Winter Queen by Amber Argyle
She walked past shuttered windows and wondered where the Tyran men were. How closely they were watching for her? She saw movement to the side and spun around, but she saw nothing unusual. For a moment, she stood frozen. Then, remembering Rone’s warning, she steadied herself, trying to keep her gait steady but purposeful, her traitorous brown eyes fastened to the ground.
Something darted between the houses again. Ilyenna focused and this time saw Jablana peeking around a corner, desperately motioning her forward. Thank the Balance, Ilyenna thought.
A hand came down on her shoulder. “Are you all right?” a woman asked.
Ilyenna jumped. Her heart pounding in her throat, she forced herself to calm down. “I’m fine.”
She pulled away and followed Jablana between the houses. Coming onto the uneven street, she saw nothing. She started toward the center again, her gaze searching for the sudden movement of a fairy.
But as she turned to look back, something caught her eye. A glimpse of a man behind her. She quickly looked away. He might just be a Riesen clanman, out on business. She glared at the ground. She’d drawn unnecessary attention to herself by looking for fairies. Trying to keep her movements inconspicuous, Ilyenna followed Jablana between another set of houses. Just before she rounded the corner, she looked back just in time to see the man turning after her.
He was following her.
Forgetting Rone’s warning, she rushed forward, ignoring anyone who called a greeting and desperately trying to keep from running full out. Jablana motioned for her between another set of houses, but that would bring her closer to the man following her, the man Jablana obviously couldn’t see.
Ilyenna darted across the street and between another set of houses. She turned back to see if the man was still following her. She was so busy looking over her shoulder that she ran straight into someone. Sidestepping the clanmen, she mumbled an apology and kept moving.
But the man’s hand shot out, gripping her arm. In surprise, she glanced at him. His eyes widened with both shock and pleasure. Ilyenna’s eyes darted to his clan belt.
A Tyran.
She snatched her knife and thrust it forward. The man twisted to the side. Her knife missed his guts and sliced his arm. He cursed and jumped back, grabbing for his axe. He swung it, the flat side aimed at her. She tried to drop, but he adjusted his swing and caught her on the side of her head. Light was extinguished to blackness before returning in maddening sparks that melted into colors and shapes. There was pain, but it was at an arm’s length. Ilyenna struggled to make her mind work. Her head felt as heavy as a river stone. Somehow, she managed to open her eyes.
The blurry Tyran stood above her, satisfaction on his face. “Hello, little clan mistress.”
Suddenly, hands appeared. One snatched the Tyran’s jaw; another jerked a knife through his throat. The Tyran panicked, trying to grip his axe, but then his face relaxed and he sagged. Ilyenna made out the hazy shape of a man as he caught the dead Tyran under his arms and dragged him into a barn. The man rushed back to her, his bloody hands hauling her up. She struggled, trying to pull away from him.
“Why were you running? I told you not to run.”
She knew that voice. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Rone had been following her, making sure she was all right. Like an idiot, she’d tried to escape him and had run right into a Tyran. But though her thoughts had grown a great deal clearer, her body didn’t seem to be working right. Her feet were sluggish and incredibly heavy. Rone half supported, half dragged her toward the clan house.
A man leaning against a house jumped to his feet at the sight of them. Rone hefted his axe, his face cold as ice. Indecision overwhelmed the Tyran’s face before he took off at a run. Abandoning all pretenses, Rone scooped her into his arms and ran toward the kitchen door. He tried the handle. It was barred. He kicked it repeatedly. “I have need of a healer,” he shouted.
Moments stretched on as they waited. Finally, a disheveled-looking tiam opened the door. Rone shoved past her, kicking the door shut with his heel. “Bar it!” he shouted.
As the tiam hurried to obey, a middle-aged woman appeared, tugging on her overdress. Ilyenna recognized her—the Riesen clan mistress. The older woman froze, her face veiled with shock at the sight of Ilyenna. “Bar all the doors,” she said to the tiam, “and get Gen!” Her quick eyes assessed Ilyenna, stopping where the side of the axe had met her head. She directed Rone to lay her on the table. “I’ll take her. You make sure no one gets through the front door.”
