A Song for Orphans by Morgan Rice
She didn’t like the sense of being caught up in something bigger than herself. It was bad enough being the pawn of the Dowager in this, without the sense that some strange power was taking an interest in her affairs.
Even so, she made her way over to the remains of the raven, picking the tightly rolled message from the still stick of its leg. She waited until her fingers stopped shaking before she unrolled it. Once she’d spread out the small scrap of parchment, she started to read.
My dearest Sebastian, she read, and had to fight the urge to tear it up there and then, simply because of the claim it made on the man who should be her husband by now. Instead, she read on.
If you are reading this, know that I am safe, and that I love you. There are things that I must tell you, and no easy way to say them. I hope to be able to say most of them to you in person, if you follow.
For now, though, there is one thing that you must know: I am with child. Your child.
Angelica snorted at that. It was the same claim that any milkmaid might make when trying to trap one of her betters. It was a ploy as old as time, and it almost didn’t matter that it might prove to be true, or that Angelica had been planning something very similar when it came to Sebastian. What mattered was that Sophia was making a move in a game she probably didn’t even know she was playing. Well, it was a move that Angelica could counter. Had countered, the moment she shot this beast.
She kept reading anyway, because she wanted to be thorough.
I hope that news fills you with happiness, not hurt or fear. I know that it is news that would be better to hear face to face, but you deserve to know about your child even if you do not choose to follow. It is something that I dreamed of when we were together, and I have dreamed since. I believe our child will be something special, and will make you proud.
Angelica felt that Sophia was trying too hard there. It would have been better just to hint and leave it at that. All this nonsense about dreams just made her sound delusional, and Angelica doubted that even Sebastian would find that a desirable quality in a woman.
I hope that you will follow me. I want to be with you, and I hope that you want to be with me too, in spite of everything that has happened. I love you. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again. If you are going to follow me, you will find me in Ishjemme, in the court of Lars Skyddar. I’m told that there are docks to the east of Monthys, and I will head there soon to try to find a ship. I truly hope that you will come there, or follow me to Ishjemme, because it aches to be without you. I miss you more than anything, and I have a lot of things to tell you.
Angelica didn’t know what those things were, or even if they existed at all. If she were the one sending the letter, that was what she might have done: hint at things enough that even if Sebastian were undecided, he would make the journey just to find out the rest, then trust that once they were close, she could find a way to persuade him.
Was Sophia trying the same thing? She’d been cunning enough to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, so Angelica didn’t discount the possibility. Even so, there was a note here that made it sound as though these really were the desperate words of a jilted lover. Then again, maybe Sophia was simply that good at pretending.
“It doesn’t matter,” Angelica said. “This will be done soon.”
What did she feel at the prospect that Sophia was pregnant? Angelica cocked her head to one side as she examined that question. Anger, of course, at the prospect of it being true. Some contempt at the possibility it might simply be a manipulation. Was there any sympathy? Anything that might stop her from killing Sophia while she held Sebastian’s child inside her?
Angelica was a little surprised to find that she felt nothing at the prospect. Not sympathy, not disgust, not anger, just… nothing. It didn’t make a difference to her, except maybe in that it made the whole thing even more necessary. Sebastian was the kind of man who might find himself tied to a girl like this by some sense of duty.
He was also the kind of man who wouldn’t forgive himself if he learned of the death of his child. It would break something in him, and Angelica had no wish to have that happen. She wanted Sebastian as he was, vibrant and strong enough that they could have real power after their marriage.
That meant that he could never know about this. Any of this. He couldn’t know that Angelica was there. He couldn’t know that Sophia was going across the sea. He definitely couldn’t know about the possibility of her being pregnant. No, he needed to be kept safely in the dark, wandering around in Barriston, while Angelica dealt with the situation.
Very carefully, she tore the parchment into strips, then poured out a measure of black powder onto it, using the flint from one of the pistols against the metal of its barrel to provide a spark. It flared and caught, quickly consumed by the flames that licked at it.
If only Sophia were so easy to be rid of. Still, at least Angelica knew where she was going to be now, and a busy set of docks was a much easier place in which to get close to someone than an empty country estate. Angelica would kill her, no one would know how it had happened, and finally, finally, this would be over.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
From her perch atop the ship, Kate saw the advance of the New Army along the beach and knew that there would be no way to break through them to escape now. Lord Cranston’s men were trapped as surely as a poacher in steel jaws, unable to press forward or back, caught between two forces that could easily crush them.
And the worst part was that it was her fault. If she hadn’t killed the people she had, if Lord Cranston hadn’t taken her in when the church of the Masked Goddess wanted her dead, his company would probably never have been sent here. She had to fix this. She had to.
