Electra Rose
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Swordpoint Diplomacy ch 42
🕑 Added 2024-01-29 03:00:02 +0000 UTCCelestin followed close to her heels. She knew him well enough to feel that something was charged in the air.
It made her defensive. Rose had to work not to push her shoulders and chin up as she strode to her destination, aware of subtle stares and hasty bows in her wake. She was all but a Queen. She didn’t need to be told that she was too soft or that her judgment was questionable.
Every footstep at her heels felt like a condemnation of the series of mistakes that had led her to this point.
They’d all made sense in context. She was doing the right thing. When her letters reached Aunt Aime, Cousin Aiden, and Etienne, they would all mitigate harm until it was politically possible to fully withdraw.
She wanted them with her. Rose pressed her teeth together against the urge to scream. They had never been a particularly close family, but they were family. They should be together to deal with this. And they would, as soon as possible, Rose promised herself. She threw open the tent flap.
Sunlight fell in a beam on Castellan LaGown’s face, as if she was the subject of a painting. Her expression went from hard to neutral fast enough that Rose barely caught the calculation. If the moment was a painting, Rose decided, the title would be something like ‘JUDGMENT IS UPON US’.
It didn’t matter. When Celestin entered behind her, she didn’t wait for anyone to react. “We’ve had a change in plans,” she said, brisk. Rose gestured forward. “Release them, please, General.”
LaGown might have been contemplating violence. It was difficult to tell from her face. Rose set her feet apart and watched the other woman, fed up and nearly ready for a fight.
Rage and confusion fought on Willame’s ruddy face as she spoke. He jerked away from Celestin on impulse and stared at her, eyes narrowed. By contrast, the elderly Chamberlain was utterly unreadable. He was understandably the first person that Celestin approached.
“Thank you,” he said, and shook his wrists once before standing with them tucked neatly behind his back.
“You’re welcome, Ser Grant,” said Celestin, who apparently had a broader social circle than Rose would have guessed. “Castellan LaGown, by your leave.”
Incredibly, the woman let her hackles down. She watched Celestin come near and let him free her without so much as a hard look.
Well, good.
Rose cleared her throat. “The situation is thus,” she said. Everyone’s attention went to her except Celestin. “The King is dead. I am Queen Presumptive. I shall return to the Capital post-haste for coronation. You are formally invited to return with me.”
“Formally invited,” Willame repeated.
Castellan LaGown shot him a quelling look. She twitched her nose at Rose as if in reflex to a bad smell. “Might we decline?” she asked in a neutral tone.
Rose didn’t let her expression change. “You three would accompany myself and my squire,” she said. “You won’t be in chains, if that’s your question.”
There was a long, confused pause. Rose sympathized, but not enough to offer much explanation. “I admit I have no alternate plan for your accommodation,” she said. “Leaving you under the care of anyone at this camp feels unwise and below your station.”
In essence, get accustomed to it.
Chamberlain Grant rallied first. “Very well, your royal highness,” he said, as if he’d met her at court instead of in a tent. “We would be honored to attend your coronation.”
“I would be delighted,” said LaGown, who definitely wanted Rose dead.
Willame said nothing. Rose could respect that. She inclined her head at all of them. “We can leave within the hour. Celestin will take you to get travel gear. Your things will be returned and anything essential provided.”
“As you say.”
Rose didn’t try to divine Celestin’s opinion from his tone. She nodded and turned on her heel.
Her internal monologue was a list of things to do, absolute priorities. She had to find Avoie immediately and tell him to prepare. She needed mounts for all of them. That was easily done by order. She gave instructions to the first soldiers she encountered and then strode back to her tent.
All the horses would be fitted with her personal heraldry. No one would dare attempt to delay her. Unless they were part of a conspiracy to kill her, of course, in which case she would kill them faster. Rose stripped off her more courtly outerwear and changed into riding gear with movements so brusque they bordered on angry. She felt defiant.
Marcel, Kian, and Vivian were traveling in haste and secrecy with no heraldry. But they were also going significantly further than she was. The capital was only two days away.
There would be no secrecy for this. It would be safer, but this was her country. Rose wouldn’t cower. She grabbed her distinctive plumed helmet, the twin to Etienne’s dozens of miles away by now in enemy territory. The shine was a taunt. Rose held it under her arm as she left the tent.
She felt the prick of subtle stares as she moved. Rose wore her defiance openly, letting her lips curl in a smile and her shoulders fall back. Let them look. Of course they were interested. She was going to change their lives, send them all home to their families and end this idiocy. They didn’t know that yet and the anticipation was hot and heavy in the air to see what kind of queen she would be.
Avoie fell in at her side, breathing a little heavily. “Good afternoon,” she greeted him. “Are you prepared?”
He swallowed as he nodded, clearly trying to catch his breath. “Your horse is saddled, and I confirmed the luggage is as you requested.”
“Thank you, Avoie.” He jogged to keep at her heels. Rose subtly slowed her walk to accomodate him. “We will be traveling with my guests,” she let him know, because it seemed unfair to give him no warning. “Be on your best behavior, if you please.”
She turned a corner and spotted five horses, saddled with royal livery. The golden fox snarled into a red sun on all of their flanks. She went immediately to her horse and nearly got up before she realized that Avoie was trying to help her. He beamed when she took his assistance and then scrambled onto his own horse.
Rose had an incredible vantage point to see the look of revulsion on Willame’s face when he turned the corner at Celestin’s heel and spotted the horses they would be riding. She huffed out a laugh, but it was before they were close enough to hear. She would be disgusted in his place as well, but what other livery would her escorts have? It was ridiculous to complain.
“Thank you for the loan,” Castellan LaGown said. Her expression was pinched. “It’s a very kind gesture.” She swung herself onto the horse she apparently liked. Celestin moved to help the Chamberlain mount up without being asked.
There was a pregnant pause where she looked calmly down at Willame and he fought back his pride.
‘He has a temper,’ Rose noted. ‘If I could see LaGown’s face, I wager that she’s giving him a silent order.’ She kept any amusement off of her face. ‘I freed him from chains an hour ago, gave him a horse, and he’s unhappy to take it.’
Of course he was. This was the end of any honorable resistance. If he was to fight her after she returned his weaponry and gave him a horse, it would be a cowardly backstabbing, never mind that he had never wanted to be there. Perhaps he might run away, but likely not. He was as trapped by social convention now as he had been in irons. They’d all accepted her offer. Well. Willame himself had been silent, but his social superiors hadn’t. He was attending her coronation whether he liked it or not.
It was petty to get some amusement from his obvious unhappiness, but Rose was short on amusement in the days since she’d murdered the king. She took what she got.
“Thank you,” he said. He got on his horse, sullen at the loss.
They left camp.
