The Still (65 page)

My side twinged; as casually as I could, I settled in my seat. “Now, as to Soushire. For such friendship as we may come to attain, for the benefit of Caledon, for your own sake, I beg you not to ask it.” I held my breath. If he assented, I was undone, yet in decency I owed him the opportunity.

“No. I will have Soushire.”

“You expect me to secure it for you?”

“Whatever arms I ask, in addition to my own.”

I let him wait, so the prize would seem greater. “Very well. Provided you swear to end the regency and speedily crown me King, I swear by the True, and the Power I would wield.”

That, of course, wasn’t enough. He made me reword the oath to his satisfaction; when he was done I was well and truly bound.

Groenfil stood. Slowly, he bowed, the bow of respect, of vassal to liege. His tone was light. “Frankly, sire, I’m relieved.”

“That you’ll have Soushire?” I didn’t much care. Now that it was done, I felt the throb in my side with each heartbeat.

“Why, that you’re no better than I. For a time, you left doubt.” Yet his face betrayed an odd disappointment. “Your oath is truly sworn: I am pledged to you, sire.” He bowed, a proper bow, acknowledging duty of vassal to liege.

We agreed to set forth that very afternoon for Cumber, where Council would convene. I hoped to have Groenfil well away from his realm before word of Mar’s army reached him.

I made note to invite the Warthen of the Sands and Uncle Mar to join in Council, but I knew neither would attend. After, I would be crowned.

The moment Groenfil was gone to his city, Rust rushed into the tent. “I heard shouts, and wind stirred the dust.”

“We were annoyed.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes,” I said. “He pressed us.”

“Ahh, my prince grows regal. Shall I be permitted to touch you, when you’re King?”

“Perhaps,” I said coolly, and was surprised at how his face fell. “Of course,” I said. “As before.” I eased myself onto a couch, gingerly patting my side. “Everyone says I’m becoming a man. But a crown won’t make me one. You’ll help me through the last of it?”

He knelt, and his eyes glistened. “I wish ...”

“I know.” I touched his hand. “It’s not my nature. But for a time I must live by the True, and I need your comfort.”

“I’ll cherish each day.” He rose, fled the tent.

Groenfil delayed several hours, preparing to ride forth. Word came from our scouts: Duke Margenthar watered his horses at the stream where we’d stopped to refresh, mere hours from the city.

I was frantic to keep Groenfil free of my uncle’s snares, even if it cost the Earl his castle. “Set the column marching the very moment Groenfil appears,” I told Tursel.

Nervous, not knowing what to do, I poured water, washed breakfast from my hands. After, I perched on a stool outside the tent they’d just folded, toying with the bowl of tepid washwater.

What was this Earl who’d joined his cause to mine? By Mother’s account, he was among the most venal in Caledon. Certainly his lust for Soushire did him no credit. And yet ... I shivered, idly rubbing the warmth of my palms. Was there something more to him? Did he adhere to our House only from self-interest? I spread my hands atop the bowl, looking into the distance. Mother, could you have misjudged our Earl?

Would you were here to speak.

In a while I shook myself from my daze. I climbed onto Ebon, waiting with my household party for the Earl.

Genard raised himself in his saddle. “There he comes, m’lord!”

I reminded Tursel, “We’re to ride faster than Mar, whatever the cost. Let our wagons catch us when they will.”

“Your uncle’s troop could fall on our supplies.”

“But we’ll be safe in Cumber with our Council.”

Groenfil rode toward us. In addition to his guard, who fell in with our own, the Earl brought three noble retainers. He bowed from the saddle. “To your fortune, my liege.”

I swallowed. Lord Groenfil was the first to grant me the honors of my title, and it affected me unexpectedly. I gazed at his face. “Why, sir, do you smile?”

He thrust out a hand, encompassing the crisp autumn sun, the waving banners, the scarlet shrubbery. “I’ve this day, your company, and Soushire. May not a man smile at such providence?”

Tursel beckoned an aide. “Sound the trumpet to advance.”

“Not yet.” I could scarce believe the voice was mine. With effort, I raised my eyes to Groenfil’s. “I would not begin my reign in ... falsehood.” Resolutely, I thrust down my misgivings. “Sir, in all faith I must tell thee: Duke Margenthar of Verein pursues us in force, and is but hours distant.”

Groenfil took the news with equanimity. “Where?”

“At a spring, where the trail turns toward—”

“I know the place. Runwald, Cheger, go.” Two of his men wheeled, and galloped to the gates. To me, “How long have you known?”

My stomach churned; I’d cast away my crown. “Since the morn.”