Could she summon mist, as she had on the shores near Ashton? Kate reached for that fragment of power, but the truth was that she had no idea how to use it consciously. Worse, things felt… different somehow here, as if that power were a distant thing, waiting for her at home. She could still feel the minds of those on the beach, but she wasn’t sure that she could do more than that.
“I have to,” Kate told herself. At the very least, she had to do something. So she tied the flag she’d seized around herself, checked that her sword was secure in its scabbard, and leapt.
She cut through the air, arcing clear of the ship as she dove, her arms extending above her head to break the impact of the water. Kate plunged into it, feeling the shock of the cold there, and the weight of the water as it dragged at her clothes, threatening to pull her down. She was just grateful that her mobile style of fighting meant she avoided heavy armor.
Kate hauled herself to the surface, then set off in strong strokes toward the shore. Behind her, Kate could see ships burning as the fires she’d set caught. It wasn’t many of the enemy ships, but it was something, at least. One was already burning from top to bottom, its sails seemingly made from the fire that consumed them as men threw themselves from the deck in an effort to find safety.
The current wouldn’t let her come out exactly where Lord Cranston’s men were. Instead, she found herself just a little way behind them, closer to the new group of attackers than to her own side. Kate drew herself up to her full height as the advancing group stared at her, obviously trying to decide which of them would kill her.
“I have their flag!” Kate yelled back to where Lord Cranston’s men were still fighting. “We can pull back!”
She saw the men fighting there, swords flashing, daggers and axes working in short arcs. The time for muskets was long done; now there was just the bloody, close in work of the melee, and the press of bodies on all sides, for them. She saw Lord Cranston, limping from a wound, slice a cut across a man’s throat, then gesture in her direction.
“Pull back!” he ordered, his voice carrying even above the screams and the sound of steel on steel. “Fight your way through!”
They came, but in that moment, Kate had other concerns. The enemies closer to her were leveling their weapons now, obviousl
So she did.
Kate had managed mind control with small groups back in Siobhan’s forest, but she had never tried it with so many people, or with so much at stake. Now, though, she knew that she had to try, because if she didn’t, they were all dead. She reached out, feeling for the minds of the enemy soldiers, identifying them and entering into them.
Then she clamped down like a torturer’s vise around a hand, pinning them in place, allowing no movement, allowing no thought.
The effort of it was immense. It felt like trying to crush the life from a bear while it fought, and for a moment, Kate simply wasn’t sure that she would have the strength. She could feel the wetness of blood on her lip as her nose bled with the strain of it, her head feeling as though it might explode with the effort of what she was trying to do. She held out a hand, willing her power to be enough.
The advancing company of the New Army’s men froze in place like statues, their weapons still raised to fire. Kate knew that they weren’t statues, though. They were simply men who couldn’t summon enough thoughts to make even the small decision to pull a trigger. She held them like that, smothering their thoughts, holding them in place, while around her, Lord Cranston’s men surged past.
They slammed into the immobile soldiers like a scythe, cutting men down left and right, punching a path through them that they could follow. Kate ran after them, and even that was enough that she lost a few of the men she was holding, but she kept her grip on the others even while the clash of blades sounded ahead.
She plunged into the fight, her blade cutting down men as they struggled to rouse themselves. She hacked and moved, never staying in one place, killing with all the speed and power of a cannonball plunging through them. She had to buy the others time to break through and make it to the ships. She owed them that when they wouldn’t even have been there if it weren’t for her.
Then she felt the other force pushing at the edges of her power, breaking it apart and scattering it. It felt like some great, fluttering thing, dark and dangerous, too strong to hold against here, like this. Kate felt her hold on the soldiers give way in a collapse of fragments, unable to hold them. Around her, she heard the blare of muskets as men did what they’d been intending when she’d gripped their minds, but Lord Cranston’s men were already past.
They came at her now, and Kate had to move and dodge, feeling the whisper of blades too close to her, cutting back with her own weapons at throat and groin, heart and shoulder. She was red with blood now, so that the rest of her must have matched her hair, leaving her looking like some kind of creature out of nightmares.
Then Kate saw someone who was.
He appeared to be no more than twenty or so, yet there was something ageless about his face as he stalked through the battle. He had dark hair that was spiked and flicked until it seemed like the unruly feathers of a bird. His eyes were covered by dark glasses that made it seem as though his eyes had no whites to them. He wore the ochre of the others, but over it, there was a long coat of dark material, scuffed and marked by years of use. His gloved hands gripped the hilt of a long dueling sword, which cut out with deadly grace whenever someone got too close. As if to declare who he was, a crow rode on his shoulder, black eyes staring.
The Master of Crows came forward, and Kate knew that he was coming for her.
She leapt to meet him, her own sword flashing up to strike toward his throat. He parried the blow and slipped aside, his riposte coming so fast that Kate barely avoided it.
“You have some skill,” he said, parrying another attack. “And you have some power. Would you like to know what I do with those who have power?”
