Summers at Castle Auburn (3 page)

On the instant, I had stripped my own necklace from around my throat. It was a flat, heavy piece, a gift from Elisandra, and I rarely went without it. “Oh, Bryan, please, would you wear my necklet? I'll wear the wristband—I don't mind.”

Kent turned on me impatiently. “You shouldn't have to—”

But Bryan interrupted. “I will be glad to,” he said in a stiff voice, and made me a small, formal bow. “I will accept the loan of the lady's favor. I would not want to deprive her of the pleasures of our sojourn into the forest.”

I was instantly suffused with relief and exultation. Bryan to wear my necklace! And to return it, alive with the scent of his body! I had never been so happy to lend an object in my life. He even allowed me to fasten the chain about his neck, stooping a little so that I could close the clasp under the fall of his red hair. When he straightened, he bowed a second time, a little more fluidly.

“My thanks, kind lady,” he said, and gave me the smallest smile.

I turned back to Kent, who fastened the band around my arm. The gold felt sleek and rich against my skin, though the hinge scraped unpleasantly against my wristbone. I twisted it to a more comfortable position and gave Kent a blinding smile. He shook his head and grinned slightly in response.

Jaxon swung back to the ground, a most sardonic expression on his face. “Well, that's all nicely settled, then,” he said. “Can we continue on with our journey?”

And then a most unexpected voice spoke up, slightly apologetic but more than a little ironic. “Sorry, noble sirs and lady,” Roderick
said, “but I didn't come equipped with gold. It hasn't come my way that often,” he added, and I could have sworn I saw a hint of laughter in his hazel eyes.

I turned on him, reproof on my face and tears starting to overrun my eyes. “Oh, Roderick!” I cried, using his name for the first time. “How could you not tell us till now?”

He shrugged. “The king will not care so much if I'm snatched by the aliora,” he said. “I don't mind risking the ride into the forest unprotected.”

But Jaxon was rooting through his saddlebags again. “Nonsense, I came prepared to reap a bountiful harvest,” he said, and pulled out a second shackle. He held it out to Roderick with a huge grin on his face. “Now you too can be a slave in the service of Coriel,” he said. “I trust it doesn't offend your sensibilities.”

Roderick was grinning back as he snapped the fetter in a most businesslike way about his wrist. “I have none to offend, sir,” he said. “Thank you kindly.”

Jaxon swept the whole group with one comprehensive look. “Any more surprises?” he demanded. We all shook our heads. “All right, then! Into the forest!”

The track into the woods was much narrower than the road we had followed so far, though wide enough for two to ride abreast. Bryan, of course, waited for no one; he was the brave young prince, he wanted to show us all the way. Jaxon grinned and guided his horse in next. I found Kent beside me as I first rode into the green shadows of the wood.

“So how are you enjoying yourself so far?” he asked, ducking a little to avoid a low-hanging branch.

“Oh, it's wonderful! Better than I had even hoped! Three days with—” I stopped abruptly and shot him a sideways look.

“Three days without hearing the dulcet tones of Lady Greta,” he completed suavely. “Yes, I can see where that would improve your life somewhat.”

“I don't blame her for not liking me,” I said fairly. “But to tell you the truth, I don't think she likes anyone except Elisandra.”

“That's because producing Elisandra was the most significant
thing she'd done in her entire life,” Kent said with an edge of cynicism. “A Halsing daughter! She'd fulfilled her destiny.”

This made no sense to me. “Why would she be so interested in bearing a Halsing daughter?”

“Because men of the royal family traditionally marry women of the Halsing line. It has happened for generations. And with Jaxon himself so adamant against marrying, it fell to Greta and your father to perform that particular duty.” He looked at me again, a sleepy smile in his gray eyes. “And then, who could believe the luck? Your father produced
two
daughters.”

I could not restrain my laughter. Jaxon glanced back at me but did not pause to ask what the joke was. “Oh, yes, the royal court was glad to learn the news about
me
,” I exclaimed. “I'm exactly the sort of bride they were looking for.”

“Don't tell me it wouldn't be a dream come true,” Kent said, still smiling. “All the girls are mad for Bryan.”

“Bryan is betrothed,” I said a little breathlessly. “It does not matter who else adores him.”

“Bryan has always been a little willful,” Kent said dryly. “It is hard to gauge how heavily his betrothal weighs on him.”

I frowned. “What? What do you mean?” But quickly thinking it over, I understood, and frowned more severely. “Don't say such things! You are unkind to Bryan—you and Jaxon both. You tease him when you know it will only stir up his temper.”

“It is true he has a temper, but neither of us deliberately tries to rouse it,” Kent said a little more sharply than I expected. “He is to be the king, after all. He should learn to guard his emotions a little more closely.”

“Like you, I suppose,” I said in a huff. “
You're
never edgy or out of sorts.”

He grinned lazily. “I am, all of the time. There is much about the way the world is ordered that does not please me at all. But I think it foolish to vent my displeasure on every poor soul who happens to cross my path.”

“Bryan does not vent—”

He flung up a hand for peace. “And Bryan is still young. I am three years older than he, and I have learned some calm in those years. Perhaps by the time he weds your sister and takes his crown, he will be ready to be a good king—still quick in temper, but quick in thought, too, and moved to easy generosity. He has a great deal of energy, which a king needs. What he lacks is the means to control it. But that may come with time.”

I gave him another sideways look, this one more considering. He was, after all, so close to the throne himself. “Do you wish you had been named king instead?” I asked him outright. Greta says I am rude; Grandmother says I have no guile. I suppose they mean the same thing. “Your father is regent for Bryan—do you wish he was regent for you?”

