Although he did not regret his decision to stand behind the Younger King, it didn’t feel right battling his own countrymen. It troubled his conscience.
Ransom found Devon’s tent in the haze and approached it. Sirs Simon and Alain were on guard outside.
“Is the king awake?”
“Aye, go in,” said Simon.
Ransom parted the canvas door. Devon sat at a table within the tent, already wearing a hauberk and a smoke-stained tunic. His face was sooty, but he smiled at Ransom, beaming with pride at his conquest. Princess Noemie sat abed, holding a blanket to cover her nightclothes as she read from reports. The sight of her chestnut hair streaming down her back, unbraided, caused a tightening in his chest, so he looked away. She glanced up at him, then went back to reading.
“How was the night watch, Ransom?” Devon asked eagerly.
“I found one man asleep at his post and gave him a thrashing before sending him to his captain,” Ransom said. “But all the rest were alert. Discipline is good.”
“I’m glad you were hard on him. Fear will keep them awake. Do you think the defenders of Arlect will try and attack us at night?”
“Not likely,” Ransom said. “We probably outnumber them. No, they’re hoping reinforcements will arrive or we’ll move on.”
“Which is precisely why we need to end it before help comes,” Devon said. He pored over a rudimentary map on the table in front of him. “Come look at this. Advise me.”
Ransom gazed at the map, which looked like it had been scrawled by a court scribe. It was all written in Occitanian. Instead of Westmarch it said La Marche. “You got this map from King Lewis?”
“Yes, but I wonder if it is accurate. Isn’t there a castle here?” He pointed to a spot to the east of their location.
“Yes, one built during the civil wars. It’s not in our path.”
“Father’s maps are more accurate, then. That gives him an advantage. I should have spent less time in the North. I don’t know Westmarch as well as I should.”
“Ransom looks tired,” said the princess. “Let him rest. If they breach the wall today, he’ll need his strength for the fighting.”
He glanced at her again, wondering why she’d said such a thing, although it was, of course, true. He was impressed that she’d come on the campaign instead of remaining behind in the safety of Pree. Her advice throughout the situation had been both useful and well thought out, and yet his instincts warned him not to trust her. Her behavior was different when her husband wasn’t there.
“You haven’t slept, have you?” said Devon, looking at Ransom’s bleary eyes. “She’s right. Get some rest. We’ll wake you if anything exciting happens. All this soot and smoke. It makes it hard to breathe.”
“This is war,” said Noemie.
“By your leave, then,” Ransom said, nodding to them both. He left the tent and found himself lost in the smoke for a moment, but then he remembered his tent was behind the king’s. All of the mesnie slept around Devon, a final circle of defense. A page helped him remove his armor, but he wouldn’t take off his hauberk, and he slept with the pommel of the sword the Elder King had given him in his hand. He stared at it, feeling guilty still for what he was doing. But exhaustion made him succumb quickly to sleep.
He dreamed that he and Lady Claire were walking together at the tournament camp at Chessy. They were laughing joyfully—the kind of laughter only possible for the unburdened. He could see the streaks of crimson in her hair, illuminated by the dazzling torchlight. He wanted to touch her hair. Would he dare do so, even if he knew it was a dream?
He smelled flowers. Did dreams have such strong smells? His eyes blinked awake, and he realized the smell was hovering over him. A hand jostled his shoulder.
The princess’s voice whispered to him through his half sleep. “Wake up, Sir Ransom. The king summons you.”
He twisted, finding Noemie bending over him, her hand on his shoulder. She was dressed in a riding gown besmirched with soot, but her hair was braided and tethered back, a narrow gold band across her brow. She’d never come into his tent before.
The grogginess he felt left him instantly, and he sat up quickly.
“You could have sent a page,” he said, rising fast.
She gave him a mocking smile, but it was nothing like the kind that Claire gave. This one was more predatory.
“There were none, and you were nearby. It’s no trouble. We must all do our part. Come quickly.”