At a gentle touch on his arm, he looked sideways. At sight of Aewen’s beautiful face his pulse picked up speed. She spoke near his ear. “Let me.”
He gave way, going to Raeld’s head to hold him steady. Aewen moved to the wingabeast’s side and lifted her arms to her mother, all the while speaking in a low, soothing voice. Inydde released Raeld’s neck and clung to her daughter instead. Elcon stepped forward to assist Inydde, who dismounted without grace. Aewen gave him a weak smile from across her mother’s bowed head. A jowl-cheeked maidservant came forward. Inydde sagged against her and allowed the woman to lead her along the cobblestone path to the keep. In her distress Inydde left her daughters alone among men. “Thank you, princess.” Elcon’s voice was not quite steady.
“She’s my mother. I could not leave her thus.” Aewen’s face shone with compassion. Utterly smitten, he watched as she rejoined her sister on the sward beside Raefe and Devlon of Darksea.
Shaking from emotion and in the aftermath of a situation that could have turned out much worse, Elcon put a hand to Raeld’s neck to steady both himself and his wingabeast. But Raeld was not ready to be soothed. He gave a series of snorts, and his prancing hooves made dull thuds in the grass as the wingabeast let his opinion of recent events be known.
Craelin and Kai approached, leading Mystael and Fletch. Inydde had requested the Kindren offer wingabeast rides to her guests but had insisted on going first. Sending an inquiring look to Raefe and Devlon, Elcon stood away from Raeld.
“I mislike this idea.” Craelin said in response to Elcon’s greeting.
He gave a swift nod. “Let us do what we can for peace.”
Craelin squinted toward Inydde and her maid, now entering the keep. “I doubt today’s adventure will have a pleasing outcome.”
Elcon firmed his jaw. “You and Kai take the two from Darksea, and I’ll let the daughters admire Raefe. He’s done more than his share this day.”
“As have you.” Kai’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Elcon turned to the waiting group. “We are at your service if you still want to ride, but think well. As you have seen, the prospect of riding a wingabeast can be somewhat different from the reality.”
“I have no need to think, Kindren. I will ride one of the beasts alone!” After making his bold statement, Raefe turned his head toward Caerla, and a glittering look passed between them. All at once Elcon understood. The Elder prince showed off for the younger daughter, not the older. He shook his head. “I am sorry, Your Highness, but none can ride a wingabeast alone without training. Even the guardians of Rivenn do not do so.”
“I care nothing for your trifling rules.” Raefe stood taller. “I will ride alone. Now give me the white one. He looks quick.”
Kai’s long eyes narrowed. “No one rides Fletch without me.”
Elcon raised a hand to warn Kai to silence. He spoke, with an effort, in even tones. “I am sorry, but I must insist for your safety, Prince Raefe. The wingabeasts are trained to know certain signals that, if absent, may confuse them. Besides that, it’s easier than it seems to become unseated by a sudden change of direction in midair. Riding a wingabeast requires balance gained by much practice. If you want to ride Fletch, Kai will be happy to accompany you.”
Raefe stood his ground, looking so furious that Elcon balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to intercept a blow. He felt Kai and Craelin move to stand just behind and beside him. Raefe, whose eyes shifted to take in this change, huffed as he glared into Elcon’s eyes. “Never mind then. I’ll not be coddled like a babe.” With that, he stomped off toward the gatehouse in a childish fit.
Aewen bowed her head at Raefe’s display. Elcon ached to comfort her, but that privilege did not belong to him. A slow blush crept up King Devlon’s neck. He dipped his head in a quick nod and set off for the keep.
Only the two daughters remained, but Caerla, bemused, made her apologies. “I’ll check my mother.” She left them, but seemed to lose her way. She did not set off for the keep, but followed instead the path Raefe had taken.
At a touch on his arm, Elcon met Aewen’s gaze. “I’m sorry. You’ve done no wrong.” She spoke barely above a whisper, and tears brightened her eyes.
