Beyond the High Road (33 page)

“I’m sorry, Princess. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Tanalasta cocked her brow. “Really? Then you are prepared to assert your judgment over that of the Goddess?”

“Of course not, but if you are speaking of your vision, how are we to know I am the one?”

“I know,” Tanalasta replied. “And so do you.”

Rowen looked torn and said nothing.

“Certainly, there will be those who resent my choice,” Tanalasta said, sensing an opportunity to win him over, “but that would be true no matter who I chose. If I picked a Silversword, the Emmarasks would be angry. If I picked an Emmarask, the Truesilvers would disapprove. If I picked a Truesilver, the Hawklins would gossip, and anyone I choose will be a slight to the Marliirs. In the end, I can only follow my heart and take the man I desire, one I know to be honest, loyal, and trustworthy-and that man, Rowen, is you.”

“Even if it costs you the crown?” he asked. “And though it does not, even if it costs you the loyalty of the great nobles?”

Tanalasta shrugged. “You are only one of the choices I have made that may cost me the throne-but they are my choices to make, and I am happy to live with the consequences.” She gave him a steady gaze. “If the crown is to rest on my head, having the strength of your character at my side will far outweigh the loss of a noble family’s shifting loyalties.”

Rowen considered this for a moment, then asked, “But how many of those families can one man be worth?” He shook his head. “Surely, not even half of them. It is well and good for a royal to make her own choices, but she must not be blind to the trouble that follows. People will think of me as no better than Aunadar Bleth, taking advantage of your good nature to restore my family’s standing-and the crown will be the weaker for it.”

“Is your opinion of me that low?” Tanalasta demanded. “Do you assume people think me capable of attracting only frauds and sycophants?”

Rowen’s face went white. “That’s not what I mean to-“

“What else could you mean? Perhaps it’s just as well we haven’t pursued this further.” Tanalasta pointed toward the horizon. “There is the gulch, Rowen. Go and see if it has any water for us.”

The mare neighed three sharp times and scraped at the ground, nearly crushing Vangerdahast’s foot when one of her hooves caught him across the instep. He cursed and jerked on the reins, forcing her head down below the height of his chest.

Owden Foley raised a restraining hand. “Gently, my friend. She has been through a lot.”

“And she will go through a lot more, if she doesn’t start making sense,” Vangerdahast growled. “Tell her that.”

Owden scowled his disapproval. “I don’t think-“

“Tell her,” Vangerdahast ordered. “Perhaps it will clear her thoughts.”

Owden sighed, but turned back to the horse and began to neigh and nicker. The horse’s ears flattened, and she fixed a single round eye on Vangerdahast’s face.

He narrowed his own eyes and raised his lip in a snarl. The mare looked away and began a quick succession of nickers, punctuated every now and then by a sharp whinny or a neighed question from Owden. When the conversation finally ended, Owden nodded and patted the beast’s neck reassuringly.

“Well?” Vangerdahast demanded.

“I coaxed a little more out of her, but horses don’t remember the same way we do.” Owden took the reins from Vangerdahast’s hands. “All she can tell us is that the ghazneths have been hunting her since ‘the dawn before the dawn.’”

“And?” Vangerdahast glared at the priest.

Owden slipped between him and the mare. “And that the princess is gone with ‘her stallion.’”

“Her stallion?” Vangerdahast fumed. “What, exactly, does she mean by that?”

The ‘gulch’ turned out to be a winding riverbed filled with more willows than water, but there was a tiny ribbon of creek meandering along beneath the bluffs on the far side, and Tanalasta could hear the horses sloshing through its silty currents, doing their best to slurp the rivulet dry. She was kneeling atop a slender tongue of high ground, churning a pile of rotting leaves into a small plot of dirt she was preparing for a faith planting. Though dead-tired from the day’s walk, the work kept her mind off Rowen, and it was well worth the effort to slow her whirling thoughts.

The princess was more disappointed in him than angry. She knew better than anyone what people thought of her. Many nobles-perhaps most-would accuse Rowen of taking advantage of her gullible nature. But they would think the same no matter who she chose. The only way to change their minds was to be patient and prove them wrong through good conduct, her own and that of her chosen. She was hurt not because Rowen had pointed out how people would perceive their relationship, but because he lacked faith in her to change their minds. If he did not trust her to succeed, how could she trust herself?