“Why tell me now?”

“To redeem honor.”

“Ah.” He studied me, his eyes shrewd. “Did you owe me these tidings?”

“No. Yes.”

“When?”

Was he a tutor, to question me so? I forced a response through unwilling lips. “The moment you bowed before me, vassal to liege.” My cheeks were hot. “I ask thy forgiveness.”

“Very well. Consider your honor redeemed.” He turned to his retainer. “Hermut, tell him.”

The man’s words were a snarl. “We had word of Lord Margenthar’s march last eve, an hour past sunset. The keep is prepared for a month’s siege.”

I looked to the Earl with wonder. “Still, you’d ride with me?’

“The realm needs a king, not disarray.” Groenfil’s smile was bleak. “You’re our best hope of union.”

“And rightful heir.” Elryc’s voice was sharp.

“Why, that too.” Groenfil nodded, as if to dismiss the irrelevance. “Truly, Prince Rodrigo, you surprise me.”

“That I dabbled at betrayal?” I couldn’t help my bitterness.

“That you’d risk your crown, to reclaim yourself.” We waited while the Earl’s two riders rejoined us.

“Shall we?” Groenfil gestured down the trail. Tursel gave the signal. Our column lurched into motion.

I looked back. “And your castle, sir?”

“Will stand without me. Mar can’t afford a long siege; he can’t leave Verein untended. It’s too close to Stryx and Llewelyn’s keep.”

Rust’s tone was courteous. “May I ask, sir, what orders you sent back?”

Groenfil’s tone was equally polite. “I told my son, sir, that if I should fall, he was to be loyal to the House of Caledon.”

I rode silent, chilled. Had I not spoken, who knew how fleeting the Earl’s loyalty, or that of his kin?

With Groenfil committed, the march to Cumber became a regal procession, though in haste. Our regiment was augmented by soldiers of the Earl bearing burnished shields, under bright banners. Food was ample, and even coin flowed free, in loan from Groenfil. Only my wound troubled me. My side was red and hot, and at night, in the tent, Rust pursed his lips at the sight of it.

At Cumber, Uncle Raeth met us in full regalia, beneath the redstone towers. As he escorted us to the donjon he smiled gleefully to his valet. “So, Imbar, you were wrong. The prodigal nephew returns. Welcome, Roddy.”

“Thank you, Uncle Raeth.”

“And his companion.” He almost purred. “Imbar,
do
escort young Lord Rustin to his quarters.”

“I’ll sleep near my prince.” Rust’s tone was a trifle too sharp. “I guard him.”

“How valiant. Tresa, you’ll entertain Rodrigo until the coronation?”

“Of course, Grandfather.”

“So many guests, Imbar; we’re hard-pressed to find places of honor. Do you imagine they’ve sent envoy to the Warthen and Mar?”

My mouth opened, and I closed it without speaking.

“Perhaps they overlooked that trifle?” Uncle Raeth beamed at Imbar.

I nodded. There’d been so much to do.

“Imbar, send word as we did to Lady Soushire, there’s a good fellow.”

“Of course, Raeth.” His valet left us, patting Rust’s shoulder in passing. Rustin threw off his hand.

Raeth turned to Chamberlain Willem with a bow. Coolly, Tresa looked me over. “You’ve been in a fight.”

“Does it show?”

“Your lip is swollen, and you keep your arm pressed to your side. What befell you?”

“We assailed the keep, at Stryx.”

“Yes, I heard. How are you hurt?”

“A sword thrust.” How could I tell her I fell over a blade gripped by a corpse? “It’s been sewn.”

“Let me see.”

“Here?” My voice squeaked. I fought a furious blush. “Please, my lady.”

“Not in the great hall, for Nature’s sake. In your rooms. Let me show you.” Without a glance back, she trotted up the stairs. I had little choice but to follow, Anavar and Rust trailing behind.

We clambered three flights. Tresa vanished into another stairwell. Cursing, I pursued her. “Where’s he lodging us,” I panted. “On the roof?”

Anavar offered a shoulder, but I pushed him away. I wasn’t
that
enfeebled.

Two flights higher, the stairs gave onto a long narrow corridor. I hesitated. Could Raeth really be trusted, or might assassins lurk in these far reaches of the keep? “Rust, draw your sword.” I did the same.

Tresa glanced back. “Whatever are you doing?” She threw open a door.

Cautiously, I peered in.

The room was the entry to a suite of chambers, all fitted with the most elaborate furnishings. A huge intricately carved bed of feathers stuffed in soft cloth dominated the largest bedroom. Fine chests, silk drapery, a washbowl of silver. And the room was delightfully cool.

