The Still (39 page)

Even that wasn’t enough. The night wind seemed to pierce my blankets, rekindle the fiery frost in my veins. I ought to don fresh clothes, but nothing short of the demons of the lake would thrust me from my covers. I put my icy hands between my legs to thaw them. “See what trouble your damned bathing makes?”

“It wasn’t the ...” A sigh. “You’ll soon feel better.”

The excitement past, the others drifted off to bed, while I lay freezing and miserable under our two bedrolls. Rust donned his cloak, sat close by the fire.

I regarded his back, with mixed emotions. He’d caused my accident, sending me off on a ridiculous errand in the dark. But then, he’d saved me. It canceled out. Well, perhaps if I hadn’t bent to throw that last stone ...

I couldn’t leave him to sit all night. “Crawl under the blanket, Rust; maybe you’ll warm me.”

Silent, he crept behind me, under the outer cover, behind the inner. I shivered. His arms came around, hugged me. “The stream comes down from the top of Fort, where the ice never melts.”

“I wonder why not.” My voice was sleepy.

“The Ritemaster says that in the worst heat of summer’s memory, no man saw Fort without snow.”

“Definitely a Power.” I cuddled his warm arm as a pillow, listened to the throb of his pulse. “I’m glad it was you who saved me.”

Another hour, and I began to feel myself warm. Deliciously drowsy, I dozed to sleep.

Strange dreams, in the night. Mother wagged her finger.
You won’t listen, Roddy. You don’t try hard enough.

Is that why you didn’t show me love?

That time is past.
Her face rippled, dissolved into Chela’s. “This is now, Roddy. You’re clean and manly and brave. Come to me.”

Elryc and Genard snickered behind my back at my chastity. Mother spoke sharply to gain my attention; Chela prevailed. “Come to me, Lord Prince. Come ...”

Not with Elryc watching. I sought a private place. I dreamed I became aroused, and worried who might notice. With maddening insistence, Chela beckoned. I threw aside my unknown Power, went to her, entered her with savage thrusts. “Yes,” she hissed. “Be mine, Prince.”

Coupling, groping, the swift spurts of satiation. She gasped with pleasure, squeezed me tight. “Stay inside me, Roddy. Hold me.” I stroked her breasts, ecstatic that I’d become a man at last. In bliss, I drowsed in her arms, until she faded, and there was nothing but the crackle of the blaze, the stars overhead.

Sticky and content, I wriggled in the aftermath of pleasure, and felt Rustin’s hands resting where they had no right to be.

Taut with alarm, I barely breathed. What had I done? Bad enough he knew of my habits; had I relieved myself in his very embrace? Yet I lay on my side, my hands high, cuddling my pillow; if my flesh had felt caresses, they weren’t my own.

Cautiously, I stirred, dislodged his fingers, inched to the far side of the bedroll, wedged a blanket firmly between us.

In the morning, I wore the blanket as a cloak while I fished through Rustin’s clothes and mine for garments. After, I spread my wet clothing on the cart’s many boxes; perhaps by the morrow they’d be dry. When my eyes caught Rust’s I blushed scarlet, quickly turned away.

We mounted, resumed our interminable journey. I felt the prickle of perspiration each time Rust came near. It wouldn’t do; better to flee back to Fort than continue so. When we paused for food and rest I drew deep breaths, steeled myself, took him to sit aside from the others.

“Last night.” My voice was an accusation.

“It took you a long while to warm. Sorry I didn’t tend to your clothes.”

“That’s not what I speak of.” I waited.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Roddy?”

I couldn’t help blushing anew. “I’m not Chela.”

“Certainly not.” He sat against a tree.

“Don’t play games! You know what you did!”

“Yes, my prince.” His sudden smile that heartened one as the sun after a cloudburst.

“How dare you touch me so!”

“You’re angry.” He pondered, brushing his lips with a twig. “Roddy, you burn. Oh, don’t roll your eyes; it’s plain to see. You’re desperate for relief and the comfort of sharing, and you can’t have it with women.”

I snarled, “What business is it of yours?”

“Would you rather be alone? Until your Power is spent?”

“Yes!” That said, I took breaths, to consider. A pang of remembered bliss washed across my senses. When I’d awakened in his arms I’d felt no shame, until I realized what had passed. Then, I’d gone rigid with fear and dismay. I said, lamely, “It’s my body, not yours!”

“Would you rather I never touch you again?”

“Never like that.” I stood, having endured as much of such conversation as I could.

