The Betrayal (37 page)

She led him downstream, away from the others. When they were well past the horses, she paused and for a moment stood gazing eastward toward the road and the Silverwash.

“Turisan has asked me to be handfasted with him.”

All the world seemed to stand still. Luruthin scarcely dared breathe, his mind trying to deny what he had heard. Eliani looked at him, her expression apologetic.

“I—have agreed.”

He stared at her even as she turned to look again at the river. She did not seem joyful. He swallowed, trying to command his voice.

“W-why?”

She gave a soft laugh and closed her eyes. “Because it is inevitable.”

“I thought … you have not …”

“I am sorry if this hurts you.”

He put out his hands as if warding off a blow. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with worry. He drew a breath and chose his words carefully.

“You have not hurt me. If I am disappointed, that is my own concern.”

“I thought your feelings had changed long ago.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Ah, Eliani. You never could see what lay at your feet.”

He took a step away, toward the camp. Heard Vanorin call out a command to one of the guardians.

He should have known that Turisan would waste no time. What amazed him was that the Greenglen had induced Eliani, who had been so evasive since her regrettable cup-bond, to agree to handfast.

He turned to look at her. “Eliani, are you sure?”

She smiled wistfully. “Sometimes. When he speaks to me, I am sure.”

He gazed back, suddenly seeing a stranger. She had moved into a world he did not know.

“Your gift has taken you from us. It will carry you far above us all, into the realm of legend.”

Eliani looked down at her dusty boots. “It is a mixed blessing.”

“I can see that.”

He strode a few steps westward, struggling in his heart. Eliani should not suffer because of his disappointed hopes. As her friend, her kindred, and one who cared for her, he should strive to lighten her burdens, not increase them.

The sun was going golden, sinking toward the Ebons. He was reminded of the previous day, when he had stood atop Skyruach with Turisan. Only a day ago.

He cleared his throat. “I do not know what message you gave him after he read the notes from Jharan and Felisan, but the look on his face was unutterable joy.” He drew a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady as he turned back to her. “I w-wish you great happiness, Eliani, and I think you shall have it.”

She made a small dismayed sound, then ran two steps toward him and caught him in a tight hug. Startled, he stood frozen for a moment, then brought up his arms to hold her—lightly, ever so lightly, in case she wished to pull away.

He closed his eyes, inhaling. She smelled of new leather, but beneath was her own familiar scent.

“Thank you.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

Luruthin swallowed, blinking fiercely. He would not grieve, not until he was alone.

When he dared to speak again, he stepped back, suggesting that they rejoin the others. Eliani agreed,
and they returned to the camp, where golden flames were leaping up into the twilight as the party gathered to share the evening meal.

The food was luxurious for trail fare, having been sent by Hallowhall's kitchens, but Luruthin had no appetite. He took some cheese and part of a loaf of soft bread and sat near the fire. Vanorin joined him and offered a small flask. Luruthin sipped from it, savoring mead laced with sunfruit.

“Thank you. A fine brew.”

Vanorin smiled. “My mother's.”

“She could win prizes with that.”

“She has.”

Luruthin nodded, unsurprised. He tore off a piece of bread but could not bring himself to eat it. Instead he stared into the fire, thinking of Eliani. She seemed content, but so had she been with Kelevon at first.

No, she had been blindly smitten with Kelevon. She showed no sign of that now. She was a little older and a good deal wiser. As long as Turisan did right by her, she would be happy.

He glanced around, looking for her, but she was not in sight. Gone into the woods, perhaps, to seek a private place to speak with Turisan.

Vanorin offered the mead again, and Luruthin accepted gratefully, taking a larger swallow. A nighthawk's cry made Vanorin sit up, suddenly alert. A second brought him to his feet.

“What is it?”

“Our sentry. Someone is on the road.”

Stuffing his uneaten bread and cheese into his pouch, Luruthin followed Vanorin up the nearest slope to a crag that afforded a view of the road. A female Greenglen met them and silently pointed out a solitary rider approaching from the north, traveling swiftly. He was
not by looks a Greenglen and probably not a guardian, riding alone and at night.

Where was Eliani? The thought became suddenly urgent, though this single rider could be no threat to her. Luruthin cast a frowning glance back toward the camp.

Vanorin caught his eye and jerked his head downhill, indicating that they should return. Luruthin followed him, keeping silent until they were back beneath the willows.

“A courier, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

“Will you hail him?”

Vanorin nodded. “I will offer him the hospitality of our camp and hope for his news.”

Eliani came toward them as they reached the clearing, to Luruthin's relief. She had her cloak wrapped about her and gave Vanorin an anxious look.

“What is it?”

“A rider on the road. I go to meet him.”

“I will join you.”

“That is not necessary, my l—”

“I did not ask if it was necessary.”

She brushed between Vanorin and Luruthin on her way to the horses. Luruthin met Vanorin's gaze and smiled in spite of himself.

“She has better days.”

Vanorin made no reply, though his face was eloquent. By silent consent, they both followed Eliani down the slope.

They caught their horses and bridled them, not bothering with saddles for the short ride down to the road. By the time they reached it, the rider had come around the bend of the foothills. The horse slowed to a trot as the rider saw them.

Luruthin and Vanorin placed themselves on either side of Eliani. They waited for the rider to reach them, Luruthin noting his appearance as he came closer.

His clothing was of fine make, with a cloak of rich satin, more a court garment than one fit for traveling and somewhat light for early winter. Boots of fine suede, hair in a wild, curling tangle, he had to be a Steppegard.

Luruthin frowned as the stranger brought his horse to a walk and raised a hand in greeting. What was a Steppegard doing here alone? Some messenger from Governor Pashani's court? Had kobalen appeared on their border as well?

