by Jane Atchley
But the mere sight of Kayseri's bottom moving in the saddle set a fire in his groin, adding one more layer of discomfort to his already miserable ride. What the hell was he going to do about Katie? Not one damned thing, that’s what. She shot a glance over her shoulder he could not decipher. Kree huffed. He used to be able to read Kayseri. Not anymore. How had five short years changed a charming, sweet little girl into a temptress bent on his destruction?
He moved his horse up alongside his charges. "According to the map, Princess, there is a small lake over the next rise. We’ll stop there and get out of the sun for a while."
Sandahl brightened. "What a splendid idea!" Then she raised her chin a fraction. "If you think it is necessary."
Elves. I’ll wager she can’t even feel her legs, and she asks me if I think we need a rest. Kree wiped the sweat beading his upper lip off with the back of his hand covering the weary smile lurking there. "Yeah, it is. I’m pretty whipped, Princess."
The Wilderkin reined in at the top of the rise and waited for him to come abreast again. The glen was secluded, inviting, and, best of all shaded by tall Cypress trees. The lake looked so cool and clear the captain felt refreshed just looking at it. He lifted Sandahl off her mount's broad back, and watched her totter painfully into the shade to stretch out on the cool grass.
Kayseri swung down from her horse and tugged his sleeve. "My Captain, we have to travel slower. I don’t think Sandahl can keep up this pacer."
She looked up at him expectantly, but Kree made no answer. The only words that came to mind were not things she needed to hear. After half a day’s hard riding in the blazing suns, a woman ought to look—he didn’t know. Weary? Sweaty? Not Katie. Oh, no. Velvety lashes framed deep brown eyes so warm they melted the door to his heart, a door he had thought bricked over years ago. He fought the temptation to take her in his arms by ignoring her. It proved more difficult than he imagined with Kayseri standing so close to him he smelled Good-wife Woodstock’s homemade almond soap on her skin. It was enough to make man dizzy. Her delicate nostrils flared and spots of anger bronzed her cheeks. Goddess above, he was in for it now.
Kayseri snatched the hamper from him, stalked over to the princess, and laid out their picnic of venison, apples, and cheese on the red blanket the good-wife provided. Fortified by several deep breaths, Kree followed with the wineskin.
What should have been a delicious repast was dust for all the pleasure he took in it. To her credit, Sandahl tried to ease the tension between Kayseri and himself. She talked of Nhurstari art and protocol subjects in which Eldren had thoroughly educated her. She stove, without success, to draw them into the conversation.
Kayseri was not interested in anything beyond starring daggers at him. Kree could almost see the wheels turning in her head plotting ways to get even with him for snubbing her. Her ire was fine by him. Anger was a safer emotion. At the very least, it was one he could to deal with.
For his part, Kree cared for nothing elfish, and he was too tired for pretense. The torturous meal finally ended, and he stretched out on his stomach in the deep shadow of a Cypress tree. "I’m going to close my eyes for a few minutes, ladies. Enjoy yourselves. But keep alert, and don’t wander out of ear shot."
***
Sandahl and Kayseri walked arm in arm along the lakeshore. "You must settle your differences with the captain. Apologize to him."
"My differences! You’re the one! He’s been brassed-off ever since you asked him for a contract. He’s..." Kayseri sputtered with impotent rage. "Impossible! He cut me dead just now. He's the one who owes me an apology."
Sandahl sat on the bank and took off her slippers and stockings. "I don’t see that happening. Do you? You and my prince-protector tricked him into accompanying us did you not?" She dipped her feet into the water and leaned back on her arms with a satisfied sigh. "We cannot continue like this. He is scarcely speaking to us. Someone has to make the first move."
"Then you make it. Apologize for insisting on a blood contract. That’s what set him off. He was fine before that." Kayseri slipped off her moccasins and dipped her feet in too. "I haven’t done anything to him...lately. Did I tell you he wanted me to stay with the Woodstocks?"
The princess bundled her skirt up and wadded out the clear water. "Oh, I’m so glad you talked him out of it, Kayseri. I've wanted to ask you to stay with me in Nhurstari. I feel so alone without Eldren. My Sar Vashada believed your captain would not help me unless I bound him to me in some way, but I think he was mistaken. I think I should have trusted in Kree."