Adusting the shield on his arm, Rone cast Ilyenna a worried glance before darting from the room.
“Curse these men and their politics!” the clan mistress muttered as she searched her shelves. “Why can’t we live in peace without these idiotic games?” She dampened a rag with a tincture and pressed it to Ilyenna’s forehead.
Ilyenna sucked air through her teeth as the alcohol stung her skin.
“I’m Ressa, in case you’ve forgotten. I remember you, though.” She poured spirits into a wooden mug, then helped Ilyenna sit up and drink. Ilyenna’s eyes watered at the strength of the liquid. She hesitated to take another swallow, but the woman tipped up the mug. “You’ll be feeling a whole lot better in a few minutes.”
The spirits burned like fire. She coughed. Ressa waited until the fit subsided before pouring more down Ilyenna’s throat. The herbs inside were strong as well. Her belly warmed.
Her hands as quick as her eyes, Ressa wiped Ilyenna’s wound and smeared her head with a familiar-smelling salve before pressing a damp, cool cloth over it.
Someone pounded so hard on the door to the great hall that Ilyenna wondered if it would vibrate off its hinges. Ressa paused, anxiety writing deep lines in her face. There were shuffling footsteps, and then the door creaked open.
Ilyenna desperately wanted to see what was going on. But then she heard his voice and instantly changed her mind. She cringed.
“Gen, one of my men saw my tiams,” Darrien growled. “I want them turned over. Now.”
There was a long pause before Gen answered, “They’re in my clanhouse. That makes them a Riesen concern now.”
Darrien swore. “You’ve no right to interfere with my tiams! The law demands that you hand them over!”
“I will,” Gen said calmly, “if the Council orders me to do so. Until then, your rudeness offends both me and my clan. Get out of my lands.”
“You dare throw me out? You dare insult my clan?” Darrien roared.
Ilyenna heard slow steps and imagined Gen moving forward. His voice dropped so low she could barely make out his words. “I know exactly how many clanmen you have in my lands. I have twenty times that, all of them ready to kill any Tyran in sight at the sound of the warning bell.” Gen chuckled. “You didn’t think I’d trust you after what you’ve done? No, my clan is fully prepared for war. And as stretched as the Tyrans are, you know as well as I that we’d win. Get out. We’ll see who the Council sides with.”
Darrien started to sputter a reply, but Ilyenna heard the door shut in his face. Gen spoke again. “Arm our clanmen and escort the Tyrans to the border. I want spies watching their every move. Bring in those foolish enough to stay on the outlying farms, by force if you have to. Every clanman is to be ready for war.” Footsteps confirmed that the clan chief’s orders were being obeyed.
Ressa sighed in relief. “Well, I’m glad he finally had cause to kick them out. Gen’s been sleeping with his axe for a week. I’m always afraid I’ll roll into it. Anything else hurt?”
Ilyenna pointed to her ankle. Ressa eased the boot from the foot, her lips pressed in a disapproving line. She retrieved a salve, coated Ilyenna’s ankle with it, and wrapped the ankle in clean cloths. Then Ressa helped her sit on a chair.
Ilyenna’s head still hurt something awful, and the room spun. She gripped the table to keep from swaying in her seat. Gen came into the room and set his shield on a chair. He knelt next to her and studied her head wound. “Ressa?”
&nbs
With that, she handed Ilyenna a piece of buttered rye bread and a cup of willow bark tea that was half milk with a generous dash of whiskey. Ilyenna began eating carefully, but hungrily.
Rone came in, an anxious look on his face. “You all right?”
Not daring to nod, Ilyenna smiled softly. “We made it.”
He didn’t return her smile.
“What happened?” Gen asked.
As Rone related their story, leaving out the amorous parts, Gen’s face flooded with rage. “The Council will have Undon’s clan for this!” he roared just as Ilyenna polished off her second cup of tea. The whiskey was working wonders, and her aching head was nearly a distant memory.
