The House Of Gaian

should have!” The baron finally looked up, confusion and defiance in his face. “He wasn’t expecting an attack. He didn’t have that many men gathered at his estate. Certainly not enough to defeat my men.”
    “But he did have enough men.”
    “He didn’t! Even with those Fae helping him, he didn’t. He wasn’t prepared for an attack. We would have captured him or killed him if...” The baron swallowed hard. “If it hadn’t been for that wind.”
    “A wind that was able to defeat three hundred men.” Adolfo put just enough skepticism in his voice to sting, even though the storm raging outside was sufficient testimony that the witches in this cursed land were far stronger than any he’d encountered in Wolfram or Arktos. “A wind killed three hundred men.”
    He had questioned the one man who had escaped the slaughter and managed to make his way back to his home county. Had questioned him carefully. A huge funnel of wind that consumed everything in its path. A controlled funnel of wind. The spot in his lower back that always turned cold when he was afraid felt icy now.
    The baron looked away. “I lost my son, my heir . That wind killed him.”
    And that would be the punishment. The baron hadn’t yet considered what the loss of those other men would mean to the farms and villages in his county, wouldn’t think of the cost of those lives until his steward made the trip to collect the tithes that filled the baron’s pockets. Those pockets would be less full this year. He would insist that the tithe be lowered for every family that had lost a father or a son because of this ill-conceived attack as a compensation for the loss of a worker in his prime. That loss of income would be a punishment, too. But the son, the heir ...

    Adolfo drew on his Inquisitor’s Gift of persuasion, let it roll through his voice, turning the mildly spoken words into whiplashes on the heart. “That wind didn’t kill your son. You did.”
    The baron’s head snapped up, his eyes full of shock ... and a kernel of anger.
    “ You decided to attack the Baron of Willowsbrook on your own instead of waiting for the rest of the army. You sent your heir to lead the men who died without considering all the enemies that might be waiting for you there. You ignored the dangers in order to indulge in some childish rivalry with the other barons. You wanted to be the first to encounter the enemy, to defeat the enemy, to be praised for your courage, to be envied for your vigor. Because of your willfulness, you sent those men to their deaths.
    And you killed your heir.”
    The baron wept silently, his kernel of anger crushed under the weight of persuasion.
    Watching him, Adolfo felt nothing but contempt. “And because of your recklessness,” he continued, “
    they’re aware of the army now.” The storm raging outside was confirmation of that. “We no longer have the advantage of swiftness or surprise. Men will die, fighting for ground we should have conquered with ease. Because of you.”
    “I’m sorry,” the baron whispered. “I—”
    Adolfo turned and walked out the terrace door, walked into the storm. Fury grew inside him, and his desire to punish was more excessive than prudent.
    It wasn’t just that men were going to die. Wolfram men were going to die. The army led by the Arktos barons was expendable. So was the army led by the Sylvalan barons from the east and south.
    Distractions to split the enemy’s strength. A bonus if either army actually made it around the north or south ends of the Mother’s Hills and threatened the midlands. But this army came from Wolfram, came from his people. There would be losses. He knew that. Now there would be more. They knew he was coming, knew his army was aimed at Willowsbrook and the hills beyond Willowsbrook.
    He didn’t know how Liam had managed to persuade the Fae to join the fight, and he didn’t like the fact that those creatures were suddenly paying attention to the human world. Bad enough that Ubel had encountered them the first time he’d gone to Breton, but if they were actually joining forces with the Sylvalan barons who dared to defy him ...
    He shuddered. There had been no mention of a black-haired woman riding a dark horse. There had been no sign of her around Willowsbrook. With so much death in one place, someone would have seen the Gatherer if she had returned to this part of Sylvalan.
    Perhaps he should change the place of attack anyway. Swing around the county