Fate War: Alliance (30 page)

She approached the war room. Two Arboreal soldiers guarded it. That was where Cole was supposed to be, and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be welcome behind those imposing wooden doors. She slowed and remembered how to carry herself. At least the boarding school had taught her something of value. Head up, shoulders back, act like you were in charge whether you were or not.

Sam strode purposely towards the door, not making eye contact with the soldiers. They fidgeted as she approached and exchanged confused glances, but they did not stop her as she pushed open the mammoth doors. Once inside, she closed them behind her quickly before the guards called her bluff, only to find herself in a sea of chaos.

Blue and red clad officials milled about the crowded room, along with noblemen stooped in worried conversations. Papers littered every surface as well as the walls. Her eyes were drawn to the maps and lists posted randomly, and the large mock battle field that centered the room, but she pulled them away to search for Cole.

It didn’t take long for her to be noticed. “Prince Cole! Could you please get her out of here!” was the stand out comment, though others were murmured. Had she been any other royal or even noblewoman, this kind of address would not be tolerated. She ignored the crass men, and finally spotted Cole extracting himself from the group.

A cold chill swept down her spine as he strode toward her. He didn’t smile. He always smiled when he saw her. Always. He took her by the elbow, and led her through the war room doors into the hall.

“Not a good time, Sam,” he said without emotion. He released his grip, but let his fingers linger, sliding to her wrist before he broke the contact. Dark circles under his eyes and a tight furrow in his brow spoke of his night on the couch and day in the war room.

“I’m sorry.” Sam didn’t know where to begin, so she started there, and continued before the tears could come. “I was wrong. I know why you didn’t ask me. I would have reacted badly no matter how this played out, and you were right to do what you did.” His features softened, but he still didn’t bless her with his smile, his patient, beautiful smile. “You’re right. I’m sick. I need to get better first before we have a baby…if you want a baby –”

“Oh, Sam.” His arms were around her, and she regretted the few hours she missed sleeping in them. “I’m sorry too. I should have asked.” He lowered his head and whispered, “I want a family, Sam. But not at the risk of losing you. I love you,” he said with a crushing squeeze.

“I love you, too.” Sam squeaked through the pressure. Cole gave one apologetic laugh, and let her go with a kiss on the forehead. He tucked her hair behind her ears, then rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Are we okay?” he asked, searching her eyes. She smiled and nodded, coaxing a grin from him as well.

“But you’re going to have to figure out this tea thing…soon,” she pouted. His laugh echoed down the castle corridor, and he swept her into his arms. Tipping her back he kissed her ravenously. She was panting for breath when he righted her a moment later. That was her Cole.

“I have to go, Love. I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips, turned and disappeared into the war room.

****

Cole closed the war room doors quickly behind him before he changed his mind. To be with Sam was what he really wanted. Why the slag he felt the need to torture himself further with plans of war and evacuation, he wasn’t sure. It seemed important now, making sure his kingdom survived, prospered.

He gripped the edge of the large table that housed the scale map of Arborea and surrounding countries. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of Sam, and the lingering scent of oil and gunpowder. How she came to smell like that, and why it aroused him, was another quandary.

It didn’t take much to pull his attention back to the circumstances at hand. The situation was bleak. The Fate had been methodical in the past. They conquered a country, conformed its people, rebuilt its army, then slowly encroached on the next kingdom, devouring it with sickening coercion until combat was necessary. That was until now.

By all accounts, the Fate should not have been ready to invade Nakona for another year, and then make a slow push towards Arborea, but the Fate had invaded their neighbors a few days ago in force. They were sweeping across that kingdom, and at the current rate would be at Arborea’s door step in less than two weeks.

The reports coming in were varied. The numbers of the practically indestructible mechmen were possibly several hundred to even a thousand. The foot soldiers were in the several thousands. The fledgling Alliance hadn’t even been able to exchange enough technology and soldiers to be of help. The news of the Pact was probably what precipitated the Fate’s movement.

The war room doors banged open, and Cole whipped his head around to see a weary messenger hand over a report to General Crom. The General’s expression was unreadable as he scanned the document.

“Gentlemen,” Crom barked, gaining attention from the disorderly room. “The good news is we have a more accurate report on the numbers of mechmen. There are a solid two hundred and no more.” A mumble of relief traveled through the crowd. “However, the Fate have expanded their a flotilla of airships. Numbers are not confirmed.” A grumble traversed the group of men as they turned back to their tasks.

The plan was still the same then. The Arboreal capital would be evacuated, and probably lost, but that would enable them to gain enough time to scramble men and mech. Although he cared little for it, seeing the Fate in control of this castle would be troubling. The logistics of the displaced people, not to mention the droves of Nakona refugees, was unthinkable.

“Damn it, Cole”, Crom’s meaty hand landed on the Prince’s shoulder, and spun him around. “Get that
woman
out of here or so help me I’ll drag her out myself.” The man stabbed a finger towards the doors, where Sam stood just inside.

“Clinker,” Cole whispered, and went to remove her. “Sam, you really…” Once he was close enough he realized she was in tinker trance. Her eyes flitted from document to document attached to walls; reports of troop movement, supplies, supply lines, available soldiers, maps and more. “Sam?” he asked cautiously.

“Get her out!” Crom bellowed.

“Shut up!” Cole rebounded, and took the few steps to close the distance, grabbing the man’s stiff, pin adorned collar. “She stays. If this kingdom has any chance of surviving, it’s in her.” Cole seethed, and pointed to a still entranced Sam.

