Marilia, the Warlord by Morgan Cole

Author:Morgan Cole
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: female warrior, heros journey, woman warrior, sword battles, warrior girl, sibling envy, lgbt fantasy, character arc, lgbt character, twin rivalry
Publisher: Morgan Cole

Chapter Twenty

It took them nearly two more days of fast riding to reach Svartennos City. Though by now his eyes were ringed with dark circles—the result of too little sleep, too many cares—Kanediel went straight to the great hall.

He fell into a cushion at the end of Ben Espeleos’ table, holding his head in his hands.

Marilia started for the staircase, meaning to head up towards the quarters that had been prepared for her on the castle’s second floor, when Kanediel called out to her. “I’m sorry for before,” he said. “I spoke harshly; I was unfair to you.”

She paused. “I understand.”

He motioned to a cushion beside him. “Sit with me.”

She went and sat beside him, laying her hands on the smooth, polished surface of the table, tracing her fingers over the pattern of dyed wood—two cherry-blossom trees in bloom, their branches intertwined. For a while neither of them said a word.

Above, through a screen that had been drawn up across a gap in the ceiling to keep out the marsh-gnats, she could see the sky. It was blue-gray like the autumn sea. An occasional gleam of sunlight broke from a gap in the clouds, striking the surface of Ben Espeleos’ table, catching the vellum panels along the walls. When that happened, the room felt almost welcoming—the panels glowed with warm light, and the shadows at the edges of the room did not seem so dark. But the glimpses of light were always brief; the clouds from the south rolled on, endless as the Tyracian army, snuffing them out one after another.

Kanediel cleared his throat. “The truth is this,” he said. “The Tyracians will be at this city in anywhere between four and six days, if the scouts’ reports are true. We have four thousand men here, and more are being marshaled, but it’s not enough. Vergana must be mustering reinforcements back on the mainland, but they will not arrive in time. And from what I’ve been hearing the army of Tyrace is…rather large.” His voice broke on the final word.

“How large is it?”

“Larger than Aemyr-Kal’s. Fifteen thousand men, if the scouts are right.”

Marilia swallowed.

“If they reach us here, they’ll…we…”

“You’re thinking of evacuating the city,” Marilia said, understanding.

Kanediel refused to look her in the eye. He seemed to have become fascinated by one of his fingernails, which had cracked. He picked at it. “This city has never been conquered. It was built after the Valdruk were driven out, and it has never been taken. Never. Do you understand what that means?” He raised his shadowed eyes to look at her. “I’d rather not be the one who lets it fall.”

“It will take time for the northern lords to gather their forces and march them to meet us,” Marilia said. “If we pull back farther north, it will give them the time they need. And they’ll have less far to march.”

Kanediel spread his palms face-up on the table. He studied them the way a man might study a battle-map. “It’s the pride of Svartennos I hold in my hands,” he said quietly.

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