She shook her head. “Wedding vows made without it can prove themselves a snare.”
“Bah!” He folded his arms. “I have no patience for matters of the heart.”
“Have you not?” Hope lifted her voice. Perhaps he would leave her alone after all.
“What does a farmer know of romance?”
“I want nothing to do with it myself.” There. She had let him know how she felt.
“It seems we are agreed.”
Relief washed over her. He had come around so quickly. “I believe so.”
“That’s well then.” He nodded. “I will ask for you.”
She stared at him. “You must not!”
“Why, pray tell?” A note in his voice hinted of wounded pride.
“Forgive me, but I should not have spoken so sharply. It was only dismay at having to confess that my dowry is not large.”
He waved a hand. “What do I care for a dowry? A wife with a strong back ready to bear my children and able to keep my hearth and home is all I require. You’ll do well enough.”
“I’m certain you should continue looking for a bride more suited to your station.”
“What do I care for that? The man who marries Quinn and Heddwyn’s only child stands to inherit the Whitefeather Inn and its lands. That expectation can replace a dowry.”
His interest took on new meaning, all of a sudden. “But I want no husband.”
He smiled. “Only consider what I’m offering, and you’ll change your mind.”
She wouldn’t but didn’t tell him so. From the set of his jaw, he meant to ask for her no matter what she said or how she felt.
Surely Da wouldn’t promise her to this smug man against her wishes.
2
THE STRANGER
Seated at a scarred table in the inn’s common room, Rand did his best to ignore the hostile stares from more than one pair of rounded eyes. He’d chosen a dark corner away from the lanthorn light in the hope of escaping notice. As a Kindren among the Elder, he’d expected to encounter suspicion. From the look of this crowd, he’d better keep watch to avoid being knifed in his bed. He couldn’t let anything happen to him, not with his father’s errand to carry out, although the thought of it made his stomach churn.
Almost as soon as Rand sat down, the man with silver-threaded black hair who had greeted him at the door brought a tankard of ale and called into the kitchen for service. He seemed eager for his Kindren guest to eat and leave. If so, in this their desires matched. A long day in the saddle had sapped Rand’s strength and left him eager for sleep.
He lifted the tankard with his left hand, favoring his bruised side, acquired courtesy of his half-brother’s ambush. The sudden memory of Draeg standing victorious over him, and looking far too much like their father, tightened Rand’s jaw. He banished the image, unwilling to let himself think of defeat at a time that called for courage.
A maiden pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen, balancing a tray of small pies. She glanced about the room, and her clear green eyes fastened on his. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes. Hair black as an eberec’s wing crowned her head in a braid and also rippled down her back. Her face showed no blemish, so youthful he might take her for a child save for the female form her kirtle failed to hide.
A shy smile touched her lips as she lowered the tray before him. He accepted her offering and, diverted by hunger, crammed his mouth full of venison pie. She stepped back and away, all the while watching him. He must look rough after days on the road, or perhaps she’d never seen a Kindren before. He stared back, as fascinated with her as she seemed with him.
He’d known her at once from the description given him, but he’d never expected to find his quarry so quickly.
Mara felt the Kindren looking at her out of long eyes a strange hue between green and amber, deepened by the dim light in the far corner. He had a look she’d seen before, that of a care-worn sojourner. How far had he come, and what errand thrust him upon the mercies of the road?
The front door opened and the lanthorns suspended from overhead beams swung in the draft that fanned her face. Light flared across the stranger, turning his hair red-gold. She’d taken him for older than he now appeared, but guessing a Kindren’s age wasn’t easy. His kind hardly ever stopped at the inn these days, and she’d forgotten how intriguing she found them.
She dragged her gaze from his, breaking the slender thread that had stretched between them, and turned away in time to see Rohan and Da shut the door to the porch behind them. Her mouth went dry. Rohan had wasted no time.
She didn’t have to look to know that the Kindren still watched her as she pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
“What troubles you?” Mam asked, making her jump. “You be pale as a specter.”
“T’is but a passing mood.” Mara gave Ardel the empty tray to load with more venison pies.
Brynn paused while forming dough at the work table. “Mayhap one of the Fieann whispers enchantments in your ear.”
Mara could almost believe it. Had the Kindren traveler snared her with magics? Even now she felt a strange pull to return to him.
“Careful…” Ardel peered about as if one of the smallfolk might lurk in a corner. “Don’t speak of such things.”
“Why not?” Brynn pushed wisps of hair off her forehead with the back of a flour-covered hand. “For all we know, Mara herself might be a changeling come to steal our breath as we sleep. She might—”
“Brynn!” Mam cut across her sister’s words.
Brynn shut her mouth but her eyes continued to speak.
“Specters and Feiann, indeed!” Mam scoffed. “I should know better than to while my time in idle fancies. Let’s leave this talk.”
Ardel finished reloading the tray and held it out for Mara to take. “It’s best to say nothing of fell creatures that can ride in on uneasy talk,” she warned.