Tanalasta pulled a fist-sized stone from the ground and turned to set it aside at the edge of her plot, where she found a pair of soft-leathered ranger boots standing beside her. Biting back a cry of surprise, she placed the stone with the others, then spoke without looking up.

“Come to tell me I mustn’t think poorly of you?” Tanalasta crumpled a handful of decaying leaves between her hands, sprinkling them over the surface of her plot. “Or have you decided to chase that holding after all?”

“I suppose I deserve that.” Rowen kneeled beside her and began to work a handful of leaves into humus. “The truth is, I’ve come to apologize. I spoke like a narrow-minded popinjay.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to disagree.”

“No. When I said those things, I was being a coward. I was thinking only of myself-of how your favor would affect my reputation.”

“You said you were thinking of the crown,” Tanalasta reminded him.

Rowen shrugged. “Perhaps I was thinking of both-or perhaps I was not thinking at all. Either way, I was wrong. It is not my place to decide what is best for the crown. I pray you can forgive me.”

Tanalasta sank her fingers into the dirt, turning it over and churning the leaf-humus into the soil. As honest and humble as Rowen’s apology was, it did little to quell her anger. He had said nothing about having faith in her ability to win her subjects’ confidence, and what future could she have with a man who did not believe in her?

“Thank you for clarifying matters, Rowen.” Tanalasta’s voice was sarcastic. “I was afraid that in making a fool of myself, I had also conveyed to you the duties of my station.”

“Now you are twisting my words, Princess.” Rowen’s face was growing stormy. “I came here to say I agree with you. Why do you refuse to listen?”

“I have been listening.” Tanalasta started to suggest she had not liked what she heard, then thought better of such an acid remark and shook her head. “I don’t see the point in continuing this, Rowen. Maybe you should leave.”

Rowen stared at her in disbelief for a long time, then dumped the humus in his hands and stood. “If you wish.”

“It…” Recalling that dawn tomorrow would probably be the last time she ever saw him, Tanalasta almost said it wasn’t what she wanted-but what good would that do? He still didn’t believe in her. She summoned her resolve and said, “It is.”

Rowen turned to leave, then suddenly stopped. “No.”

More confused than upset, Tanalasta looked up. “No?”

The scout spun on his heel and pulled her to her feet. “The point, Tanalasta, is this.”

He kissed her hard, folding her into his arms so tightly that he lifted her off the ground. The princess was too astonished to be outraged. She had been imagining a moment like this almost since she met Rowen, and he chose now to take matters into his own hands? His timing was typically, wretchedly male-yet Tanalasta’s body responded just as fiercely as it had at the goblin keep. A sensation of joyous yearning shot through her from lips to loins, and she wondered how such a powerful feeling could be anything but a portent from the goddess. Before she knew it, her hands were at his waist, pulling him closer, and a feeling of sacred warmth flowed down through her body, dispelling her anger and draining her resolve. She longed to embrace the moment, to run her hands over his body and kindle their passion into full flame, but she could not release herself to carnal abandon yet-not while her mind remained so at odds with her heart.

Tanalasta slipped a hand between them and pushed against Rowen’s chest. The ranger kissed her more deeply, running one hand up to her breast and filling her with waves of seething pleasure. She closed her eyes for a single heartbeat, then bit his lip-a little harder than necessary to make him stop-and managed to push him away.

“Rowen!” Tanalasta’s voice had more passion and less anger in it than she would have liked. She gulped down a breath, then gasped, “What was the meaning of that?”

“I think you know.” Rowen touched a finger to his bleeding lip, then gave her a lean and hungry look. “I wasn’t thinking of the crown princess, but of the woman I’ve come to know and love.”

“Love?” The word did not feel as hollow as Tanalasta had expected-in fact, it felt all too comfortable. She eyed him warily. “You are the one who has been worried about the effect on the crown. What are we going to do about that?”

Rowen shrugged and shook his head. “I truly don’t know, and I can’t honestly say I care-as long as you protect me from Vangerdahast.” His tone was only half-joking. “I don’t fancy living out my life as a toad.”

