The Radiant War

Chapter 17a

     “There’s no reason we shouldn't try to be civil with each other,” said Soonia Darniss. “We are here with a common purpose, after all.”

     Princess Ardria nodded her reluctant agreement. She would have liked nothing better than to give this woman a severe tonguelashing. No, scratch that. She wanted to punch her in the face! The fact was that she needed this woman, though. All humanity needed her, to add her voice to hers when they came to speak to King Nilon. She couldn't take the risk that she might change her mind in a fit of pique and deny any knowledge of what the Princess was saying just to punish her for being uncivil during the journey. She hoped that she would never do such a dangerous thing for such a trivial reason, but with the fate of all humanity riding on them it wasn't a chance she dared to take.

     “You're right,” she reluctantly said, therefore, and made herself smile at the woman sitting beside her. “What happened between us is in the past. We have to rise above it and work together for the common good.”

     They had stopped for their midday meal at a carriage house about halfway between Tibre and Charnox and were sitting at the same table in the common room, along with Captain Silva, the man in charge of getting her to the King in one piece. The other tables were occupied by half a dozen of his men, watching her carefully while they ate their bread and bloodcakes, as if they thought she might try to escape. The rest of the men were outside, holding back the people of the small town who were eager to get a glimpse of the enemy Princess and perhaps throw a few lumps of horse dung at her, more to prove their loyalty to their king than out of any real animosity towards her. It had come of something of a surprise to the Princess to find that she was almost as highly regarded in Carrow as she was in her own country.

     She had expected to have her hands bound for the long ride across Carrow, but the Captain had decided that it wasn't necessary. The Princess had entered Carrow voluntarily, after all. She clearly wanted to be taken to Charnox, and so any measures to prevent her from escaping were unnecessary. It enabled her to ride with dignity among the soldiers, with only the memory of her murdered escort marring what was otherwise a rather pleasant ride. The murder of Teena, in particular, sat hard with her, but they had all known the dangers and the young woman had insisted on taking the risk. The Princess promised herself that if she survived this mission and returned to Helberion one day, she would give her a posthumous award of some kind. A high one. The Master of Titles and Ceremonies would adviser her which one would be most suitable, and it would include a large cash payment for her surviving family, which she knew included a half raised sister.

     They had been angling north, rather than making a beeline for Charnox. The Captain had told her that they were going to Finchingfield, where they would be taking a train the rest of the way, arriving two days earlier than if they'd taken the more direct route. Ardria enjoyed the horse ride while she could, therefore. She liked a horse ride. Back in Helberion, during their frequent stays at their palace in Mildenhall, she'd liked nothing better than to ride Dancer, her favourite horse. She rode her so much, in fact, that she'd been warned that she and her groom ran the risk of becoming parent bonded to her. Riding as part of a column of cavalry was no fun, though. If she'd been able to ride at the head of the column, as she was accustomed to doing, it wouldn't have been so bad, but she was kept in the middle of the column where she was constantly eating the dust of the riders ahead of her. A train would be a relief, she decided. It would be a relief to her aching back as well.

     She took another bite from the large slab of blood cake that took up half her plate. Hard and dry, she had to keep taking sips of watered down wine to wash it down, but it had a savoury taste she was rather enjoying. She’d asked the serving girl what type of cake it was, and had been told it was Dexwell, a name that meant nothing to her. It would have been nothing more than mousetrap bait back in her own palace, but now she found herself wondering if they could obtain a supply for the palace larder, for when she fancied a change from the much finer bloodcakes she was more accustomed to eating. She was particularly determined to enjoy it after seeing how scarce and expensive food was for the common people of this country.