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Chapter 2 ~ The Exile Threat

Rígan

“Rise,” Dàibhid said, and I did my best to breathe normally. As expected, his voice had deepened since I’d last heard him speak, though it wasn’t what I would call deep. Still, it was calming. Smooth. Good for a leader.

I held my chin high, determined to meet his eyes. His forest green ones locked on to mine, and I stayed still despite my whirling thoughts. Was I familiar to him? Did I stir up any old memories of trees and balls and dancing? My focus darted to his hair, and my fingers twitched. The chestnut strands looked as soft as they had when we were children. Then I took note of his freckles. That small, light smattering that brushed over the bridge of his nose. He used to tease that the freckles on my cheeks complemented his, like puzzle pieces.

He’d also grown, squarely taller than me now, but not by more than a few inches. He wasn’t broad, but he was decently well-built, with shoulders probably wider than my own, but where mine were slightly wider than my hips, his were on the same plane. And he was subtly toned, from what I could see through the tunic and trousers that fit him marvelously.

Basically, he was exactly my type.

I ground my jaw. Of course Dàibhid had grown into an attractive man.

I wanted to slap myself. Three years I’d been in Cunlaran, one in Ardanna, and I’d avoided coming into contact with him that entire time. And now, instead of freaking out, my first thought was he’s attractive .

I couldn’t think about that. He might have been attractive, but it was a gamble being in the same room as him. That’s what I needed to focus on.

Except he was still looking at me. My pulse crashed wildly, urging me to leave.

But, as it turned out, I did want to hear what he had to say, my curiosity too piqued to walk away. And it was doubtful he was doing anything more than taking note of me the way I had him. People often took note of me, and I generally relished in it. Perhaps I was Dàibhid’s type, too.

Damn it.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. There wasn’t a sliver of indication he’d recognized me. I almost grinned as though I’d gotten away with something wicked.

Though, I supposed I had. When your childhood-ex-best-friend-turned-king-of-your-chosen-home didn’t notice who you were, it was a good thing. I couldn’t have him recognize me and alert my parents of where I was or what I was doing. My whole life would crash down around me, and I’d be dragged back to a life of well-meaning condescension and the expectation to sit and do nothing of any use, at least not in the way I’d feel useful. And I couldn’t very well have that happen. Every part of my clothing, from my boots to my leggings to my vest, became too tight, unbearably itchy, as I imagined Dàibhid realizing who he had in his castle.

Nonsense. If I acted like I belonged, like I’d never met him before, he’d have no cause to question me. He’d known me as Princess Nina, not the sellsword Morrígan. At least, he’d known me as Nina by the end of our friendship. Mostly, I’d been nameless except for the nickname he gave me at the second Forest Ball we attended together. But we’d parted—badly—with the knowledge of who the other was.

At least he’d helped me learn something important—anonymity was far superior to being treated as too young, too fragile, too innocent.

Besides, it had been eight years since we’d last seen each other. He’d been thirteen, for gods’ sake, and I’d been eleven. A lot happened between young adolescence and adulthood. Anyone who’d barely known me as a child would be hard-pressed to recognize me now.

And really, we’d only ever spoken during the Forest Balls. Would he even remember Nina enough to notice that she was me?

Dàibhid motioned to the seats around the table, bringing me back to the war room and the task at hand. We each sat, Lou across from me and Maya, with Dàibhid taking his spot at the head. A man with close-cropped dark brown hair sat to Dàibhid’s right, his pale, rough face all sharp angles, his shoulders wide-set. Intimidating. He appeared to be close to forty. No one else remained in the room.

Dàibhid turned to Lou first, offering a smile. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle adorably.

Stop it, Rígan.

“You must be Lou,” Dàibhid said. “My sister has told me much about you.”

“I hope good things, Your Majesty.”

Dàibhid laughed, a genuine sound. It sparked an old comfort that I quickly shut down. “Brí has only ever sung your praises. It’s a shame she’s still at the Stone Fortress; she would have liked to see you.” He shifted his attention to the other side of the table. “These must be your companions.”

Maya tipped her head. “Maya Ekundayo, Your Majesty.”

Dàibhid returned the gesture before turning to me. “Which means you must be Morrígan Feighlí.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Though I prefer Rígan.”

“Rígan,” he echoed. I shivered, shoving down the unwelcome thrill of hearing my chosen name from his mouth.

Nina had been a fine enough name, pretty even, but gods, it meant “little.” And my mother had chosen it because I’d been a tiny thing at birth. I now stood taller than most of my sisters, but my mother always viewed me as the smallest regardless, always wanted her precious baby safe. Always fussed, always coddled, encouraging some of my siblings to do the same.