“And you just had to kill a Tyran right in the middle of Reisenholm, did you?” Gen fumed at Rone.
Rone’s eyes flicked toward Ilyenna. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“Well, I suppose it couldn’t. I’ll send someone to deal with it. Anything else?”
Rone shook his head. “That’s all.”
“Rone, pick that girl up and follow me to my daughter’s old room,” Ressa ordered.
Ilyenna snuggled into Rone’s embrace, her arms around his neck. He smelled so wonderful.
“Lay her down there,” Ressa said as she pointed to a door.
He opened the door to the room and placed her on the bed, but she didn’t release him. “You know,” she teased, “you could stay with me.”
He gently pried her arms from around his neck. “You’re drunk, Ilyenna.”
She snorted. “And what do you care? I wasn’t drunk the other night.”
Pain crossed his face, pain that redoubled inside her.
“Get out,” she said flatly. Rolling away from him, she covered her head with the blankets. “You can join the dead and I won’t care.”
After a few moments she heard the door shut, and then she was asleep.
“Up, child. You’ll be needing some more medicine.”
Ilyenna forced her eyelids open. She squinted at the light, her eyes smarting. She tried to roll over, but pain shot through her skull. “Oh,” she moaned.
Ressa plopped down on the side of the bed. “You’ll be wanting to drink two mugs of this tea and eat your breakfast. I’ll tend to your head.”
Ilyenna squinted up at her, her mind hazily trying to put yesterday’s events in order. “Can I have more whiskey?”
The clan mistress chuckled. “Whiskey’s powerful medicine. But a little willow bark will work wonders.”
“Darrien?” Ilyenna said hesitantly.
“Gone, along with the other Tyrans. Gen’s making sure they don’t double back.” She filled the mug half full of tea and topped it with cream. “This will settle your stomach.”
Ilyenna took the drink gratefully. Ressa had sweetened it with sugar and powdered raspberries to mask the bitter willow bark. She drank more as Ressa pulled the cloth away from her wound. Determined to be a good patient, Ilyenna stayed still, refusing to flinch while Ressa wiped off the excess ointment with the back of the cloth.
“I’m having my tiams bring up the bath. I’ll be helping you scrub yourself and then we’ll redress this, hmm?”
Ilyenna had a hazy recollection of Rone bringing her to bed earlier, and judging by the pit in her stomach, she’d said something bad. She took a bite of a biscuit and froze as the memory worked free. “By the Balance,” she breathed.
Ressa leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”
Ilyenna turned her wide eyes to the woman. “Where’s Rone?”
She patted Ilyenna’s arm consolingly. “He went with Gen.”
Ilyenna wasn’t sure how her heart could keep beating through the pain. “No.”
Ressa smiled understandingly. “The drink often loosens our tongues.”
“He told you what I said?”
The clan mistress shook her head. “No, but I’ve five children. It wasn’t hard to guess that you two had a fight.”
“How could you let him go? He needed rest and food and . . .”
Ressa cocked an eyebrow. “It’s best that men keep busy when they’ve a lot to think on. And Rone had many things on his mind. He wanted to speak with my husband about a good deal of them. Rone is a strong man. He’s fared better than you, but of course men are more used to traipsing over half the clan lands. I sent him with enough food to put the meat back on his bones. Don’t you worry.”
Ilyenna’s hands fell helplessly to her sides. “I said things to him. Awful things.”
Ressa lifted the biscuit and raised a warning eyebrow. “No more talking unless you’re eating.”
Ilyenna took a grudging bite.
Ressa gave a satisfied little nod. “Well, there are two weeks before the Council meets. That should be plenty of time to make it right.” She stood and headed for the door.“Two weeks?” Ilyenna managed around her mouthful of biscuit. “I thought it was three.”
“They moved it up in order to deal with the situation with Undon.”
Ilyenna began counting the nights since she’d escaped with Rone and realized it had been almost a week. “Where is it this time?”
