The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [76]
Magic was something both armies shared, to a degree. But to bring back the dead, with animal spirits to give them strength—that had never been seen before. It had never even been spoken of before.
There were not many brave enough to hold their ground, and even those who did so were soon overwhelmed. The battle that had seemed a slaughter to Richon yesterday was now a rout, on the opposite side.
It was not until Richon thought about the royal steward that he realized there was no sign of the man, either at the front of the battle, with the men who were now fighting and winning, or at the back.
The royal steward’s personal guards were in disarray, some still standing where they had been the day before, the others joining in the fray. They were easy to spot—well-fed men with clean uniforms, terrified of those with magic.
The royal steward must have slipped away sometime during the battle, which he had meant to be a failure. To get his justice, Richon would have to go after him.
But for now there was the army of the King of Nolira before him. And then he saw the lord chamberlain on his horse, struggling to get clear of the battlefield.
Richon could not see his face, but slowly the small movements of the man in a panic removed all doubt. This was the lord chamberlain, who had seemed so kind, so gentle when he had come with the news of the deaths of the king and queen. He had made sure that Richon had time to himself, and was given sweets and hot drinks, anything that he asked for. Young Richon had not had to deal with the funerals at all. The lord chamberlain and the royal steward had done everything difficult for him.
And yet the two had hated each other. Richon had known that from the first, and now and again it had amused him to set them against each other. They would argue hotly until he sent them away. They only agreed on things that were to the advantage of both of them.
Each fought on a different side of this battle, but in the end they both must have wanted the same thing: the power of Richon’s kingdom.
Richon shook with anger as he looked at the lord chamberlain across the field of battle.
Richon had lost the royal steward. But he would not lose the lord chamberlain as well.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The Hound
SHE HAD FOUGHT for a time as a hound, but she had stepped back for a moment to try to see where she should go next. Then she heard the odd sound of a tent coming down behind her, the cloth flapping in the sparse wind.
She turned and from a distance saw the royal steward, red-faced.
“No! I told you not to do that!” he cried.
“But you said to pack—” the young servant answered.
The royal steward struck him full across the face. “Do what I say or you will regret it.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” said the servant.
“Now put my things into a single pack that I can set on a horse. I want money and a change of clothes and a weapon. I need no more than that.”
“But now that the battle is nearly won, surely you wish—”
The servant was struck again. “It is not your place to tell me what I wish and do not wish.”
“I only meant—”
“Silence!” the royal steward thundered, far louder than the sound of his tent being struck, though nothing like as loud as the battle.
She remained a hound and watched. It was not much, perhaps, but she did it for Richon. This was a man he hated and would want to punish.
The servant went back into the folds of the tent and brought it back up on one end. He rummaged for a few moments, then came back out with a small pack. “Sir?” he said.
The royal steward opened the pack. “You did not think to add food to this? How long can I journey without food?”
“You did not say to—”
“Get food!” said the royal steward.
In the few moments before the servant returned, the royal steward had mounted a gray horse with a long tail, one the other horses kept away from.
The hound guessed why, but would have to confirm it.
The royal steward started off at a gallop, with no more concern for the horse than a bit of wood.
The hound bounded as fast as she could to keep up with the horse. Now she