He looked straight ahead at the path before him. “You realize that if something were to happen to Bryan before he bore an heir, I
would
be king—my father abdicated all hope of the throne when he agreed to be regent. So do I wish I was to be king? That is not the question I ask myself. I ask myself, Would I be a good king? Would
I
be quick-witted and generous of spirit and full of that boundless energy? Or would I be clumsy and stupid and dulled by my own prejudices? I try to be a good
man
, since I am alive at all, and hope that that teaches me what I would need to know if I was ever faced with a higher challenge. Some days I am more successful at it than others.”

I did no such thing as sit there with my mouth open, though I may as well have, since I felt as if my mind was gaping. It had simply never occurred to me to wonder what kind of person I was, what kind of person I wanted to be. I had not envisioned this as something I had any control over, just as I could not alter the round shape of my face or the dense black curl of my hair. If I wanted to be angelic and sweet-tempered, could I achieve that? I thought my grandmother would laugh if I mentioned such a notion to her.

Now Kent was watching me. “I didn't mean to silence you completely,” he said. “Or are you trying to keep from saying I have made no headway at all?”

I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs and grinned up at him. “I was wondering if I could turn myself into someone Greta would like,” I said with a laugh. “Who could I model myself after?”

“Lady Greta herself,” he suggested. “She seems tolerably well pleased with her own personality.”

“No, if I wanted to be like anyone, it would be Elisandra,” I said.

But now Kent, unexpectedly, had turned sober. “I would not take Elisandra for my model if I were you,” he said.

I was completely taken aback. “What? Why not?” He only shook his head in answer. I exclaimed, “I thought you admired her!”

“More than anyone I know, perhaps. But that does not mean I think you should try to be her.”

“Why not?” I said again, and this time he replied, giving me a small, crooked smile that did not make him seem happy in the least.

“Perhaps it is because I like you the way you are.”

That did not seem like the truthful answer, but before I could press him again, Bryan called out a warning of bad trail ahead. Jaxon immediately swung off his horse and pushed ahead of Bryan to examine the track before us.

“I think we'll be on foot before long,” Kent said. “Just as well. The way seems to be getting narrower all the time.”

And, indeed, ten minutes later when we resumed our journey, we were all dismounted and Jaxon was in the lead. The way was rough with exposed roots and the occasional bramble, not to mention unexpected patches of mud, but I did not really mind. I had spent plenty of time on trails like this, hunting herbs with my grandmother. However, I made sure I did not fall too many paces behind Kent, and glanced behind me now and then to see if Damien and Roderick were still nearby. Damien had his eyes trained on the ground and looked comprehensively miserable. Roderick—who caught my glance every time I looked his way—grinned and nodded encouragement. Despite the fact that he had scarcely spoken this whole day, I found myself liking him just for the cheerfulness of his face.

We continued in this way for more than an hour before Jaxon
called another halt to rest. This time, there was even less conversation than before, except when Roderick asked Jaxon how much longer we would continue.

“Another two hours, I would think,” my uncle replied. “We should stop before nightfall and take a little time to make camp. No use exhausting ourselves before we've reached our destination.”

“I know you brought provisions,” the guardsman said, “but the woods are full of game. Would you like fresh meat?”

Jaxon eyed him speculatively. “We're making a considerable noise with our passage,” he said. “I doubt there's any game for three miles all around us.”

“Well, if I see something, then,” Roderick said, and let it go.

Soon enough, we were back on our feet and back on the trail. I was tired enough by this time that I would not have minded dropping to the mud, curling up in a small ball, and sleeping right there in the middle of the trail. But Jaxon forged on ahead, and we all followed. I watched my feet and tried not to think about feather beds.

I glanced back less often during this stretch of the journey, but when I did, Roderick was missing. I halted my horse and waited for Damien to catch up.

“Where is he? Did he fall? Should we go back?”

Damien shook his head as if he were almost too exhausted to speak. “Hunting,” he said breathlessly. “Said he'd catch up.”

“What if we lose him?”

Damien shrugged. “He seems,” he said in a thin voice, “able to care for himself.”

I hesitated, still troubled, and wondered whether I ought to call out for Jaxon. But Damien nudged me forward. “They're gaining ground,” he said, and I wearily set myself in motion again. Roderick would be fine, I knew it; just looking at him you could see his easy competence. It was just that I would not want to be alone in these woods myself. I did not want to abandon anyone else to such a wretched fate.

Roderick still had not caught up with us by the time Jaxon
mercifully called a halt. It was some hours before nightfall, but he had come across a shallow clearing not far from the trail, wide enough for us to build a fire and pitch three tents.

“Time to make camp,” he said. “Where's Roderick?”

“Hunting, Damien says,” I replied.

That caught Bryan's attention. “Hunting!
I
could have caught us some game if we needed more provisions.”

“I think he was just bored,” Kent said gently. “He's a country man. Used to rougher land than this.”

“Well, he's supposed to be guarding me. How can he guard me if he's off somewhere looking for game?”

I couldn't help myself, I smiled at my prince. “But Bryan, he knows your sword is as good as his,” I said earnestly, and I meant it. “He knew he didn't have to be worried for you.”

“Well,” Bryan said, mollified a little, “he probably won't catch anything this afternoon. Not with all the noise we've made.”

“Doesn't matter,” Jaxon said practically. “We'll need a fire anyway. Who wants to gather firewood and who wants to pitch tents? And who wants to dig a pit for garbage?”

It was clear by the expression on Bryan's face that he didn't think the prince should have to do any of these tasks, but since it was clear from Jaxon's voice that everyone would have to do something, he made his choice. “I'll build the fire,” he said.