He put a hand over hers. Her words, soft as the hand he held beneath his own, brought him comfort. “Come.” He walked with her then, taking her toward Cobbleford’s gardens, leaving Raeld in Craelin’s care. Kai followed him at a discreet distance, a fact he welcomed. With Kai near, he might better remember his manners in Aewen’s presence.
They were of the same mind it seemed, for they passed the chapel’s cultivated beds to lose themselves in the natural gardens beyond. Here, weilo trees dangled long leaves in the silvered waters of a stream lined with cobblestones. Wild roses unfurled and native plum trees bent under the weight of their harvest. Bees buzzed, and the aroma of sun-warmed fruit scented the air.
Elcon plucked two ripe plums and offered one to Aewen. She took the treat from his hand, the corners of her mouth lifting in a quick smile. He bit into his own plum and smiled with her as its sweetness filled his mouth. He held a branch as she sought the banks of a quiet pool, inky in the shadow of a thicket of broadberries overhung by weilos. She stood upon a flat rock at water’s edge and looked back for him. His heart stirred at the sight of her there, awaiting him. He knew without being told she had brought him to a quiet place she cherished, a place of peace. He joined her on the stone slab and crouched to rake his hand through the cool water. As he watched, a silver fish flashed beneath the surface. He stood, droplets falling from his fingers to splash on the stone at their feet. He turned to her. “Thank you.” The words resonated between them.
She tilted her head to look at him and dimpled. He longed to reach for her, to take her into his arms, to run his hand through her dark hair and free it from its plait. Instead he smiled and memorized her face, so that he might not forget her, ever.
She gazed at the pool. “I love this place.”
“I can see why.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “Can you?”
“Sometimes I steal away to the inner garden at Torindan, and there listen to Lof Yuel’s voice.”
Her brows drew together. “Lof Yuel?”
“The ‘High One,’ or God as you Elder call Him.”
She sighed and her face grew sad. “I feel Him here also. But soon I will not be able to come again. I will dwell far away in a land of cold mists.”
He caught her hand, brought her around to face him, and cupped her face. “Aewen.”
“No! No, please.” She broke away. “I should not have mentioned my sorrow to you. I forget myself because you are so kind.”
“Know this”—he paused to bring his voice under control—“I would do anything to ease your path. I would do anything if only I had the right.”
She flinched and a bruised look came into her eyes. She turned away from the pool, away from him, and stepped from the flat stone to the path.
“Wait.”
She paused but did not turn back to him.
“Are you in trouble of some kind? Do you need help?”
She looked at him then, and he saw that tears stood in her eyes. “None can help me, least of all you.”
She ducked back under the weilo branch and left him there. Elcon hesitated, on the verge of following her, but then restrained himself. He did not have the right to follow.
When he emerged from the hidden pool he found Kai waiting on the path. He didn’t try to hide his feelings. Kai read him too well for that. He sighed. “Trouble calls my name, it seems.”
Kai’s silver eyes gleamed. “But you decide whether to answer.”
****
“Flitling, what troubles you?” Murial looked up from her needlework. “You’re pale as death and can scarce catch your breath. I’ve lit a fire. Come warm yourself.”
Aewen sank onto the bench by the fire in her outer chamber and watched the flames licking around the logs they consumed. Hypnoti
zed, drawn into them, she forgot their danger in the beauty of the light they made. She took with gratitude the cup of cider Murial brought her. Her maid brushed her hair, all the while crooning beneath her breath. With deft fingers, Murial replaited her hair and tied across her forehead a doeskin strip with a sapphire stone at its center. She kissed the top of Aewen’s head and, as a last gift, rubbed lavender oil into her temples.
Aewen caught Murial’s hand when she would withdraw it and dropped a kiss upon its weathered surface. “You are good to me, and I thank you.”
Murial smiled and her dark eyes warmed. “I only do what my heart speaks.” She sobered. “Today your mother suffered a misfortune.”
Aewen gave a deep nod. “Indeed, she did. How does Mother fare?”