Kayseri waded out to her. "So you’re going to apologize to him?"
Sandahl nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am, and I think you should too."
"But I haven’t done anything!"
***
Giggles woke him, high-pitched, delighted, girlish giggles mingled with splashing water. He grinned at the sight of his Wilderkin charges shrieking and darting about in the lake like a pair of mermaids. Kree was not much of a swimmer. His first lieutenant claimed it was because he had too much dense muscle and too little buoyancy. The man was probably right. Duncan was a bona fide genius. Still and all, splashing around in the water was a fine way to cool off on a hellish hot day. For a moment, Kree considered joining them, but only for a moment. The idea of being nude or nearly so and in close proximity to Kayseri invited the very kind of disaster he was desperate to avoid. Better, he stay right where he was.
Kree reached for his pack with a groan and spread out the map he’d taken from Eldren. They were making better time than he had dreamed possible, mostly because his body could take tremendous punishment. He was beginning to think the princess’s could too. If he pushed them just a little harder, they could reach Temple Arbala by evening. Not having to spend another night out in the open was a very appealing notion. For one thing, he could finally get some sleep.
He pushed himself to his feet and got Kayseri’s attention with a whistle and wave.
"Turn around." Kayseri yelled back at him.
Kree made a show of turning his back. He heard the girls splash ashore, and he did not try to sneak a peek at Kayseri's wet nude body. If that was not discipline, he did not know the meaning of the word.
Chapter Twelve
Arbala lay below them, a vast city by any standard. Lamps glowing in the windows like so many stars piqued Kayseri’s pixie curiosity. Just as the garrison dominated Qets, so the Temple complex, its high walls lit by dozens of lamps, dominated Arbala. Supporting businesses and private residences had grown up around it in higgledy-piggledy fashion.
Eager to explore as Kayseri was, Kree’s reluctance to enter the city puzzled her. He had insisted they come here, had pressed them to hurry even though every mile was agony for him. Now he sat on his horse staring down at the twinkling lights as if it were the last place in the wide world he wanted to go.
He dismounted, wet the tail of his shirt with water from his water skin, and scrubbed the trail dirt off his face. Kayseri frowned. A little dirt never bothered her captain. A lot of dirt never bothered him. She had never known him to give a hoot about his appearance and she had known him her whole life.
More surprising still, Kree exchanged the plain rawhide strip holding his hair in a queue for the golden gryphon filigree decorating his scabbard, and despite the lingering summer heat, he donned the bright blue jacket that completed his uniform before slipping on his arming harness. His eyes narrowed as the added weight of two long ivory-handled fighting knives slightly changed the angle of his shoulders, and Kayseri wondered once more how serious his injuries really were. But mostly, she wondered why he needed his knives.
Kayseri shifted in her saddle. "I thought this was a safe place?"
Kree glanced up at her, his expression what? Apologetic? "Yes. But here... In this place... Among Namar’s faithful being Goddess-born is not merely a synonym for illegitimate. While we rest here, I must be Goddess-born."
What was he talking about? "You are always Goddess-born."
&n
bsp; He pulled himself back into the saddle with effort and a grimace. "You don't understand what Goddess-born is. Not really. I don’t live as one at Qets." Kree shrugged to settle his weapons, winced again. "When I was a boy, juggling the two halves of my life was not very difficult, but the older I got, the higher I rose within the faith, the more difficult it became. Finally, I stopped trying." He flashed his beloved grin. "Help me out while we're inside, little girl. Try not to make me look foolish."
"I don’t know what you mean."
Kree winked at her. "I'm sure you don’t."
The fancy wrought iron gates set in the city’s whitewashed wall had closed for the night, but a light burned in the small gatehouse set into one side of the wall. Alerted by the sound of shod hoofs ringing on the cobbled street, the gatekeeper stood on the stoop with a lantern in his hand.
"Who comes to Temple Arbala?"
"Kree Fawr."
The man stepped forward raising the lantern as he came. "Is it really you, Gryphon?" The man sketched a bow. "We have not seen you for—must be—nigh on five years or more."
"More." Kree narrowed his eyes at the man
"Is this some sort of gathering then, Gryphon?"
Kree blinked. "Are there other Goddess-born in residence?"