Glad to leave the kitchen, Mara carried her tray into the common room. With Rohan and Da still pacing on the porch, she had more than specters and smallfolk to worry about. The Kindren traveler had vanished. He must have been in a hurry to seek his bed, assuming Da had allowed him to stay. He’d once turned Kindren travelers away in favor of peace at the inn, but in these quieter days he might tolerate them.
She emptied her tray, went into the kitchen for more, and came back into the common room to find Da shutting the front door behind him with Rohan gone. Her skin prickled. Why did Da look so pleased?
Pushing the puzzle from her mind, she went about her work, but then Da pulled Mam aside in the kitchen while they were cleaning up for the day. Ardel washed the last of the crockery in the long sink with water piped in from the river. Brynn had long since retired for the night. While Mam and Da talked in quiet voices, Mara stopped scrubbing the work table and strained shamelessly to hear. She could make out none of their words.
Da went out to the last guests lingering in the common room, and Mam beamed at Mara. “Rohan has asked for you.”
She set her jaw. “I’ll not have him.”
“What’s this?”
“He wants not a wife but a servant to tend his house and bear his wretched bairns.”
Mam frowned. “Don’t speak amiss of a man willing to take you without a dowry.”
“I’ll just finish in the morn.” Ardel, her face flaming, sidled past them and out through the swinging doors.
Mara used the small interruption to gather her thoughts. “He wants the inn and lands. He said as much.”
Mam’s nostril’s flared. “And what of that? If the man takes care of you and yours, he’d deserve them.”
“Am I such a burden?”
Mam’s face softened. “Nay, child, never that. But can you not see that to wed our neighbor would keep you near?”
“Not marrying at all would leave me closer.”
“Foolishness.” Mam shook her head, her brow puckered. “You’ll want to marry.”
“W
hy?” Mara said in desperation. “Why can’t I stay here with you and Da?”
“Hush, child. T’is the way of things, and naught to be done about it. Fledglings fly the nest.” Tears stood in Mam’s eyes.
“And what of Da? Does he want me to leave as well?”
“Da agrees that you should marry Rohan.”
Mara had nothing more to argue after that. She left her mother, care weighting her steps, and escaped into her tiny chamber. Despite her exhaustion, sleep came in restless bouts that did little to ease her.
Weak light was outlining the wooden shutters at the window when she dragged from bed. Dawn after a bad night came as unwelcome, but her work would not wait. This early, quiet shrouded the inn, save for soft voices behind closed doors. Mam and Brynn would be in the kitchen, stoking fires and planning the day’s repasts. Mara slipped out the front door just as a cock’s crow rose above the rushing of the river. The moon hung low, refusing to fade from the pewter sky.
She lifted her skirts, her feet swishing in the dewy grass, a basket for gathering eggs in the crook of her arm. The stableyard mud had hardened enough to travel a straight course to the hen house. The pastures gleamed in the dawn, but the stable hunched over in darkness with only a faint bar of light reaching from the open doorway. The thud of hooves and a familiar whistle carried to her, and on impulse she turned aside to enter. She felt her way along the rough wall boards to the tack room.
The whistling stopped. “Good morn.” Hael greeted her in altogether too cheerful a voice. Rubbing a saddle with a cloth he dipped into a crock of neetsfoot oil resting on a stool beside him, he looked all at once familiar and safe.
She made a vague sound, not quite trusting her voice.
His smile faded. “Mara, what’s the matter?”
He knew her far too well. She should never have sought him out while tears pressed at the back of her eyes. She shook her head.
His brow puckered in a frown. “Is that aunt of yours causing trouble again?”
“’Tis nothing so simple.” Her voice quavered.
“So then.” He set the cloth down next to the crock and rubbed his hands together. “Tell me.”
At the quick sympathy in his voice, tears slid down her face.
“Faith!” He stared at her with a look of helplessness. “What can be so bad?”
“They want me to marry Rohan.” She gasped the words between sobs.
He looked at her without expression. “And what do you want?”
“Not that.”
He took up the cloth again and bent to rub the saddle with force. “Then you must not.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Have you no say in the matter?” He threw out the question without turning his head.
“Little, it seems.” Her voice sounded as shaky as she felt.
He looked back to her. “Are you certain?”
“Mam has her mind set on it.”
Hael straightened away from the saddle. “And what of your Da? I can’t think he’d want you unhappy.”
“Mam said he liked my marrying Rohan.”
“Tell him how you feel. Could be he’ll change his thinking.”
She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “If you weren’t full of oil I’d give you a hug.”
“Just my luck.” He scowled, then winked. “Go on with you.”
Rand sat up in bewilderment, but then remembered he slept in a cramped attic chamber beneath the gabled roof of the Whitefeather Inn. He stretched, groaning at the pain in his bruised muscles. At the memory of the black-haired maiden who had served him in the common room, he groaned again. He didn’t want to harm anyone, and especially not someone who had looked at him with the very eyes of innocence.
What could his father have against her?
Not for the first time, he cursed his birth. Were he a son of Amora like Draeg, he’d not have been sent to prove himself on such a mission. At the disloyal thought, a shaft of guilt lanced him. His mother had nurtured him as well as she could, given the limitations of her position. His father should have married her as he’d promised instead of making Amora his lof raelein instead. Then he, and not Draeg, would be the favorite son.