“She received a sleeping drought and now rests in her chambers.”
Aewen stood. “That’s well. She took a fright.”
Murial asked no more questions but probably knew the details already. News traveled quickly within the walls of Cobbleford Castle.
A memory returned to Aewen, of Caerla following Raefe. “And my sister? Has she come back?”
Murial looked blank. “Was she not with you?”
Too late, Aewen realized her error. Murial had thought she and Caerla chaperoned one another in the absence of their mother. She shook her head and wondered if Murial would hear the falsehood in her voice. “I—I walked in the garden alone to—to soothe my nerves after all that happened with Mother. I didn’t see where Caerla went. Perhaps she sought the chapel.” She added the last part despite the fact Murial would know Caerla never sought the chapel of her own volition.
Murial gave her a long look, and Aewen knew she blushed. Elcon’s image rose in her mind’s eye, as he had looked when he touched her face at the pool. She had thought she would drown, then, in his eyes. Murial gave a little cough, as if to clear her throat, and looked away. She asked nothing more.
For once Aewen had the chance to capture a stretch of time, for Raefe did not call for her, Inydde slept, and Caerla, for all she knew, remained absent. She sat in the light of one of the tall windows in her outer chamber and occupied herself in needlework while in memory she wandered along garden paths with Elcon. She heard again the timbre of his voice, which stayed with her, as did the feel of his hand in hers and the tender look on his face. As her needle flashed in and out of the linen she embroidered, she fell to humming. At some point Caerla must have returned, for the door to her room slammed. Aewen paused, but then continued with her needlework. She would go to her sister in time, but she needed a breathing space before taking up the threads of life. And so Aewen embroidered bright silks into delicate patterns until the light lessened, leaving Caerla to tend her own wounds.
She set her needlework aside and stretched, yawning. The simple task had restored her, as if silken strands could repair the rent places in her life. She would not admit, even to herself, that thoughts of Elcon brought her joy. She could not seek happiness from such a source, despite the longing that plagued her like a sickness. The fact that Elcon was high king of his people only made her infatuation with him worse. Even if she were free, he was already claimed by duty. Besides, a marriage between a Kindren and an Elder would tear the very fabric of life in Elderland. Such a union had occurred only once in history, to Ellendia, and that had been a disaster. Some Elder children did have light hair and long eyes, but the polite did not inquire into their backgrounds. The rude threw stones. The mothers of these children most often fell upon hard times, and the children themselves lived lives of poverty and shame. She would not wish such a fate on any offspring she might bear. And so, when Raefe came to her door to escort her to the evening’s feast, she linked her arm in his and smiled a welcome. She would put the Kindren king from her mind, if she could not remove him from her heart.
Caerla did not show herself in the great hall that evening, having sent word of a headache. Neither did Inydde or King Devlon of Darksea appear.
Her father seemed distracted, and Aewen caught him sending Elcon a pensive look more than once. She noticed her father’s interest because she could not deny her own. Try as she might to concentrate on Raefe, her attention drew of its own will to Elcon. And as much as she sought him out, she felt his gaze on her. Each time their glances met something happened inside her, a curious jolting sensation that caused her to stumble in speech and her hands to falter as she gripped her cup. She spilled her honeyed ale and Raefe stood, cursing in a way she’d never heard before, as a stream of pale liquid ran from the table and into his lap. He gave her a violent look, but then a mask came down over his anger. She shuddered, nonetheless, for now she had seen and had no doubt that, when they married, nothing would shelter her from his wrath.
10
Interlude
“Don’t move or I’ll stab you.”
Aewen knew from experience that the dressmaker Glynnda’s pins could draw blood. While balancing on a precarious footstool, she glanced down at the wedding gown snugged about her. “It’s too tight. I can barely breathe.”
“Stop struggling and you’ll find it comfortable.”
With a sigh of her own, Aewen sought relief in the view from the window. Beyond the castle wall the Cobbleford River broadened and bent southward as clouds gathered with the promise of rain and the surface of the water grew murky.