I’d constantly felt a disconnect from the name. The name Morrígan had instantly felt like mine, and I’d never once felt a disconnect with it, especially in Cunlaran, where no one knew me as anything else. I needed people to see me , not a youngest princess, but a strong fighter with a strong name.

Dàibhid motioned to his companion. “This is Cianán Achtáil, my advisor and trusted friend.”

Cianán’s light blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight, gentler than I expected for one with such hard features.

He caught my scrutinizing gaze. I eased up. “Apologies, my lord.”

He chuckled. “None needed. A good sellsword is skeptical of everything. Your reaction is a point in your favor, not against.” His voice was deep. Commanding. “And no title—I’m no lord. Just Cianán.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted.” Some of Dàibhid’s ease fell away as he laced his fingers together atop the worn table. “The reason I asked you here.”

Despite my earlier concerns, I couldn’t look away from the king now, not as curiosity warred with unease. He seemed calm, but something else, something unsettled, lurked under the surface.

“I need you to know, first and foremost, that this was a summons to hear my plan,” Dàibhid said. “It was not a summons to agree to participate in it. If, by the end of this meeting, you wish to walk away, you may. I won’t hold it against you. I will ask that you keep it to yourselves, though. If all goes well, what we’re doing here will give me an advantage I don’t want to lose. I need you to swear you won’t tell anyone about this.”

As we each swore an oath, a palpable shift ran through the room. Whether we took the job or not, we would at least learn what he needed. What was going on. That was no small matter.

“You three know firsthand what the Exiles and their rebel allies have done around the city,” Dàibhid said.

We nodded. Almost a year ago, we’d been hired by Ardanna’s city guard to patrol its southern gate. A few months ago, part of our job had become monitoring those coming into Ardanna under suspicion of being Exiles or rebels—who not only supported Balor and his Exiles, but committed crimes in Balor’s name—and following up on tips in the area. Some of the leads had resulted in arrested rebels, though we’d never personally encountered any Exiles. Not many people had; rebels seemed to outnumber Exiles, or at least made themselves more known. Still, the Exiles took responsibility for a lot of the shit that went on.

“I thank you for what you’ve done for us in the city guard,” Dàibhid said, a hand on his heart. “How well do you know Exile history?”

I knew it well from lessons as a child; Lou and Maya, I wasn’t so sure.

“Only bits and pieces,” Lou said.

Dàibhid nodded. “Before my great-grandmother became queen, the public assumed she’d marry the son of Tàlev’s Keep’s lord, though she hadn’t even met him, and the royal family had never declared their intentions to pursue that avenue. The Keep was keen on the idea, though, claiming it would present a strong front for the country.”

Given the Keep was historically a haven for the old warrior customs, priding decisive action over peaceful diplomacy, I wasn’t surprised.

“But then my great-grandmother met a farmer outside the city,” he continued. “They fell in love, and he became her prince, then her king. Most of the people were delighted, seeing it as a sign of a prosperous reign the likes Danna had inspired. But the lord of the Keep saw it as a slight against him and his son.

“They staged an attempted coup with allies they gathered from within the Keep and other warrior families around the country. When it failed, my great-grandparents banished them to the prison isle of Doaríc.

“When the banished couldn’t get help from Fenwald to escape the transport ship and take Cunlaran, they took control over Doaríc from the guards and shut everyone out, effectively creating their own pseudo-nation. But now, Balor has taken power and made his move to steal the throne he believes was owed to his grandfather.”

I frowned. The sense of entitlements long past did strange things to people.

Dàibhid glanced at pieces of paper in front of him. When he caught me looking, he said, “Letters, demands, Balor’s sent me.”

I crossed my arms to keep from reading them myself. Sense of entitlement, indeed.

“Balor gained support from his own people, who started calling themselves Exiles, and proceeded to gather support here,” Dàibhid said. “And the violence is only growing. More minor assaults, more destruction of property, more elaborate thefts. Rumors are spreading that there are more Exiles here than we realize, that they’re mobilizing against me. They’re trying to convince the people of this country that we can’t defend ourselves against them. In short, they’re causing widespread panic.” Dàibhid’s fingers curled in on themselves, crinkling the paper underneath. The move was subtle, but it said enough. He was worried.

The people of Ardanna may have been relatively at ease, but I couldn’t deny that nervous chatter was overtaking shops and streets. The barracks and town square were only the tip.