He looked out the tiny window and sucked in a breath. The black-haired maiden, as if summoned by his thought of her, walked toward the inn carrying a basket of eggs. He backed out of sight.
She must gather eggs every morning, a good thing to know. He would saddle Taelant, ride east, and hide in the ruined homefarm he’d passed yesterday. When she came to gather eggs on the morrow, he’d be waiting.
A wave of sickness crashed over him at the thought.
3
AN AGREEMENT
Mara paused partway up the stairs as the inn’s front door swung open. Da stepped onto the porch and smiled at her. “You’re awake earlier than usual this morn.”
She didn’t often see him on his way to check the fish traps. “Da, may I have a word with you?” Her voice sounded breathy.
His smile faded. “Aye. What troubles you?”
“I don’t wish to marry Rohan.” The words rushed out on a breath.
His forehead puckered. “T’would be a shame to turn down a good offer you’ll never see the like of again.”
“I don’t love him, Da.”
“Sometimes love comes later in a marriage.” His gaze searched her face. “Take just a wee more time for thought.”
“I already know my mind on the matter, thank you.”
“Your Mam sets her heart on having you near.” He rubbed his chin. “You’ll want to settle this with her.”
The ache in her fingers reminded her to ease her grip on the basket. She gave him her best smile. “You could speak with Mam yourself, if you would.”
He sighed. “Marry Rohan and you’ll want for nothing.”
From the set of his jaw, he’d given his final word. Brushing past him with tears stinging her eyes, she flung herself into the inn. Da wanted her gone, too. She leaned against the wall in the common room and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.
Mam and Aunt Brynn’s voices from the kitchen rolled over her, soft at first, but then more fervent. Mara tilted her head to listen and caught her name.“I don’t know why you’ve kept her all this time.” Aunt Brynn spoke with venom. “I say give her to Elcon and be done with it, assuming her father still wants her.”
“Mara’s the only child I have. Not having birthed yourself, I don’t suppose you can understand mother-love.”
“Bah! Don’t pretend Mara is your own child when we both know she isn’t.”
Mara put a hand to her mouth to hold back her gasp. Mam had never told her she didn’t belong to her.
“That’s not what I said, Brynn, and well you know it. I have birthed. Even if my babes didn’t live, bringing children into the world stirs a woman in deep ways. Mara be all the more dear to me because of it.”
“Dear? That wayward snip? Speak no more of this foolishness.”
“If love be foolishness, then I own to it.”
“And who is this child you love? A babe what you stole from the Kindren high king.”
“We thought she wouldna be safe with Elcon!” Mam protested. “Look what happened to her mother, after all. How were we to know peace would follow?”
“If I’ve told you before, I’ll say it again. You should have given her up when he came looking for her.”
“Once the lie be told, ’twas too late.”
“And what of Rohan?” Aunt Brynn went on. “Should he not have a decent Elder wife rather than a wretched Kindren half-blood?”
“Quiet yourself! Mara will wake soon, and I’d rather she not hear things she shouldn’t.”
Mara shook her head. They’d lied to her. She wasn’t their daughter or even an Elder. Everything about her life was a lie. No wonder they wanted to foist her onto Rohan. The basket over her arm tipped and eggs splatted to the floor. She stared at them, soaking into the rushes.
Boots thumped on the stairs warning her she was no longer alone. The Kindren traveler, wearing his cloak and carrying a saddlebag, smiled at her from the stairs. “Good morn.”
She couldn’t answer, but stared at him.
He came down the stairs and offered her a smile. “You’ve had a bit of trouble, I see.”
Was her upset written on her face? But, he was looking at the broken eggs on the floor. “’Tis a small thing,” she said in a husky voice.
He smiled then, his eyes warming.
She examined the stair rail as if she’d never seen it before. “You’re on your way, then?”
“I am.”
He’d taken too long to answer, and she risked glancing at him. Why did he look sad? Perhaps his journey came as unwelcome. “Health and happiness to you?” The usual parting she gave lodgers came out a question.
His fleeting smile did not warm his eyes. “It is to be hoped.”
“What road will you travel?” As soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks warmed. That was none of her business. Why she’d asked she couldn’t say, except that he’d sparked her curiosity.
“I’m headed into the wilderness that lies between here and Torindan.”
Her breath caught. She’d heard tales of the wilderness, and also of the fabled high hold of Faeraven, the place where the Kindren king Mam had named as Mara’s father lived. “What will you do there?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Her face burned. “I-I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be.” He smiled again. “Only let me trade my answer for your name.”
“I’m Mara.”
“Mara.” Her name sounded musical when he said it. “I’m Rand, a tracker hunting for my shraen.”
“Shraen?”
“Your people call such rulers kings.”
“Why have you come so far? Has your king no game near his stronghold?” Why question him further? She should let him go on his way.
“He would have the tender meat of a spring ibbera kid from the Maegrad Ceid.”
“I don’t know of such a place.”
“I referred to the range called the Crystal Mountains by the Elder.”
A king might command a hunter to travel afield to please his tastes, she supposed. Did he know of her father, Elcon? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Well then, may God grant success to your hunt.”
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