His heart started to race. They were almost at the current border between Sania and Kaul. The only landmark that separated the countries was a river and the bridge. There was no fort or castle, for the provinces of Lyonese and Bourgoy had both once been a part of Sania. Until his grandfather and then his father had traded them away to avoid war with Kaul, hoping to placate their aggressive neighbor.
General de Flores held up her arm and her company brought their horses to a halt right before the bridge. Looking over his shoulder, Matteo saw the other cavalry units, foot soldiers, and supply wagons come to a halt like a long row of dominoes.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Xavier said.
His father’s final advice played in his mind:Words are more powerful than any weapon you wield.
This didn’t have to become bloody.
Not yet.
Matteo didn’t answer his friend; instead, he squeezed his ankles into his horse’s flank and urged him across the bridge. On the other side, the people of the city had gathered in the streets to see the oncoming army. The people parted for him and his horse to make a path to the center square. He pulled his horse to a stop right before the large square fountain. In the center were carvings of humans holding the sun, moon, and stars, each shooting water from their mouths.
Taking off his hat, he smiled down at the people. “For too long, good Sanians like yourselves have been bartered between greedy kings, with no thought of your livelihoods or your families. Because of this, you have paid nearly half of your goods and coins in taxes to greedy Kaulish kings and courtiers to finance their excessive palaces, fine things, and expensive clothes. I am here to bring you home to Sania, and you can keep your money and goods for your own homes. To provide for your children and your elderly. I will not barter you away to avoid war. Instead, I will defend you to my death.”
He waited for cheers or jeers from the crowd. For a moment, he even wished that he was wearing a ceremonial uniform with splendid medals to make him appear more impressive—so they could see him as a king and not just a young man wearing a blue suit.
A man in the front threw his hat up. “Long live King Matteo!”
Hats of all shapes, colors, and sizes flew into the air as more and more of the people of Lyonese joined in the cheer. Women and men crowded forward to shake his hand. Matteo gladly touched one and all. Others, farther back, clapped and whistled.
After a few minutes his horse began to get restless, shifting his feet and snorting as he lifted his head. Matteo put his hat back on and drew his sword, holding it high. “Thank you, my people. Please make way for the army of Sania. We go to teach King Pierre and those silly Kauls a lesson.”
This announcement was met with even more adulation, but the crowd did as he asked. It parted to both sides of the road and let General de Flores lead the army through the city. Matteo fell in by her side. He watched as members of the cavalry waved their hands and their hats as if they were in a parade. He could only hope that all the cities in the province of Lyonese would give them a similar reception.
Xavier huffed at his side. “That was extremely dangerous. You shouldn’t have ridden into the city without protection. Any fool could have shot you.”
Matteo saw General de Flores stiffen in her saddle. The expression on her face was one of disapproval, but unlike his best friend, she did not speak her thoughts.
Relaxing his hold on the reins, Matteo sighed. “It was a gamble, but I remember visiting this very square when I was a child of eight. These people have only been a part of Kaul for less than eleven years. They speak both Sanian and Kaulish. I believed their loyalty would be to Sania if I gave them a reason. If I used mywordsto conquer them.”
“A bold and dangerous move, Your Majesty,” General de Flores said, giving him a rare nod of approval. “One that has worked very well in Lyonese. But Bourgoy province has been a part of Kaul for more than twenty-five years. They might not be as amenable to our invasion. I would request that you are more cautious when we reach it.”
He couldn’t help but smirk. General de Flores had been his first sword master, both exacting and ruthless. She had never treated him with any deference because he was a prince. If anything, she’d pushed him harder. Never content with him merely beating his opponent, General de Flores had not allowed him to make any mistakes. Yet she realized the change in his position. He was now her king, and she would no longer try to command him.
“Excellent advice, General,” he agreed. “I promise you that I shall be.”
13
GERARD
It was dusk before he saw the port of Feillon in Kaul. Gerard was thirsty, hungry, and irritable. He should have purchased provisions before embarking on an eight-hour sail. But he’d been too worked up over Elea. Too eager to put some distance between him and her. From his foolish feelings for her. She had used him and discarded him, just like his father had. And he’d let her. He’d even believed that a princess could care for him.
He pulled his captain’s coat from the burlap bag. He would need his navy uniform to be able to tie up his boat on a Kaulish dock without a fee. Which, since he had not a coin on him, he would need. Shrugging into the coat, it felt smaller, as if it no longer fit. Perhaps it didn’t. Gerard had abandoned his post for a foreign princess.
He signaled the dockmaster, who pointed him to an open berth. He steered the boat into the spot, grabbed a rope, and hopped onto the wooden dock to tie it to the anchor. After securing the boat, he saluted the dockmaster. A bright smile filled the broad man’s face as he returned the salute. Dockmaster Laurent must have remembered him. Gerard had visited the city of Feillon many times with Petit. Almost every holiday since he’d joined the navy.
“How are you, Dockmaster?”
“I’m in fine fettle,” Laurent said with another warm smile, pointing at Gerard’s coat. “But not quite as fine as you. A captain at only twenty-six? Unheard of. Congratulations, son.”
Gerard could not quite look the man in the eye. “I, uh, I suppose you’re wondering why I am not on my ship. Why I am sailing an Urkan fish boat.”
A shadow fell over Laurent’s face. “Petit said you were fulfilling a life debt. TheVaillantestopped here for repairs. They sailed with the evening tide. You just missed them by hours, lad.”
Blast.
What was he to do now? How could he catch up with his ship?