“Once, long ago, we spoke of such matters. I asked if you couldn’t take a lover into your bed. ‘A cook’s boy?’ you jeered. ‘A sniggering stablehand?’ Roddy, am I no better than those?” It was almost a plea.

“You make me your plaything! You wash me, rebuke me, kiss my forehead. Say you that your advances are for my sake alone?”

He looked away.

Afraid of his response, I couldn’t leave it. “Answer!”

“No, my prince.” His eyes met mine. “Not alone for your sake.” My lips fell agape, and I stood like a village dimwit. He said resolutely, “I take joy in giving you pleasure. You are precious to me.”

“Speak plainly!” I felt every inch the Prince of Caledon. “I command it!”

In one smooth motion he arose, came close. “I enjoy your touch, and touching you. It’s my nature.” His eyes were riveted to mine. “I’ve felt your attraction ever since I was aware of such things.”

“What of Chela? Is she nothing?”

“Chela too. Cannot a man feel for women and prize your beauty?”

I should have been aghast, but his very soul sat in my hands, to dash or preserve. Gently, I said, “Rust ... it isn’t meet. What would Uncle Cumber think if he saw us hand in hand?”

He snorted. “The Earl has eyes only for his valet!”

“He what?” My voice rose to a squeak.

Rust regarded me curiously. “You didn’t know? How could you not?”

“How was I to—”

“It’s hardly a secret. Once, when he was young, Earl Cumber took a wife, and had sons. Then he cast her away. All of Stryx knows.”

“All except me.” My tone was bitter. “And it’s beside the point.”

“Aye. Did you take pleasure, last night?”

“No!” I hated it when he forced me to lie; it built a wall between us, and risked the True. I sighed. “Some.”

“That’s all?”

“Don’t.” Not knowing what to do, I slumped back upon the grass. “It feels good to be held. I can’t help that.”

“Nor should you.”

How could this be happening? “You would openly share my bed?”

“Is there shame in it?”

Not really; folk coupled with whom they pleased; all except Virgin Prince Rodrigo. Many of the guardsmen on our walls had companions. One heard snickers, as when a man took a notably ugly wife for her dowry, but no more. Still ...

I glanced once more at Rustin son of Llewelyn. Reason enough had I to hate him: He’d struck me viciously, ignored me for his slut Chela, treated me like a very dog. Yet something there was, in his gaze, that I couldn’t shatter. And, he’d saved me from the stream, guided me through castle politics, brought me safely out of Stryx.

And with him, I felt cherished.

Still, I couldn’t destroy him later, by leading him falsely. “Rust, my droughts are with women. I yearn to marry, to—” I found the coarse word hard to utter.

“I know, my prince.”

“I wouldn’t stay with you long, you see.”

“Yes.” His voice held a note of wonder.

“Of course, we have to put aside my vow. We can’t be bedfriends if I have to do every little thing you—”

“No.” He spoke with utter finality. “That comes first.”

“You bastard’s spawn, I—” All at once, I capitulated. “As you wish!”

Had it not always been so?

Dazed and defeated, sad and joyous, I trudged back to the wagon.

E
LRYC RODE THE NAG
that once had been chela’s. “what delights you, Roddy?”

I wiped my idiotic smile. “Nothing. An old joke.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s about little brothers who don’t mind their own affairs.”

“You’re a toad.” He shifted on the saddle. “Hester says we’ll be at Cumber by night.”

I nodded. Pretending he couldn’t see I preferred to be alone, he chatted his way for a league or more.

As the sun beckoned to the horizon, Hester called a halt to confer with Rust and me. “If we goad the drays, we’ll clatter into Cumber Town before midnight. But I’m thinking it’s best to make a leisurely pace, arrive in full light of day.”

I wanted an honest bed. “Let’s hurry.”

Rust said mildly, “Think as a prince, Roddy.”

I spoke half to myself. “If we get there tonight, we’ll have a proper place for Elryc, and your Chela too.” I shot him a spiteful glance.

The castle gates would be closed, most likely, and the Earl in bed. Torches, servants calling to one another, the usual ruckus of a late arrival. Uncle Cumber cross, our party disheveled and tired after a long weary day of travel.

My tone was reluctant. “Let’s push on, camp as close to town as we might. Best if we arrive at noon, or early after.”

For a moment I basked in Rustin’s nod of approval. He said, “How does that sit with you, Dame Hester?”

“For once the Princeling shows sense.” She took up the reins with nary a glance my way.

I made my voice as injured as I might. “And you said you loved me still.”