His heart began to sink. This could not be good news. He stared at the rider's face, thinking it familiar. Not until a grin flashed across it did he realize he knew this Steppegard. At the same instant he heard Eliani draw a sharp breath beside him.

“Kelevon!”

Eliani's heart roiled with dismay. She had hoped never to meet Kelevon again. Failing that, she had hoped that more than two de cades would have enabled her to meet him calmly, but the sight of his laughing face framed with wild curls at once took her back to Highstone.

To a Midsummer's night when he first had entranced her. To the bewildering year of passion and sorrow that had followed.

Eliani?

Not now.

Is something
—

Not now!

Kelevon's eyes were guarded as he bowed low over his saddle, his smile somewhat fixed. “Eliani. I am delighted to meet you again.”

Vanorin turned his head. “You know this fellow, my lady?”

He was staring at her. They all were staring at her. Eliani felt her cheeks flaming.

“What are you doing here, Kelevon?”

“Governor Othanin sent me with his apologies for being unable to attend the Council.”

She was astonished. “You come from Fireshore?”

He bowed again and threw back his cloak to reveal the sash of gray and orange he wore across one shoulder: Clan Sunriding's colors. Eliani remembered how they had flashed in the sunlight in Davhri's handfasting ribbons, the orange hot amidst the cool gray, blue, and violet.

“Then …”

She looked at Vanorin. He met her glance, then turned to address Kelevon.

“Will you come to our camp and share our evening meal? We would learn your news of Fireshore.”

Kelevon's smile widened, and his eyelids drooped lazily over his golden eyes. “Thank you, but I must make haste to Glenhallow. I prefer to travel at night.”

“Did you meet the couriers Lord Jharan sent to Fireshore?”

Kelevon's gaze shifted to the Southfæld captain. “A party of some six or seven? Korian and the others? Yes, I met them in Alpinon. They continued on, being charged to deliver their message to Governor Othanin and not to me.”

He looked at Eliani expectantly. They were all waiting for her to say something, when all she wanted to do was flee as far as she could get from Kelevon and all the disturbing memories the sight of him had roused. She swallowed.

“Come to our camp for a little while. We must talk.”

Kelevon's mouth curved in a slow smile, a smile she
knew, a smile whose taste she remembered. “Very well, since it is your wish.”

Eliani turned toward the camp. Her horse, perhaps sensing her mood, started to run, and she had to rein it in. Luruthin brought his mount up beside hers.

“I do not trust him.”

She glanced at him, a wry laugh escaping her. “Nor do I, Cousin.”

Luruthin's frown deepened. He moved closer and spoke in nearly a whisper. “He does not honor the creed.”

“We have no cause to doubt him.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kelevon. “No recent cause.”

“Why would Othanin send a single courier to the Council instead of a delegation? It is an insult!”

“Perhaps some crisis prevented Othanin from attending. We must hear what Kelevon has to say.”

They reached the camp and dismounted. Vanorin summoned some of his guardians to see to the horses while he led their guest to the fire. He must have signaled the others to withdraw, for those around the fire arose and left at their approach. Eliani found herself alone with Kelevon, Luruthin, and Vanorin.

She sat and pulled her cloak tightly closed, though she was warm enough. Kelevon, watching her, smiled.

“Allow me to congratulate you, Lady Eliani.”

“For what?” Eliani glanced at him, somewhat alarmed. How much did he know of her?

He looked mildly surprised. “On being confirmed in your majority. Should I congratulate you for something else?”

She looked away, staring into the fire. Vanorin approached with a platter of carved meat, sparing her from answering. Vanorin offered the platter to Kelevon. “Would you have some?”

“Thank you, but no.”

A slight curl of disdain turned Kelevon's mouth. Eliani remembered that expression as well. Her stomach seized tighter.

“Why does Governor Othanin not attend the Council?”

“Pressing matters prevented him from attending.”

Luruthin leaned forward. “What pressing matters?”

Eliani tried to catch his eye and frown him down, but he was intent on Kelevon. In his turn, Kelevon regarded Luruthin with narrowed eyes and a slight smile.

“I cannot say. I am sure the governor's letter explains all.”

“You carry a letter?”

“For Governor Jharan.”

Eliani frowned, blinking as she looked back at the fire. She must tell Turisan of this development. Jharan should know that word finally had come from Fireshore.

She must speak to Turisan. She felt frozen, numb.

“So if you are finished with your questions, I should continue my journey. I had hoped to make Glenhallow to night.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You did not used to be a night-bider.”

He smiled back. “I find that it agrees with me. I much prefer night to day. Something to do with starlight, perhaps.”

Eliani looked away, remembering a soft summer evening they had spent together in a meadow near Highstone. Kelevon had made her laugh with outlandish stories about figures he imagined in the stars—no true constellations, but creatures of his own fancy—and they had made love, over and over.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the
memory. That was over, gone. Kelevon was not her lover, would never be her lover again. She must think of him only as Fireshore's envoy.

Abruptly she stood and glanced at Vanorin. “Please excuse me. I need a few moments.”

Vanorin nodded. Thank the spirits for his calm understanding, she thought as she looked at Luruthin, who plainly seethed with hostility toward Kelevon. Kelevon seemed amused by it, but she knew only too well how Kelevon's mood could suddenly change.

“I will return shortly. Please wait.”

Kelevon shrugged and gave a nod of agreement. She strode away, pulling her cloak close about her as if it could protect her from all harm. Uphill, into the woods, which soon became more dense and jumbled with small bushes. Finding a boulder bathed in starlight, she climbed onto it and sat gazing at the sliver of a moon, trying to calm herself. At last she closed her eyes.