Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

40. The Real Deal

When Ondrey and I entered the camp, Miccola didn't rush at me with hugs. However, she strode through the muck in her beloved boots for my sake. I appreciated the sacrifice.

"Well, look who shows up alive and not a moment too soon," she said, frowning at our sooty persons. I jutted my chin forward and gripped Ondrey's elbow tighter. The cat countered Miccola's frown by a mile-wide yawn. As an ally, he was all right.

"I have a delegation under the white flag of truth riding from Ratne, so clean up fast and nice, Your Grandissima. Your kit is in your tent. Phedoxia and the Haida's pandits are putting them up to negotiate in a pavilion with a beautiful view of the graves we're digging for their reinforcements...

"Wait, where is the other old witch? The more of them on our side, the merrier."

"Dead," Ondrey said colorlessly, at the same time as I said, "The smoke at our backs is Yadwiga's funeral pyre. She healed me, and she died."

Miccola's frown deepened. "Who'll speak for our Tverizh allies now?"

I tilted my head Ondrey's way. "Until they tell us otherwise, it's Ondrey. See if you can find your wagon, sweetheart. Bring whatever you need to my tent, and we'll get ready."

I kissed him on the brow and followed his progress through the camp with stinging eyes.

"Sweetheart?" Miccola sighed. "Bad idea, Ismar! Listen to me—with your ears, if you can, not the hole between your legs. He isn't loved, not even respected, they call him—"

I cut her off because my heart was already on Ondrey's heels, bleeding for him as it went. "Did you fish out the Eternal Sovereign's remains to prove she's dead?"

"Aye." Miccola sucked her teeth. "Still can't believe that you got the monster down with naught but a dagger. Black steel is badass!"

I nodded. "What happened to the remains?"

"Phedoxia stuffed the corpse with more herbs and magic potions than a roasting pig, put it before the Mythra's altar and ordered women to sing prayers."

"Ouch."

"The hag's afraid that Snehora might rise again. Says the Princess has Bhuta's blood in her. Not sure if she's just cussing or what? You know how she is about the Bhutas..."

"Fine." I breathed in the foul stench of life, taking in the buzz of the camp. Marvelous stench, marvelous buzz! The world went on, and so did I. I had to change, meet the delegation, honor the dead, pray to Mythra, get married, keep my new child safe and so on.

I scrubbed off as much grime as I could, before changing into a padded doublet, a coat of chainmail, a gray surcoat and cloak of the company, but didn't try too hard. This was a battlefield, not a ballroom, so I had no qualms about wearing my business face.

Ondrey scoured his skin. As a result of his efforts, a rare cadaver boasted paler countenance than his. A fleeting kiss returned a modicum of color to his cheeks, but only just. I ruffled the damp waves of his hair, straightened the fur collar, a dusky-gray fox, rather than a living cat.

"We'll get through this, I promise," I whispered into his ear.

We marched to meet the Ratne's delegation side-by-side. Eyes followed us. One woman nodded approvingly, but most had Miccola-sized winces. Maybe the day would come when jubilant crowds would dance in the streets, tossing red and white roses at me and my intended. This, quite obviously, wasn't that day!

I gnashed my teeth. I gripped his hand, pulling him even closer to me. To the River Vash with the bloody roses! His love was all I needed.

Ratne sent three leaders to negotiate the terms, along with a booster crop of lackeys.