No response. I remounted, and we rode on. An hour later she muttered, “It’s not the only time you’ve showed sense.” I wiped my mouth to hide my grin.

We chose as our campsite an unused pasture, along the high winding road. Genard toiled with the horses, and after a stern glance from Rust I went to help. Rust gathered wood, then set up my bed, spread his own gear with mine. I acted as if I didn’t notice.

At daybreak we arose, donned our best garb. I wore the new cloak Rust had found me, and my finer breeks. Impatient, I let Rust brush my hair, aware of the pleasure it gave him. At last, we set forth.

It was barely noon when we reached the plateau, and the outskirts of Cumber Town. Great-uncle’s castle had always seemed huge in my memory, but I’d been only six the last time I’d seen it.

This day, Castle Cumber loomed over the surrounding plain. At first I thought it had been built on a great rock, but as we drew near I realized the sheer size of it made it preeminent.

Rustin drew close. “Roddy, when we meet the Earl, should you wear the crown?”

“He’d think it presumptuous.” I spoke almost without thought, but was sure I was right.

“It would set a tone.”

Tempting, yes. Reluctantly, I decided against it. “No, but announce me as Prince and heir. And for once, show me respect, at least in public.”

He grinned. “I have nothing but respect for you, Roddy.”

“Hah.” My mood was mellow. During the night horsemen had passed our camp, awakening me. After, my dreams were uneasy. Rust had but held me close, comforted me when I stirred.

One hates to be alone.

Cumber was a substantial town, at least as large as Stryx itself. Shops overflowed into alleyways and side streets, from the avenue that led to the castle walls. We passed an inn. Impulsively, I sought Hester. “Let’s stop to break fast.”

“And leave the Earl to wait?”

“He doesn’t know we’re coming. Besides, it would seem less like we’ve fled into his arms.”

“Rustin, what do you think?” How like Hester, to heed Rust’s advice rather than my own.

“I think our Prince is hungry.” His eye was mischievous. “No harm, I’d say. Perhaps the inn even has place for him to bathe.”

Inwardly, I groaned, but a fresh hot meal overranked all drawbacks.

Rust looked into the cart. “Would you mind, Chela?” Whatever her answer, it seemed to satisfy him.

The Inn of the Seven Nations was grander than that of Stryx, far more busy than the one in Shar. The landlord came to us as soon as he could, found us a table to ourselves. “Welcome, all. You’re from the Norland?”

Rustin said quickly, “From the coast.” He hesitated. “What news of Stryx?”

“Of the siege, little word, though Tantroth’s allowed riders to go forth from the castle, and Margenthar’s pulled his troops back from the keep.”

“What of Llewelyn?” Rustin’s voice was taut.

“The keepholder? Who knows?” His eyes darted to the other tables, and his serving girls. “Except for the banning of Rodrigo, the former Prince, we’ve heard little. Well perhaps he’s Prince still; who knows such intricacies. Excuse me, youngsire, I’ve guests to attend.”

I pinned his arm. “What say you?”

The innkeeper’s brow wrinkled. “Why, only that Rodrigo’s been renounced, and was to be brought back to Stryx to receive a barony. His vagabond brother also. Margenthar spoke for the Council.”

“He can’t do that!”

Rust’s hand fell on my arm, squeezed a warning. “Don’t pester this good fellow. He needs to look to our meal.”

I glared at the innkeeper’s departing back. “Mother had the right to renounce me, but Council has no such power!”

Elryc muttered, “His vagabond brother. Hmpff.”

“Never mind that; Uncle Mar takes my crown!”

Genard said brightly, “You never had it, m’lord. Unless you mean that dented circlet you carry in your saddle—”

“Shush!” I shot him a withering glare, which didn’t seem to faze him. “You have a mouth like a magpie.”

“If you’re renounced, then Lord Elryc’s next in—ow!” Genard rubbed his ribs, where my brother’s elbow had jabbed.

“Anyway, Elryc’s dethroned as well.” Someone set sizzling ham before me, and hot bread. Mechanically, I began to eat. How would the news affect my great-uncle, the Earl? Would he seize me, send me back to Margenthar in chains? Fear soured my breakfast; under the table, my hand sought Rust’s.

“Eat, my prince. The news does you no ill.”

“How can you say—”

“Think.”

What else was I to consider? Had I stayed in Stryx, I’d have been subject to Mar’s every whim, and caught up in the siege as well. Perhaps Tantroth, if he’d caught word of my presence, would have demanded Mar hand me over, to put an end to our lineage.