Laughter erupted across the room, and Crom extracted himself from Cole’s grip. “Boy, I think the marriage bed has gone to your head.” The General chuckled spitefully.

Cole set his jaw, squared his shoulders and rose to his full height. He had had enough. “I am the crown Prince of Arborea. I am your future King.” The room fell silent as Cole’s menacing voice reverberated off the walls. He worked to keep it steady, and commanding when he just felt like yelling and starting a fist fight.

“This woman is your Princess and future Queen.” Cole indicated the still entranced Sam. “Not only will you give her the respect she deserves, but you will follow her orders as explicitly as you would mine or my father’s. Retribution will be immediate for those who disregard this warning. Now,” Cole straightened his waistcoat and sleeves. “Shut up, and let her work.”

Thirty minutes later Sam was still in tinker trance, having asked “What’s this?” dozens of times. Those with the knowledge would answer respectfully, curiously. She had moved on to the grand map with the placement of brass and lead figures representing Alliance and Fate forces. Cole had answered many questions concerning Sam, and the atmosphere in the room was quiet and skeptical. All work had ceased, and most of the men stood in small groups whispering and watching. Others left in fury, presumably tattling to the King, who had been in negotiations with the Nakona. Cole was sure he would be paying a visit there next.

He was glad the room was quiet, though. Her tinker trance wasn’t like when she blanked out. Noise or simply talking to her would break it. In their private moments though, when her eyes become pools of black, nothing got through. Somehow she clawed her way back to him out of the darkness. He shuddered thinking about it, wondering what horrors she’d seen to keep causing that.

“Cole?” Sam’s quiet voice penetrated his thoughts.

“Right here,” he said. She was wilting under the stares of fifty or so noblemen and ranking military officials. Her eyes finally found his in the crowd, and she said, “I have an idea.”

King Arnold sat across the imposing desk from Cole. He tapped the nose of his new dragonhead cane on the cherry wood. Why did everyone but him get a lethal accessory? He reigned his thoughts back in. Cole just wanted this meeting to end. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything with his father. What if Sam needed him? She was still in the war room explaining her plan for the fifth time in as many hours, and to the same people who heard it the first time.

“You realize if we implement this plan of hers, that’s it. There will be no reserve force, or assets left for that matter even.” The King glared at Cole, daring him to contradict.

“Yes.” Cole wasn’t going to give any more than that.

“Do you think it wise? I mean…” the King scratched the grey scruff on his chin. Daddy hadn’t been taking much care in his appearance of late. “Can she really do what she says? Can we trust her? It just seems so – “

“Impossible,” Cole finished. “Yes, Sam can do the impossible.”

The King sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose, the leather in his plush chair squeaking with the movement. “We would have to put her in charge,” he said with a sigh. “There are too many angles to put anyone else over the plan. A woman…in charge,” he grunted.

Cole burned with pride for Sam, and anger at his father. “God knows, acknowledging a woman could be the end of civilization as we know it.” Anger won out. The beast snapped its short leash.

The King huffed, and landed his fist hard on the desk. “Cole, can you just once leave them out of this.”

“I’m sorry if bringing up your bastard children offends you. Please, continue.”

“You want to have it out? Fine. Let’s have it out while I’m in the middle of trying to save thousands of lives, but if you want to be petty, let’s get it over with.” The King stood, placing his fingertips on the desktop, letting his weight settle there.

Cole stood too, meeting his steely gaze. “How noble of you, thinking of thousands of lives while you let three children rot alone out of shame.”

“I did what I could,” the King seethed.

“The hell you did.” The desk separated them, but there was only a breadth of space between their noses.

“I did what I could until you came along, and took care of them. I didn’t even know Savannah had died until you confronted me.” Was that compliment, cowardice or both?

The royal guards were outside the door, and all the times Cole wanted to lay hands on his father came rushing to the surface. He had his chance to hurt him, make him pay, right now. He should punish him for instilling such a code of honor in Morgan that it got him killed, but that no longer sounded right. Maybe for abandoning Savannah’s family, but he just admitted that he stopped taking care of them only because Cole had started. For the Verification then. Something niggled at the back of his mind.

“Did you rally against the Verification?” Cole asked, anger causing his voice to shake.

“I told you I did.”

“Then why did it go through?”

“Queen Adella insisted, or there would be no Alliance.”

Cole’s anger did not abate, but he broke eye contact with the King, not knowing where to place the rampant emotion. He picked up a paper weight, and made to throw it, but changed his mind at the last minute slamming it back on the desk. He slumped back into his chair, closing his eyes. “You’re a slagging ashpan. You know that?” Cole said without emotion.

“Yes,” the King replied, and lowered himself with dignity to his seat. “Yes, I am.”

Cole didn’t know what to do as the years of pent up anger diffused, no one to channel it at except himself. It had clouded how he saw his father, and the kingdom; everything really. Although the King still deserved the title of royal clinker head, he just couldn’t be angry with the man without being angry at himself, because he was just as much to blame for outcomes and situations as the King.

“I don’t want to be king,” Cole finally said.

“I know, son,” the King said sympathetically and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “You were never meant to be, but you’re going to do a better job than me, or even Morgan if he were alive.”

“How can you say that?” Cole sat forward, an errant flash of anger over Morgan’s death spontaneously erupting. Old habits were going to die hard.

With a weary sigh the King lowered his head and shook it. “The world is changing, Cole. Arborea is changing, and I’m afraid neither Morgan nor I was ready to change with it. You, son…are just what Arborea needs.” The King sat back again, and rubbed his blood shot eyes. Cole simply stared, not sure he believed the conversation he was having with his father.