The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [134]
The other Embarran knights muttered angry words. Vedarr pounded his thigh with a fist. “I should have your head for those impudent words, Sir Knight, but I will give you all one more chance, though you deserve it not. Deliver Sir Durge to me now, and I will let you ride on if you swear to make straight for the northern border of the Dominion.”
Durge nodded. “So be it.” He started to guide Blackalock forward.
“Hold, Sir Durge,” Grace said. In an instant fear fled, replaced by cold fury. There was so much that terrified her, so many things of which she was uncertain, but there was one thing she was utterly sure of: No one was going to take Durge from her while he still had time left. No one.
Durge gazed back at her, brown eyes startled. “Your Majesty, I beg you. It is the only way. They will let you ride north if I go with them. It is imperative you reach Shadowsdeep.” He turned and started again toward the Embarrans.
“I said hold, Sir Durge. That's an order. Or have you forgotten the oath you swore to me?”
This time, when he looked back, his expression was one of horror. “Never, Your Majesty. With every beat of my heart I have served you and only you. Yet again I beg you, you must let me do this thing.”
To her astonishment, Grace found herself smiling. But then, fear was impossible when you knew what you were doing was utterly and truly right.
“No, Durge. I will not let you go, not for all the knights in Embarr. You belong at my side and nowhere else.”
As he gazed at her, an array of emotions passed across his face. Shock, then outrage, then finally wonder. His drooping mustaches twitched, almost as if they hid a smile.
“As you wish it, Your Majesty,” he said, and he guided Blackalock back to stand beside her horse.
Vedarr's gaze was hard, though not without pity. “You have made a dire mistake, Sir Durge.”
“No,” Durge said. “I nearly did, but I have been saved from it by the grace and goodness of my queen. And if you are yet even a shadow of the strong and wise man I once knew, Sir Vedarr, you would allow her to save you as well.”
This seemed to leave Vedarr at a loss of words, and the knights behind him exchanged confused glances. At that moment, Paladus came riding up the slope. The army had come to a halt fifty yards away.
“Do we fight this day, Your Majesty?” Paladus said. There was an eager gleam in his eyes.
“I don't know,” Grace said, directing her gaze at Sir Vedarr. “Do we?”
The air was utterly still, as if frozen by the tension that hung between them. One move, and everything would shatter.
“We have our orders,” Vedarr said. “And we are loyal to our king. We know what we must do.”
Behind him, his men shifted in their saddles. Their expressions were less certain than Vedarr's, but it was clear they would not defy him. Grace knew she had to say something, but Sir Tarus was faster.
“Think, Sir Vedarr,” the red-haired knight said. “For a moment don't simply follow orders, but think about what you're doing. You've seen Fellring with your own eyes. Her Majesty Grace is the queen of Malachor. She is above the rulers of all the Dominions, including your king.”
Vedarr pressed a fist to his brow. “Stop it,” he said, his voice edging into a hiss. “Do not do this to me, Sir Knight. Do not ask me to give up my oath of loyalty.”
“I ask you to give up nothing save madness. You speak of loyalty. What of your king's loyalty to you, to your Dominion? Has he not betrayed you all by casting his lot with the Onyx Knights?” He gestured to Grace. “And here before you is the queen of us all. Is your loyalty not ultimately to her?”
Vedarr shook his head. “If she were the queen . . . perhaps, if she were truly the queen. But how do I know it is true? How can we be certain this is the right thing?”
Before Tarus could speak again, a stunning and impossible thing happened.
Durge laughed.
The knight