when the Exiles had attacked, we likely would have used it. It might have been for emergency evacuations, but I saw no reason why it couldn’t be for emergency break-ins.

“A smart plan,” Liam said. “We’d need to find someone we could trust to gather the information.”

“Someone on the inside, or out here?” Thomas said.

“Someone on the inside runs less of a risk,” Cianán said. “The Exiles would notice an unfamiliar face before they noticed a regular citizen.”

“Someone who likely frequents the castle grounds, then,” I said.

“A guard?” Lochlin asked.

“That would be perfect.” And it would give them a heightened chance of defending themselves if they came across anyone in the tunnels.

“But how to reach them is the question,” Cianán said.

“We’ll need to find someone for that role, too,” Lochlin said.

“Think on it, Commander,” I said. “You too, Liam. Between the two of you, we should be able to determine the best guards for the jobs.”

“I hate to bring this up, Your Majesty,” another guard said. “But what if the plan goes wrong?”

“Then we look at our other options.” Even if they made me want to throw up.

“And I hate to bring this up,” Liam said, “but what do you plan to do about Balor? The people know you’re doing what you can to stop him, but this is the biggest move he’s made to date. Taking the whole city is not just a way to induce fear but what many could see as the first act of war.”

I forced myself to keep looking at him, to not show the city guards the fear that had me in a chokehold. I also didn’t want to see if there was fear or disappointment on their faces.

I considered his words, though. What I wanted to do was find a way to force Balor to show himself to me. Make this a one-on-one situation, no matter what that looked like. But we had yet to figure out how to make that happen.

But we couldn’t do much of anything on that front without the information the Shadow Swords would hopefully have, nor could we prioritize a secondary course of action over reclaiming Ardanna.

“Let’s focus on retaking the capital first. That will be a partial statement in and of itself. What we do beyond that can be determined after the team brings us their information, and enacted after we have Ardanna under our control.”

“Understood.” The lack of hesitation told me Liam didn’t even want to protest. I sat, my need to plan to distract myself having served its purpose, relief taking the place of anxiety.

Cianán noted my posture and turned to the city guards. “You’re dismissed.”

They filed out, leaving the four of us alone.

“Have you considered drafting that letter to Fenwald?” Thomas asked. “Seeing as we have news for them now.”

I dragged a hand along my chin. I hadn’t shaved that morning, a bit of stubble catching against my fingers. “I have.” And then I’d dismissed it for logical and personal reasons. “But I haven’t taken quill to parchment yet. If we can determine how many Exiles are here, it would go a long way to convince King Wilhelm to send aid. If we need it, of course.”

Though I had to admit, with the breach of the capital, the possibility of requiring aid had increased, and Fenwald was the best ally to turn to.

“Whatever the team gathers might help with that, too,” Liam said.

A kernel of unease at their absence bloomed once again. “Hopefully they get here soon.”

“We’re here now.” The tent flaps pushed aside and red hair glinted in the sunlight. I stood so quickly I knocked my stool over, the flood of relief threatening to drown me.

I worked to get my mouth working beyond the dryness. “Rígan.” Past her, the others stood crowded at the entrance. “You’re alright. All alright.” I had to root myself to where I stood, fighting the urge to sweep Rígan, all of them, into a hug. Instead, I contented myself with looking her over, noting scrapes and bruises but nothing permanent. Not on her or the others. They were safe.

It was the first time I could breathe fully since they’d left, but the tent was too confined.

“Let’s take this outside, shall we?”

We headed for the unoccupied firepit a few guards had dug up around the corner from the tent. Brí pulled me into a hug before I could get far.

“I don’t care about decorum,” she said into my ear. “Are you alright?”

I hugged her just as fiercely. “I’ve been better.” Understatement. “But I’m better now you’re here. And you?”

“About the same.”

I looked at the team again, bypassing Rígan. More emotions threatened to surface, those I’d shoved down right before she’d left, and I couldn’t risk looking at her for too long. Not now. But the others really did seem fine, if not weary.

I guided Brí to a log as Lochlin joined us, brought over by Liam.

“So, Your Majesty, this is who you had helping you.” Lochlin took a spot beside Lou. “I don’t blame you for stealing three of our best people from the gates.”

“High praise, Commander,” Rígan said with a smirk. She turned her gaze on me, and I held it. “The capital?”

I was anxious to hear what they’d found in Tírdorcha, but she was right—Ardanna took precedence.

I told them what they’d missed and the plan, feeling steadier with them present. “Lochlin and Liam will determine who to bring on for help. I’d ask one of you, but with everything going on, I think it makes most sense to keep you together.” And close to me. I didn’t need the anxiety back so soon.

“I can’t believe I’m going to suggest this,” Rígan muttered. “I know a guard you can contact for the inside job. Nial Rourke. He gave us the letter to come here.”

Lochlin bristled. “I’d left that for Lieutenant Commander Mahone.”

“It sounds like the Exiles took her, Commander,” Lou said.

Lochlin swore. “If Mahone trusts this Nial Rourke, I suppose I will, too.”

“Why did she entrust the letter to him?” Cianán asked.

“Nial and I have history,” Rígan said.

My vision tunneled enough to make my palms sweaty.

“I see,” Cianán said. “And that’s enough reason?”

“I trust him for this. Beyond our . . . time together.” She assessed me before turning away. Did she see how I’d tensed? I hoped not. She would think I was jealous.

And damn it if she wouldn’t have been right.

“He’s a good guard,” Maya said. “And a shit actor. We would’ve known if he was shady.”

“A very shit actor,” Lou mumbled.

I let the jealousy fall to the wayside. “If they trust him for this, it’s good enough for me.” Cianán looked about ready to protest, but I cut him off. “Any suggestions for the intermediary?”

Rígan and Brí exchanged a silent conversation involving different levels of frowns.

“Might as well tell him,” Maya said.

Rígan sighed. “The farmer who helped the four of you escape? He found us before we left for the Grove.” I shifted on the log. I didn’t like where this was going. “He wants to help fight. To do something, at least. I can’t blame him for it.”

Nor could I, but it didn’t mean I had to condone it. He had to be in his sixties or seventies. How could I ask him to risk his life?

“He would be inconspicuous,” Lochlin mused. “He could go up to the gate without much fuss, even if he’s turned away. Nial should work the gate often enough; it would be a simple handoff.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Brí said, despite the still-present frown.

I dug my nails into my palms. I searched for alternatives, but came up short. Logically, it was the best choice.

Liam leaned into me, whispering, “He did basically volunteer.”

His words and kind blue eyes made me falter in my reluctance. He was close to sixty, and he’d likely serve me into his seventies no problem. Same with Lochlin. And farmers were strong by trade; I was sure he could do what he had to to survive.

I still hated it.

“Alright,” I said, forcing the word out and hating myself for it. “Lochlin, you’ll make preparations. Have things ready to implement within two days.” I turned to the team. “Tell us everything about Tírdorcha.”

Brí launched into the story, the others adding details as needed. Bryn stared at her feet when Brí explained how Bryn had shot an intruding Exile not once, but twice.

My heart went out to her. Though I tried avoiding it, I had taken a life early in the Exile days. The nightmares were rarer now, but the pain, the invisible scar, would always linger.

“You did what you had to,” I said.

“It was necessary.” Her voice was hollow. Flat. Rígan scooted closer to her.

“There’s more,” Brí said. “Balor is lying in wait.”