Cianán picked up the story. “Sympathy to the Exile cause seems to be rising in western parts of the country, towns where warrior families still thrive. But the Exiles have spread Balor’s name far beyond the walls of this city and those in the west.”

“They claim he’s ruthless, cunning, and above all, determined. Everything the Exiles pride in a leader.” Dàibhid paused. “Everything my opponents would rather see in a king.” He said it softly. Like he believed they were right to think him weak.

“From what I’ve gathered, you’re pretty determined yourself, Your Majesty,” Lou said, echoing my thoughts. Dàibhid’s determination for peace above fighting was well-known, as was his devotion to helping those in need. I admired both things about him. How people could think otherwise fanned a small flame of anger in me.

Dàibhid offered my friend a polite smile. The tightness to it, the way it didn’t reach his eyes, made it seem forced. “Even so, the attacks are getting worse. And with how spread out the rebels and Exiles are, it would be unwise to attack back. We need to rout them out, rout Balor out, if we have any hope of avoiding deaths. More deaths.”

I’d been hung up on the concept of avoiding death—did he truly think that was possible given the circumstances, regardless of his penchant for peace?—but the correction caught me off guard. “More deaths?”

I could have sworn his eyes turned glassy as he took what could have been a centering breath. “You heard about the attacks outside the western gate.”

My shoulders tensed. The farms we’d discussed at the barracks. We’d seen the aftermath from afar when covering for western-gate guards—charred fields, decimated homes. Loss, everywhere. Unprecedented for an Exile attack. “Farms were attacked. Crops lost, animals killed and stolen.”

Dàibhid’s hands went back to the paper in front of him. “Seven farmers were also killed. Murdered.”

My ears rang as emptiness settled over me. We hadn’t known that part. “Fuck,” I swore, unable to help myself.

If Exiles were killing Cunlarans, this was much, much worse than we’d thought.

Blood drained from Lou’s face. “This is the first . . . ?”

“This is the first attack that claimed lives, yes,” Cianán answered. Dàibhid, on his part, seemed unable to respond.

“How dare they,” Maya said. I agreed, emptiness giving way to numbing anger. I itched to punch something. Preferably Balor. My jaw tightened, the joints close to cracking.

Would Gavin still agree the farmers had it coming if he knew seven of them were dead?

“They’ve hurt so many civilians, in so many ways,” Lou whispered.

“They have,” Dàibhid said. “It was too many when it was a single bruise, but now . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, strands sticking out at weird angles. He cleared his throat, though his voice remained strained. “I plan on telling the public soon, making it more broadly known. We needed things controlled first, to avoid panic. The rebels responsible have all been found and imprisoned.”

Good. That would certainly help with the public’s reaction.

“No Exiles were involved?” I asked.

His frown deepened. “We’re not certain.”

Cowardly bastards, hiding behind the rebels.

“The Exiles haven’t done or claimed this much damage before, even putting the murders aside,” Dàibhid said. “I’ve tried to gather what information I could, tried to get Balor to talk with me, tried to curb people from joining the Exiles, but I need more now. That’s where you come in. I need eyes and ears on the ground to gather information that could help me put a stop to Balor. The more information we have, the more we can use against him. If we know where Exiles are landing, we can create a blockade. If we know where they’re hiding, we can rout them out with as few lives risked as possible. If we know their next attacks, we can prevent them from happening in the first place. And if I find Balor’s weakness, the thing he will not sacrifice for, I should be able to convince him to come to the negotiating table.”

Working for the overall protection of the country? That was the sort of assignment I’d dreamed of when I’d first picked up a sword. Something big , where I was protecting as many people as I possibly could. And these people deserved protection, now more than ever.

But it was still an assignment for Dàibhid.

“Why us? Why not any of the soldiers at your disposal?” Maya kicked my calf, and my lips flattened at the contact, shutting me up. Looked like her skepticism was gone. My own was at war with my convictions and my desperation to help.

“This can’t be seen as an act of war,” Dàibhid said. “Should the Exiles learn I’m trying to find information on them, soldiers would make it more of an official declaration. And if I start sending soldiers on missions like this, their absence might be noticed and questioned. I can keep sellswords a secret, at least until that information is gathered.”

“If they find out and see it as a declaration of war, anyway?”

His next exhale was long. Shaky. “That’s something I’ll deal with if the time comes.”

It was logical. Perhaps shortsighted, depending on how vehemently he’d avoid risking more than a few sellswords. But still, I couldn’t refute him. I nodded somewhat stiffly, conceding. All the while the desperate part of me yearned to leave for the assignment right then and there.

