Of Limited Loyalty

Chapter Sixty-three

20 June 1768 Bounty Trail Temperance Bay, Mystria

While Owen was anxious to get back to his family, he welcomed the leisurely pace of the return journey for a number of reasons. Each day the party shrank as family groups and squads split off for their homes. The leave-taking was bittersweet and different than it had been after Anvil Lake. These people had lost friends and gotten wounded fighting an enemy they’d never heard of before, and likely never would hear of again. Many of them still had no real idea who the Norghaest were, though the impression that they were from the far, southwest deserts had taken hold. While the people had won a great victory-and probably would never understand how great it truly was-there was no sense of history about it.

They had just come out to defend their homes and support Prince Vlad as he defended Mystria. As causes went, it wasn’t a great one and yet, it was one for which people were more than willing to give their lives. That alone made it special, and the grim satisfaction on the faces of those who headed home suggested they understood that fact even if they still weren’t clear on all that had happened.

Because the Fifth Northland had ridden ahead, and passed through to Temperance Bay more than a week before the force’s main body, local people came out to see the spectacle of returning troops. Because of the odd weather, and it being so early in the year, farmers didn’t have much to share with the troops, but they shared what they could. By agreement, the Prince accepted something, and then the children and wounded got offerings, while the rest just watched and cheered. Especially joyous were those times when soldiers found their families waiting for them. Owen secretly hoped Catherine, Miranda, and Becca might be waiting for him, and was certain the Prince’s family would greet him before Prince Haven.

The prolonged journey allowed Owen time to wrestle with the problems he’d discussed with the Prince. He didn’t think too long on the question of Catherine’s infidelity simply because it had become moot. Bumble, or someone else, had pressured her into tricking Princess Gisella. Catherine had to know that Gisella had a secret. Owen had to be on guard not to reveal what he knew, and had to learn what she did know. Until that matter was settled, she had to be considered utterly untrustworthy. In that case, her fidelity and their marriage really did not matter.

What he did realize was that he would never abandon her, nor would he humiliate her. He would endure whatever life threw at him simply because he had taken vows and, more importantly, had two daughters to raise. Mystria was a magickal land that had given him a future. He owed it to his new home to raise his girls to be daughters of Mystria. It didn’t matter that Becca was not his blood; she was his responsibility. Just as the Prince had asked him to look after his family, so Owen would look after his own.

The journey gave him a great deal of time to think on the puzzle of Mugwump. Owen had been proud of his conclusion and the Prince’s surprised reaction had tickled him to death. Vlad had stammered and stared, then paced. They discussed the facts. Mugwump had been born into military service and had fought in wars for nearly seven centuries. He used magick to fly. If his use of magick for flight was a natural process, Owen guessed the dragon might well have been equipped to hear, for lack of a better term, the messages being sent. His residence at Prince Haven would have allowed him to experience all of the early messages and, since mimicry was not unknown among animals, it was not hard to postulate that he could have learned to send messages that appeared to have been sent by Prince Vlad.

Supposing that Mugwump had the ability to hear and send messages also accounted for the ghost messages. It occurred to Owen that those might have been Mugwump’s first attempts at forming messages, but then an even more interesting and terrifying thought came to him. The Prince had reported that when they flew together, Mugwump would make vocalizations. What if the ghost messages were magickal vocalizations which were meant for other dragons? Messages that men could not understand because they were not meant to be understood by men. And if they were sent to dragons, did he ever get a reply?

That question started Owen down into an abyss from which there seemed no recovery. He’d seen adult dragons attacking the Norghaest in his salksasi — induced vision. While he took solace in the old adage that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he couldn’t be certain dragons would see men as friends. Dragons had attacked the Norghaest, and left the Shedashee alone, but Mystrians lived a lifestyle far closer to that of the Norghaest than it was to that of the Shedashee. If the dragons come, who will they hunt?

As they drew near to Prince Haven, Owen fell into step with Bethany Frost. Though storm clouds gathered in the east, he refused to think of it as an omen. “Will you stay at Prince Haven, or go straight into Temperance?”

“Home, I think.” She smiled and looked back along the line of march where Caleb led the Northern Rangers. “My uncle said some very nice things about Caleb before he and his Southern Rangers left. While Caleb is very pleased and proud, I think he wants to get home again. He asked if I would mind staying one more night in a camp, before we marched in, but made it very clear he hoped I would say no. Given the storm coming in, I think I made the right choice.”

“It would appear so.”

She lowered her voice. “I’ve hated that we’ve not been able to talk much on the march. Your voice carries, though, and I smile when I hear it. I would spend the night out here in a gale, just knowing you were close, wanting you to be safe. It is quite unfair of me to say this, but I love you. I want you to know that, so you can remember me saying it in those quiet times when you need to hear it said.”

Owen shook his head. “Thank you. For that. For saving my life at Fort Plentiful. You must promise that when you edit my new book, you will not take out the mentions of your heroism.”

She smiled and a hint of color came to her cheeks. “It pleases me to know you’ll write another book. That I get to see it first pleases me even more.”