Tanalasta looked at him a long time, giving her mind time to come to the same conclusion her heart had already reached. The princess knew him too well to believe the ranger had suddenly forgotten his oath to the crown. He had simply come to the same conclusion she had reached a long time ago.

Tanalasta smiled. “If you think I can protect you from Vangerdahast, you must be love-stricken!” She grabbed Rowen by the front of his cloak and pulled his face close to hers. “But I have read that a princess may kiss any toad she wishes.”

She licked the blood off his lip, then slipped her tongue into his mouth and gave him a long, burning kiss. He responded in kind, dipping her over backward and gently lowering her to the ground. Tanalasta pressed herself against him, reveling in the waves of desire shuddering through her body. His hands roamed over her shoulders and breasts at will, igniting little blossoms of heat wherever they went, and the last shadow of doubt vanished from her mind. Rowen was the man of her vision. She could tell by the way her flesh came alive at his touch, and she wanted never to be apart from him.

She pulled her lips away from his long enough to run a fevered line of kisses up his neck, then whispered, “Rowen

” She had to stop to catch her breath. “We need a plan.”

“I have one.”

He loosened her belt, then ran a hand up the bare skin beneath her tunic. She shivered in delight and let her eyes roll back, feeling as though she would black out from sheer pleasure.

“No…”

When Rowen’s hand hesitated, she grabbed his wrist through her tunic and guided his palm to her naked breast.

“I mean yes,” she gasped. “But what about the future?”

Rowen’s fingers grew still. “I still can’t take you with me.” He started to withdraw his hand-then stopped when Tanalasta clamped her elbow across his arm. A wanton smile came to his lips, but-somehow-he managed to keep his mind off his desire long enough to say, “There’s no telling how long it will take to find Vangerdahast, and-“

“And I must show the king what I’ve found as soon as possible-I know.” Tanalasta reached for his belt and began to fumble with the buckle. She was so nervous-or was it excited?-that her hands were trembling. “How do you get this thing off?”

“Just like yours.”

Rowen arched his back to give her a better angle, and the prong finally came out of the hole. Tanalasta grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted it to his shoulders. Her stomach filled with butterflies, and she decided she was the luckiest princess in Faeriin. She leaned over and kissed her way up toward his neck.

Rowen moaned softly, then fell silent and still. For a moment, Tanalasta feared she had done something wrong-or, recalling her own trembling hands, thought perhaps he’d grown too excited too quickly (having read in Miriam Buttercake’s Treatise on Good Wifery that men sometimes suffered such disappointments), but that turned out not to be the case. As suddenly as he had fallen quiet, Rowen pulled her mouth to his and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

When he finished, he looked deeply into her eyes and said, “There is one thing that even kings and queens may not dictate, that only we may control.”

Tanalasta nodded eagerly. “I know.”

She started to pull her tunic off over her head, but Rowen caught her arm.

“No. I mean there is a way to stop them from keeping us apart-but only if you are sure about risking your crown.”

Tanalasta did not even hesitate. “I’m thirty-six years old. If I can’t make a decision by now, what kind of queen would I be anyway?”

Rowen smiled, then rolled to his knees and picked up the seed bag that lay beside the plot of ground she had been preparing. He pulled a single columbine seed from inside and placed it in his open palm. Tanalasta stared at the kernel for a long time. She was more nervous than ever, with her pulse rushing in her ears and her heart fluttering up into her throat.

Finally, she gathered her wits and asked, “The Seed Ceremony?”

Rowen nodded. “If you will have me.”

Tanalasta rose to her own knees. “Are you doing this for me-or for the realm?”

“Neither.” Rowen continued to hold the seed in his palm. “I am doing it for me.”

The rushing sound vanished from Tanalasta’s ears, and her heart settled back down into her chest where it belonged. “Good answer.”

She placed her palm over the seed in Rowen’s hand, and they began the invocation. “Bless us, O Chauntea, as we bless this seed, that all we nurture may grow healthy and strong.”

With their free hands, Tanalasta and Rowen dug a single small hole in the plot she had prepared, then the princess grabbed her waterskin and dampened the soil.

“We prepare this bed with love and joy,” Rowen said.

Together, they placed the seed in the hole and covered it with dirt.