Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 51: Justice

The convent grew in size.

Soldiers arrived in waves, carrying tins of preserved fish and weapons that gleamed in the winter sunshine. They had to prop up tents on the frozen lawn; the convent began to expand, like a wild sea overrunning its borders. Every night, fiddle music drifted up from the encampment, along with the sound of roaring laughter. Isolde caught the younger girls at the convent pressing their faces up to the window after evening prayers, whispering with wide-eyed excitement as the soldiers drank from their tankards.

And there were a lot of soldiers, Isolde thought; at least a thousand men had arrived over the last week. But it wasn't enough.

Not nearly.

"How many today?" Isolde asked.

She was picking at her rye bread. The breakfast room was a buzz of activity; girls jostled each other for mugs, bickering over who got to take a breakfast tea out to the handsome young captain of the Fourth Dragoon. No smoked salmon this morning, Isolde noted, glancing at the breakfast bar; the food shortages were growing worse.

Across the table, Edgar sketched figures on a napkin.

"Just shy of two thousand troops," Edgar announced.

Isolde tore the bread into chunks. "How many more are we expecting?"

"Depends," Devan said.

"On what?"

Devan exchanged a glance with his brother. "On how many of them survived Halson."

Isolde looked to Axel. The Winterthorpe patriarch — and the fourth member of their unlikely quartet — was currently reading a newspaper. She'd learned that this was Axel's code for "leave-me-the-hell-alone-until-I've-had-my-coffee." Which, you know. Fair.

Isolde braced her elbows against the table. "Is there anyone else we can write to? A captain overseas? Or retired soldiers that might be willing to fight again?"

"A few," Devan allowed. "But none that I can guarantee their loyalty. The rest have always fought for us as a collective."

"You're worried they're loyal to Roberge," Isolde observed.

Devan nodded. Edgar muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "that ducking little traitor."

Isolde clasped her hands. "Alright. Don't write to them, then. Best not to give our location away to anyone we don't trust."

Although it could be too late for that. Isolde looked around the room. There were... what? A hundred girls in the convent? And a couple thousand soldiers outside? Halson had tripled the bounty on her head last week, and it only took one person to give the game away.

If they hadn't already.

Isolde stirred her tea. Most of the soldiers had to pass through local villages to come this way. And while the captains had assured her their squadrons had been careful, it didn't take a genius to work out where they must be going.

No.

Halson would come soon. Which meant they had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Isolde turned to Edgar. "You've been readying the ships?"

Edgar nodded, biting in a roasted potato. "They're just off the coast." Bits sprayed down his chin. "They can reach us within a day."

Isolde held out a napkin. "How many?"

"Fifty."

Isolde's stomach sunk. They wouldn't even need that many. Her experience of nautical warfare was limited, but she knew that a ship could hold a hundred men. They'd need twenty ships at most.