Prin, who would now revert to being Princess Hannah, said, “We don’t do things like that. Not where I come from.”
The farmer glanced at the soldiers resting along the road. “What about them?”
Hannah laughed and poked a finger at Brice’s ribs. “If they try, they’ll have to go through my brother and me.”
“You don’t know them,” the farmer said, his eyes falling to the deer.
“And you don’t know Hannah,” Brice said, using that name for the first time as he stood. “Help me get it over my shoulders, and I’ll carry it.”
Brice managed to get the deer centered without help, then held one forefoot and one rear foot to keep it balanced. He walked beside the farmer, and before long both of them were talking, but Hannah couldn’t hear what they said because of the distance. She saw Brice throw his head back and laugh, and almost stumble, but the farmer helped him regain his balance.
Hannah realized that in a short conversation with the young man she had decided to use her real name and challenge anyone who was coming after her instead of hiding. The name was like a banner in front of a bull. Come and get me, if you can.
But thinking about names also brought up another idea. With the importance of using her name, she had forgotten to ask the farmer his.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hannah sat and watched Brice carry the farmer’s deer down the slope and to the house, and when the door opened, an older version of the young man walked into the yard and shook Brice’s hand before taking the deer to the barn for slaughter. Hannah felt satisfied for the first time in a long while. No, not exactly satisfied, but whole. Yes. Whole.
Hannah was whole. Since fleeing Wren with the Young Mage on her tail, she felt scared and intimidated. For five years she’d played the part of a fleeing victim and used another name. It had probably been the right thing to do, but for the entire time, she hadn’t felt right. Being called Prin had always jarred her. She’d never really accepted the name in her mind. She had always been Hannah.
When she stood, her legs and back still hurt, but her impression of herself soared. She stood taller. She was Princess Hannah.
The general said, “You look happy.”
“I am.”
“The major suggested we use that deer to feed our men.”
Hannah held back her thoughts, and she considered the words she should use before letting her mouth cause more problems. The general was making a suggestion and seemed to agree with his major. “Sir, that deer belongs to the farmer so he can feed his family. I see two hundred men with weapons under your command. Are you telling me that none of them is capable of using those weapons to kill a defenseless animal so we might eat?”
He drew himself up. “You don’t understand …”
“No, you do not understand. That farmer expected you to steal his deer and for his family to go hungry because of you. Look around. You are not losing a war, you’re losing the support of a kingdom. Peermont cannot survive like this, no matter what Ansel does. That farmer down there probably hopes Ansel wins the war because those troops are not stealing his crops and animals.”
His face reddened, and the anger became clear. “I am a general in the Royal Army of King Edward, and nobody speaks to me that way.”
“I am a member of that royalty you mentioned. I can and will speak to you that way since you have sworn to support me and my relative, the King. Now, clear the mush from your mind and pay attention. You have lost the support of your people.”
“The military has the right to commandeer what we need in the war effort.”
“What you cannot commandeer is the support of that farmer and others. You have taken nearly all he has, and you want more. He has lost his mother, seen his crops seized by you, his animals slaughtered, and his family grows hungry. He does not want war, doesn’t care who is the King and has nothing left to pay the taxes. He knows you will take and sell his farm in the near future . . . unless Alsel wins. In that case, things might improve.”
“The cost of war.”
“The price of arrogance,” Hannah snapped. “Even if the troops from Ansel return home today, your King has lost his kingdom. Open your eyes.”
The general trembled with fury, his hands shook, and the veins stood out on his neck. But he clamped his mouth shut and marched back to where the other officers rested. Hannah watched him depart and allowed her breath to slowly whistle between lips that shuddered in anger.
What am I doing? He was not the problem. The general was trying to help her.
But that thought didn’t calm her. The world had gone insane. Ansel fought a war over lowlands nobody wanted, and Peermont defended them. Sure, the lands were the entrance to the Peermont River valley, but why start a war over it? Then, to make matters worse, her cousin, Elenore, demanded to be crowned Queen of Wren. She had all the gold and servants she could use—and more. But she had to be Queen.
And Hannah had to oppose her. Or, did she?
Maude would welcome her back if she abdicated and returned to Gallium. Elenore could rule Wren and have it. Peermont could defend itself—or not. The world didn’t depend on the choices Hannah made. She was still in her teens and knew little of the world, but knew she didn’t like what she saw today.
Politics were never a desire or subject she could master. After endless hours of study of battles and wars with the combat master, she often shrugged and said something like, “They never should have fought in the first place,” or “They should have talked and settled their differences.”
But now she was the one who might prevent people from dying. It was within her power. Or, better said, it would be in her power if she managed to wear the crown.
Within those few thoughts, a course of action took hold. When broken down to basics, Hannah could make her world a better place if she were Queen. It was that simple.
Brice had returned and spoke with General Case as she watched. Probably warning him not to come around me.
But Brice never did take advice well. He walked in her direction. She waited. He wouldn’t ask what happened. That wasn’t like him. No, he’d talk about something else and wait until she wanted to talk.
“The men are tired. We’re staying here long enough for some to catch a nap, and I think I may do the same.” He slipped his backpack off and let it fall heavily to the grass beside her. He was asleep within seconds.
Hannah closed her eyes, but stray thoughts kept intruding. Finally, she brushed a persistent fly from her nose and sat. What if King Edward will not give me an audience?
She closed her eyes and considered what else he might do, or not do. He might take her into custody and turn her over to Elenore, especially if they had a prior relationship. He might listen and ignore her words. How could she plan what to say when she knew so little about the King?
A sergeant moved among the men strewn along the road, and they began standing and gathering their belongings. A private approached respectfully, leading the three horses. He bowed as he held out the reins.
“Thank you, private.”
He beamed and hurried back to take his place with the rest as if her three words had placed a crown upon his head. He might someday tell his grandchildren sitting upon his knee of this day. Hannah looked inward again as she began to understand power.
Brice woke and silently climbed on his horse, his eyes never meeting hers. The general joined them, and the three fell into place in the long line of soldiers. Power also means you’re alone.