So innocent a thing to be discussing, and yet so intimate. Owen wanted to pull her into his arms and hug her, but he held back. They had been completely circumspect on the journey, so much so that Caleb had asked if a rift had developed between them. Owen had no idea what others thought or suspected. He only cared after the pain it might cause Bethany and the ruin it might bring to her reputation.

They came up over a small hill, and Mugwump perked up as the road passed the field in which he had learned to fly. Further on, where the drive to Prince Haven met the trail, a small knot of people waited. The marchers generally moved to the northern side of the road, and draymen under Baker’s instructions freed Mugwump from the wagons. They brought horses forward to pull them for the last miles to Temperance.

Owen joined Prince Vlad and Count von Metternin as they headed to the drive. He turned back and waved to Bethany, though many others thought he was waving to them. As they drew closer, it became quite apparent that Princess Gisella was very pregnant. Prince Richard had grown quite a bit and ran to his father once he recognized him. Princess Rowena struggled in her nurse’s arms-not to run to Prince Vlad, but to shy from him since she did not recognize him.

Owen’s throat thickened as the Prince embraced his wife tightly and Richard clasped the man’s left leg in his arms. He marveled for a moment at the love on her face and fierce gentleness of their hug. Try as he might, he could never remember seeing that expression on his wife’s face, and longing sliced into him like a knife.

Then Miranda came running to him, arms extended. “Papa! Papa! It’s me, Miranda!”

Laughing, he caught her in his arms, lifted her, and twirled her around. “Are you sure you’re Miranda? You’re terribly big!”

“I’m almost four!” She shrieked delightedly.

He hugged her, then saw Becca standing beside Agnes. He gave Miranda a kiss on the cheek, then pulled Becca under his arm. “It is wonderful to see you, too, Becca. The things which killed your family are gone. You’re safe.”

The girl slipped her arms around his waist as he looked at the servant. “Where is Mrs. Strake?”

“She went to town, Captain. A day ago.”

Gisella twisted in her husband’s arms. “When the Fifth came through we learned of your schedule. Catherine went to get wine and supplies to celebrate. She should be back soon, if storms do not keep her in Temperance.”

Prince Vlad nodded. “Come with us to Prince Haven. We’ll wait things out there.”

Owen nodded. “Agnes, if you will take the girls. Highness, I will just head home and change into more suitable clothes. As glad as my wife will be to see me, she will happier if I do not stink of the long walk home.”

“An excellent idea.” The Prince laughed. “My clothes will have to be boiled or burned, and if I can get a good warm soaking, I don’t think I’ll care which it is.”

Owen found the letter on his dresser, his name neatly inscribed in Catherine’s strong hand. He crossed to a desk, sat, lit a lamp, then broke the seal, smoothing the paper against his thigh. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of the paper and the way it felt against his fingertips. He almost raised it to his nose, but he knew it might smell of her, and he did not want that. He resisted the temptation to hold it over the lamp’s flame, destroying it unread because he knew what it said.

And he knew the words would be worse than anything he could imagine.

Owen,

I have been reliably informed of your infidelity while in the west. You arranged for your mistress to join the Prince’s staff, and you took no care to keep your affair hidden.

I can understand sinful urges, but I cannot understand how you could embarrass me so. How could you make your family a laughing stock? You must never have loved me, or our daughter, only yourself.

I cannot tolerate this dishonor. Do not try to find me. I shall not return to Mystria if you do. Tell them whatever you must, whatever lie you and your whore concoct. Tell them I was too fragile for this land, or that I found it quite lacking in elegance. Tell them I returned to Norisle in shame. They’ll believe it.

But know you this, Owen Strake, I shall never grant you a divorce. If you pursue me, I shall reveal the true, sordid tale of your affair. Not that it would matter to you, save that your whore would become soiled because of the tawdry nature of your association.

I would have taken Miranda with me, but every time I would have looked at her, I would have seen your face. I would have remembered your beastly conduct. I would have remembered you are a man without honor and I would have hated myself for sharing your life and giving you a child.

You chose Mystria over me, Owen Strake. I see now that you truly were Mystrian. You always have been, and have always been unworthy of a noble Norillian woman like me. I had once harbored hopes that perhaps your mother’s blood would be strong in your veins, but now I know your father’s mongrel taint has stained you to the core.

You will never see me again, Owen Strake, but I will, forever, remain, your wife.

Catherine

Owen went to sit, but avoided the bed and sank down against the wall. He folded the letter again and clutched it in both hands. Catherine’s venom-laden words echoed through his mind. He could almost imagine hearing the scratch of her quill on paper as she wrote, and see her face contorted in fury.

So much anger, more than I ever suspected. Catherine meant the letter to poison his soul. He did not doubt she’d taken a lover, since the letter made it clear that he’d failed her as a husband. He’d failed her in every way. As she saw it, their marriage was long since dead, and only useful as a tool with which she could torture him.

And he realized that no matter how far away she went, she would torture him until the day he died.