Aewen scowled. Even in nature she found no solace. The violent weather seemed to echo Raefe’s thinly-veiled rage the night before. What would marriage to him bring?
“A bride should not frown so. Come now, Aewen. Anyone would think you were tormented rather than favored with all manner of wedding finery.”
As a pin pricked her skin, Aewen bit back a cry.
Glynnda tskd and raised her hands. “I did warn you.”
She blinked away tears that had little to do with the pain that pierced her side.
“Careful!” Mother, neat and prim in cream brocade, appeared self-possessed and beautiful, incapable of her hysterical outburst of the day before. “Perhaps you sulk because Prince Raefe has taken himself without you to Lancert. Well, never mind. He’ll return soon enough and miss you the more for having gone without you.”
She had not known of Raefe’s departure and didn’t long for his return. In truth, she rejoiced in his absence and hoped he would linger in Lancert. How could her mother possibly think otherwise? It was better not to ask. “Are you recovered from yesterday’s upset, Mother?”
She sniffed. “Had that Kindren warned me of what it would be like to ride such a beast, I would never have risked my life on its back. Pray, speak no more of it, Aewen, for I do not wish to remember the incident. It is well the Kindren leave our gates soon. Perhaps even today.”
“Ouch!”
Glynnda sat back on her heels. “Aewen, please. You’ll bleed on this fine linen and ruin your wedding dress.”
“The Kindren leave today?”
“You sound as if you care. I can’t think why. Your father plans to ask them to leave after all they’ve put me through.”
“Did he say as much?”
“No, but I’m sure he will do so. Besides what I endured at their hands, I am told the Kindren visitors humiliated our guests from Darksea.”
“Look what you’ve done now!” Glynnda’s protest sounded sharper than usual.
Aewen stared at the small spot of blood that stained the side of her wedding dress. “It’s an omen.”
****
A flurry of white feathers greeted Elcon. He released the weilo branch as the egret he’d startled winged across a steel-gray sky. Balancing on the flat rock at the edge of Aewen’s pool, he peered into its green depths while listening to the wind stirring the grasses. He shook his head at his own folly in expecting her to find him here, as if his need might call her to him.
He’d dragged himself from bed early and ducked out alone, without Kai’s knowledge. Although he never censored him, Elcon thought Kai did not entirely approve of his actions. He should leave today rat
her than linger here pining like a love-struck youth. Euryon already hinted he would like the Kindren to leave. Inydde must have blamed Elcon for her own foolishness. Whether or not Euryon believed her, the king would want to please his wife. It was past time to move on to Norwood. Euryon had already given him the only promise he would make. No reason remained to stay at Cobbleford—no reason save one.
He could not forget the tears in Aewen’s eyes the last time he’d seen her. Through a long, sleepless night, he’d made an uneasy peace with the fact that, once he left, he might never look upon her again. Perhaps it was better that way. But he couldn’t leave without knowing she was safe. Something was not right with this betrothal of hers, and after seeing Raefe’s treatment of her yesterday, he could not settle to the thought of leaving her in the power of such a man. He let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d held. To find release, he needed to hear Aewen say she wanted Raefe and no other.
He turned to go back, for peace eluded him.
The weilo branch swayed and Aewen, wrapped in a black woolen cape, appeared. He blinked, not quite believing she stood before him. With her pale eyes and wan face, she looked insubstantial, like some wraith sprung from his imaginings. He touched her arm to make sure of her. His laugh caught in his throat. “I could almost believe you come to me in a dream.”
She did not smile. “I do wish this a dream, one that I might return to at will. Then I would ever after find my way to you.”
His hand tightened on her arm. “Take care. Do you not know the effect of such words?”
She looked at him out of pale eyes and said nothing.
He groaned and drew her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair, her forehead, and finally her mouth. She went to him willingly, lifting her arms to enfold him, kissing him back with innocent fervor. For a time he knew nothing but the taste and feel of her.
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