“We’ll be leaving for Cardell in nine days,” Ressa said from the doorway.
“Cardell,” Ilyenna repeated. Just below the Riesen. Lost in thought, she started when she reached for another biscuit only to realize she’d eaten them all.
Two women came in, bearing a beaten copper tub between them. It was as high as Ilyenna’s thighs and probably twice as long. More tiams appeared—two young boys carrying a steaming pot between them. The women and boys kept reappearing until the tub was filled with hot water.
As soon as they shut the door behind them, Ilyenna sank into the water up to her chin and let the heat draw the soreness from her muscles. Ressa came in shortly thereafter and washed her hair, carefully avoiding her swollen bruise. Then the older woman worked over Ilyenna’s back with a woven horsehair rag. Her skin was still peeling from the lye-soaked strap.
When every inch of her was scrubbed white and the water had lost its heat, Ressa produced a nearly new underdress and overdress. “I couldn’t scrub all the stains out of your old one, and really, the thing was hardly worth saving. I made it into rags. This belonged to one of my daughters, Varris. She’s around the same size.”
Ilyenna sighed. Material was expensive, but the time it took to sew each miniscule stitch was just as costly. “I haven’t the money to pay for it.”
Ressa waved her protest away. “Bah. Nothing lost. Varris just married the richest rye farmer in the Riesen. And she has two tiams for a month because they got drunk and broke a couple barrels of her husband’s whiskey.”
Ressa helped Ilyenna out of the tub and started scrubbing her dry. She paused when she noticed Ilyenna’s missing toes. “What happened to your feet?”
“Frostbite,” she replied softly.
Ressa fingered the stumps. “The healer did good work.”
Ilyenna bit the inside of her cheek. Having her toes cut off hadn’t been pleasant. Waking up from her fevered dreams to discover her mother was dead had been much worse.
Ressa studied Ilyenna’s naked body, frowning. She sighed and tugged the underdress over Ilyenna’s head. Then she braided Ilyenna’s hair and rubbed more ointment into her wound.
“There now. Why don’t you rest, hmm? When you’re ready, come down and I’ll feed you a hearty meal.”
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Ilyenna replied, but the older clan mistress was already out the door. Ilyenna lay back on the bed and suddenly couldn’t keep her eyes open. “Ressa must have put something in that tea,” she mumbled just before she fell asleep.
It was early in the morning. Ilyenna stood at the clan-house doors, watching and waiting. Ressa had indeed fed her, and fed her, and fed her again, until Ilyenna was sure she’d burst. But she couldn’t seem to get enough food, and if she wen
The village was in a similar uproar. The Riesen grew rye by the bushel and made rye whiskey by the barrel. They also raised cattle and grew hay. At the spring feast, they’d trade the excess for things like Tyran flour, baskets, and beer; Bassen linen, underdresses, dye, rope, and paper; and Shyle sheep, wool, yarn, blankets, felt, vellum, and overdresses. The other clans would also trade for goods not available in their own lands. There were three feasts a year—spring, high summer, and autumn.
At each feast, the clan chiefs and clan mistresses would meet together as the High Council. They dictated clan law and settled disputes between clans. This year Ilyenna would’ve sat as one of them. But now, as a tiam, she wouldn’t have a place. In fact, she could lose her title altogether. It was infuriating. And she missed Rone. She wanted to face him and apologize, and so she waited, her eyes straining for any glimpse of riders.
Ressa bustled behind her, shooing Ilyenna out the door and closing it after her. “Watching for him won’t make him appear any sooner,” she chided as she took Ilyenna’s arm and steered her toward one of the wagons. “Come, child. He’ll catch up.”
Ilyenna let herself be led to the wagon, where three Riesen men waited on horseback. Her own personal guard. They weren’t the only men who had come back. Gen had ordered them to return to guard either the village or the wagons. “How long will our journey take?” Ilyenna asked.
Ressa pulled her wild hair out of her eyes. “I already told you, child, we’ll be there in three days.”