Tresa threw open the windows. “Look, my lord.”

Below loomed Raeth’s crenelated towers, almost as far as the eye could see. Each flew the colors of Cumber. Directly below the window lay Raeth’s magnificent garden, wherein I knew he labored each day. Beyond was Cumber Town.

“It’s ... breathtaking.”

“And rarely used. You’re this chamber’s first guest in years.”

“Who was the last?”

Tresa’s face was grave. “Josip, of Stryx.”

My father. I swallowed.

“Now, let’s see your wound.”

“Thank you, my lady, I’m—”

“You’re shy, aren’t you.” It was more statement than question. “Come, off with your jerkin.”

“I’m to be King!”

“Only if you live.” She put hands on hips. “I have skill with healing. Grandfather says I’m to look. Please don’t quarrel.”

I appealed to Rust, but his eyes were elsewhere. Sighing, I took off my shirt. Her gentle hands helped unwind my bindings.

I sat gingerly on a stool. “Will this hurt?”

“Why should it?”

Across the room, Anavar grinned, and I recalled the beating I’d promised. Tresa’s fingers caressed my wound. I flinched from the cold.

“Hotter than it ought be.” Her lips tightened.

A chill stabbed. “Will I die of it?”

Again her fingers probed. “Your body tries to heal.” Her foot tapped, as if impatient. “To be safe, you’ll stay abed until the Council.”

“Imps and demons, I will not. There’s work of state to attend.”

She frowned at my inflamed stitches. “What butcher did this?”

Rust was suddenly absorbed in the view.

“I’ve seen dishcloths better stitched. Who tied this ragged mess?” Her eyes fastened on the flush that slowly crept up Rust’s neck. “You lout! He’ll carry the scar for life!”

I said evenly, “I’ll esteem it forever.” Rust shot me a grateful glance.

“I’ll visit every day, so you won’t be too bored abed.” She spoke as if it were a thing decided.

“Think you that you’re my mother?” I filled my voice with affront.

“Why, no, else you’d be civilized.” Two red spots graced her cheeks. “I suppose I ought to be sorry, Rodrigo. But truly, you bring out the worst in me.”

“Pity any man who does.” We locked eyes.

Abruptly she stalked to the door, gave a curtsy of scant respect. “Good day, Prince Rodrigo.”

“Don’t go!” My voice was too harsh; I tried again. “Please stay. I’m not ... I’ve never known—Lord of Nature preserve us!” I looked for something to fling across the room. There was no help for it. To make it worse, Anavar and Rust watched. “Lady Tresa, I’ve no skill at discourse. Around you I feel a complete oaf. I want your company.” I felt my face redden. “I just don’t know how to ask.”

She took two steps from the door. “Do I frighten you?”

“No, not at—yes.”

“Why?”

My fists clenched. Rustin watched curiously. How often I’d humiliated myself before him. This Lady was nothing by comparison. I drew myself straight. “Because you’re grown and I only want to be. You’re a woman, and I’ve never—I’ve seldom spoken to one.” I forced myself not to flinch as I met her eyes, though her ridicule might destroy me.

Instead, she asked, “You like me?”

“You’ve mettle. You don’t fear your grandfather, nor me. It’s ... refreshing.”

“Should I hear a yes, or no?”

How much could I bear? Was that a snicker Anavar hid behind his hand? “Yes, my lady.”

“Well.” She put hands on hips. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.” Lord of Nature, I felt young. Why was I standing before her without a jerkin?

“There’s barely three years between us. And you’ve seen the world.”

“Hardly.”

“They say you must hold yourself chaste, to conserve your Power. Is it so?”

Nothing on earth could force me to meet her eyes. “Yes.”

“How awful. Boys do it all the time, don’t they? I mean—” She flushed. “I’ve heard ...” Blessedly, she trailed off.

“This isn’t seemly, my lady.” Desperately I strove for dignity. How could I allow such discourse in front of Rust and my ward?

“Of course. I only meant you must yearn so.”

I bared my teeth. If it was pity in her glance, I’d fling her from the window; the crown be damned.

It might have been pity, or some other sadness, that made her eyes glisten. My rage wavered.

“I’m sorry.” Her words came in a rush. “At times I think as a healer, and forget the man behind the pain. Will you forgive me?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to do more.

“Do put your shirt on, before you take a chill. See that tower below, the one with the red streamer? That’s where Grandfather sleeps. You’re higher even than he; by his accounting that’s great honor.” Her finger crooked to Anavar. “Come, youngsire, I’ll show you the spires of the town. You’re from Eiber?”