“Talk them to death?” Kate guessed, throwing another attack halfway through it. The Master of Crows was fast enough to whirl away.
“I put what’s left of them in cages for the crows to feast on and take their power,” the Master of Crows replied. “I’m sure my pets will enjoy devouring you. First, though, we need to make you carrion.”
He struck at Kate then, and he was brutally fast. His first cut almost broke through her defenses. His second did, and Kate felt a flash of pain as his sword struck into the meat of her arm. Kate barely managed to kick him away, making space.
She knew in that moment that she couldn’t beat him. Not here, not like this. She threw another cut anyway, and the Master of Crows deflected it with a circling parry that almost drew Kate onto the tip of his blade.
“Kate! Get down!”
Kate heard the urgency in Lord Cranston’s tone and dropped to the ground without hesitation. Behind her, she heard the roar of muskets, and she saw men fall, but the Master of Crows was lost amid the smoke and the sounds of the battle.
A part of Kate thought about going after him, but that would be suicide. Instead, she forced herself to her feet, running back toward Lord Cranston’s forces. They ran together, Kate helping to support the older man as they made their way back to the boats. They clambered aboard, scrambling up netting while above them, sailors were already working to put the ships into motion. Kate all but fell onto the deck, lying there while around her, men struggled aboard. She didn’t know how many there were now, because there was no way of knowing how many might have been cut down in the battle.
She felt the ship swinging round, heading out to sea, and Kate made herself stand. To her surprise, none of the vessels in the harbor seemed to be following them now. Perhaps they didn’t believe that they were worth the effort. As if in answer to that thought, words whispered in her mind, in a brush that made her shudder.
Don’t worry, girl, I will come for you soon. You, your mistress, and all the old things of the world.
Kate had no doubt that he meant it.
***
As the ship sailed the distance back across the Knifewater, Kate looked around at the men who sat nursing wounds or washing blood away from their armor. She walked the length of the ship, looking for Will, and as she did so, she caught the thoughts around her.
It’s her fault so many are dead.
It’s her fault we were there.
It’s her fault…
Kate clamped down on her powers simply to stop hearing it, but that didn’t do anything to get rid of the hard looks as she passed or the muttering behind her back. After the first battle she’d been in, Kate had found herself feeling that she was finally starting to fit in with the company. Now, she felt as though she would never truly be one of them.
She found Will in the space near the cannons, packing away unused powder. To Kate’s shock, he had a bandage wrapped around his arm, through which blood was seeping.
“Will? What happened?” she demanded.
She’d hoped he would be safe back on the ship, firing cannon in support of the assault. She’d been sure that he had one of the safest roles in Lord Cranston’s company.
“One of the cannon kicked back,” Will said. “It could have happened at any time.”
“At any time in a battle,” Kate said. “And that battle wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“You mustn’t think like that,” Will insisted. He reached out for her, but Kate stepped back.
“What else am I supposed to think?” Kate demanded. She shook her head as Will moved forward again. “I have to go. I have to… Lord Cranston will be asking for me by now.”
She hurried off, and in the confined space of the ship, it didn’t take long to find the company’s commander. He was in his cabin, pouring alcohol over a wound that looked as though it had come from a dagger.
“What is it, Kate?” he asked. “I have rather a lot to do.”
Kate took a breath, then said it before she could talk herself out of it. “I think I need to leave your company, sir.”
Lord Cranston regarded h
“You know why,” Kate said. “As long as I’m a part of your company, you’re all in danger. The Dowager will continue to send you on suicide missions. This should have killed us all, and it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“We wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you,” Lord Cranston pointed out. He stopped pouring the alcohol on his wounds and took a swig of it instead. “You fired their ships. You took their flag.”
“None of which would have been necessary if it weren’t for my presence,” Kate said. “You need to let me go. Drop me off somewhere on the coast and just go.”
Lord Cranston paused with his flask halfway to his lips. “You realize what you’re suggesting, Kate? You wouldn’t have the protection of the company anymore. You would go back to being hunted. You wouldn’t be safe.”
“I’m not safe anyway,” Kate said. “At least, this way, all of you might be.”
Lord Cranston stood, moving over to the window to his cabin.
“No. No, Kate, I won’t allow it.”
“You have to,” Kate insisted.
He spun back toward her. “I don’t have to do any such thing. You’ll die out there if you go off alone, and I’ll not let that happen.”
Kate shook her head, ready to argue, but Lord Cranston cut her off.
“I have asked your opinion on many things, Kate, but this is one matter that is not up for discussion. I am the commander of this company, and I have made my decision. You will stay with us, where you can be safe. If that attracts the Dowager’s wrath then… well, we will find a way to deal with it.”
Kate knew he was trying to protect her, but even so, it was a stupid move.