“Again, you don’t need to do this if you don’t want to,” Dàibhid said, taking my nod for reluctance. Which, I supposed, it was. “Just say the word, and I’ll have someone escort you from the castle.”

Lou, Maya, and I glanced at each other. Lou and Maya were sitting forward, obviously willing to take on the assignment. They’d remind me this was the sort of work I’d always wanted. If it came to a vote, they’d outnumber me. And if both of them were doing it, I couldn’t back out without being questioned. They couldn’t know the true reason for my hesitancy, and I wouldn’t be able to come up with a convincing enough lie to back up a no. My chest panged, and I resisted the urge to rub the spot.

I glanced sidelong at the king. So far, he hadn’t paid me any lingering attention after that initial moment, given no indication he might know me. Perhaps he never would.

Dàibhid tapped the table. “I have a council meeting to attend. It’s not a long one. Why don’t I leave you here, let you decide, and you can give me your decision when I return?”

“Of course,” Lou answered for us.

Once alone, Maya twisted to face me. “This is the sort of behavior a king should have. The sort of caring he should exude. I’d be fine working for him. And with what’s happened, I don’t think I can’t work for him.” Her fist tightened, but she quickly loosened it, relaxing her posture. Trying to bring the mood up. “I love Ardanna, but a change of scenery wouldn’t be bad. And . . . ?” She let the word dangle.

I stifled a sigh, finishing the thought. “It’s a dream assignment.”

“It’s a dream assignment. We could help so many people. You could help so many people. Since that’s an obsession of yours.”

“Obsession is a little strong.”

“It’s really not,” Lou said. “You’re very protective. You can get worked up about it.”

“We shouldn’t be surprised,” Maya said. “She can be a little . . .”

I poked her arm. “You really want to finish that sentence?”

“I do, just hold on.” She held up a hand, and I shook with silent laughter. She snapped her fingers. “Overzealous.”

“Hey!”

“I was thinking brash,” Lou added in a whisper so loud the other side of the castle could have heard it.

“I prefer strong-willed,” I said, feigning haughtiness.

Maya snickered. “Sure.” She put her arm around me. “But we love you, anyway.”

I laughed as though offended. “Anyway?”

“No matter what,” Lou said. I stuck my tongue out at both of them while warmth spread to each limb.

I, however, was still on the fence about the situation at hand.

“Could we really leave our guard duties?” I asked casually, like it was a question of clarification and not a last-ditch attempt by my very rational worries to get out of this. “They need all the people they can get at the gates.”

“It’s easy enough to fill the gaps,” Maya said. “And King Dàibhid knows we’re on gate duty. He wouldn’t take us out of rotation without a replacement plan.”

She had me there. And the money was bound to be good on a job like this. Not that I considered that much—all I wanted was a good wage that let me live comfortably and buy myself a few indulgences—but Lou took jobs for themself as well as their grandmother, to whom they sent money regularly. Maya was saving to convince her brother that he and his son should join her here, and proving to her brother that Dàibhid was better than Nibari’s emperor would do even more than money in convincing him.

After too long a silence, Lou spoke up. “You know, that loving you anyway thing includes if you don’t want to take this job. Do I think it’s in all our best interests? Definitely. But we respect you and your choices. You know that, right?”

That warmth spread once again, making its way to the backs of my eyes. “I know.” Lou stared at me, making sure I got the message. I rolled my eyes at the unnecessary request for further confirmation, but a smile still rose to my lips. “I know .”

Maya squeezed my arm. “I don’t know why you’re hesitating, and I fully second Lou’s respect point, but whatever the reason for that hesitation? Remember that this is the sort of thing you’ve always wanted. It’s your dream. So why not give it a try?”

I took a deep, halting breath. Did I care more about protecting myself, avoiding an assignment from Dàibhid because I was worried he would recognize me? Or did I care more about helping innocents who had the misfortune of living in a capital that could come under siege at any moment? In a country that, though capable of going to war, shouldn’t have to live through one?

It wasn’t even a contest. It never had been.

And it wasn’t like I’d see Dàibhid much, anyway. We’d probably be gone for weeks, then give him a report and be on our way. I’d get the assignment of my dreams, protecting countless people and preventing senseless death, and Dàibhid would be none the wiser that his old friend had been anywhere near him.

Lou and Maya waited patiently for my answer, the last piece of the decision puzzle. I released the breath, smoother out than in, and found myself saying the word that sealed the deal.

“Alright.”