"Oh, yes." The gatekeeper made stair steps with his free hand. "Young ones." He hung the lantern on a hook and opened the gate. "Meeting you'll be a treat for the young lads. Does the Matriarch know you're coming in?"
"She does not."
"Then I should ring the bell?"
"Yes." Kree sighed. "Ring the bell, Trevor." He kneed his horse forward.
The man smiled broadly, and Kayseri realized the gatekeeper was pleased beyond measure that Kree called him by name. How odd? Everyone knew Kree was devilish good with names.
"Good evening to you, Gryphon, and a good evening to you young ladies, as well. Welcome to Arbala. Enjoy your stay."
The avenue they traveled was wide enough for two wagons abreast. Kree encouraged them to ride on his left leaving his sword arm clear. Bells rang as they passed through the gate, three peals, a pause, three peals, and a pause repeating.
"What does that pattern mean?" Kayseri asked.
Kree glanced at her with a quick grin. He liked it when she noticed little things. "They announce a high-degree Goddess-born is returning to the Temple."
People poured out of the shops and restaurants to watch their progress. Women, young and old, rushed into the street offering Kree flowers. He tucked their offerings under his arming harness. Once he kissed the offered blossom and handed it back to the middle-aged woman whose offering it had been. Her friends crowded around her as if he had handed her a purse full of gold. Old men doffed their hats, bowed their heads. Little boys darted into the street and touched his boots.
In Kayseri's experience, Kree discouraged every sort of display among his troopers, refusing honorifics, shunning salutes. She leaned in and whispered to Sandahl. "My Captain hates people fussing over him.
They watched a woman hold up a baby to him. Kree touched the child’s head in passing. "He does not seem to hate it," Sandahl said."
By the time they reached the Temple, the broad front gates stood open. They rode through without challenge. Here no one approached them as they had in the city, but Templemen gathered in the doorways and porches to watch Kree pass by. Kayseri, creature of the woodland that she was, found such scrutiny claustrophobic. She was relieved when they reached the Temple.
Built of pink granite, the building soared three stories. Kayseri had not seen a grander building, even in Elhar. A plump priestess wearing a green gown stood just inside the arched doorway. Despite the bright light spilling from the open doorway, the priestess held a candle.
Kree slipped off his horse and helped Sandahl then Kayseri dismount. Two girls in simple white shifts took charge of their horses. Kree gave Kayseri’s waist a little squeeze then turned toward the open door.
The plump priestess dropped a deep curtsey. "Welcome home, Goddess-born Gryphon." Ushering his Wilderkin before him, Kree followed the women inside.
Two more priestesses dressed in blue, waited beside a marble table upon which sat a large white porcelain bowl. One of the women held a cut crystal pitcher of water; the other had a soft white towel draped across her hands. Kree held his hands over the bowl allowing the first woman to pour water over them. The scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the air. The second woman dried his hands. Ritual completed, they dropped into deep curtsies, and Kree blew out the candle.
"I regret that you may not immediately take your ease, Namar's Gryphon, but the Matriarch is most eager to see you," said the green-clad priestess.
"I live to serve." Kree touched his fingertips to his heart, a gesture Kayseri had seen him make a million times—only this was not his usual mocking gesture.
The priestess led them down a long marble hallway. Kayseri gazed around trying to take everything in at once. The colorful tapestries depicting the Goddess Namar in various poises of battle, play, and passion decorating the hall held her spellbound. Could people really bend like that? Only the pressure of Kree’s hand at the small of her back kept her moving forward.
Many rooms opened off this central hallway. Kayseri paused in one doorway to listen to two boys with long braided hair make war upon a piano in what was obviously a music room before Kree herded her into the Matriarch’s study and closed the door.
Designed to intimidate and impress, this was still very much a woman’s room. Intricate patterned rugs artfully softened the white marble floor. Two opulent couches in mauves and creams bordered a massive craved marble fireplace. The far corner of the room was devoted to music holding another piano, a great harp, and smaller stringed instruments propped upon their stands. There were several intimate seating areas, colorful chairs, and ebony side tables, arranged throughout the room, and it was from one of these seating areas that the Matriarch rose to greet them. She was a tall woman dressed in a simple soft white robe. Vibrant crimson trimmed the robe’s high collar. Grey frosted once blond hair scraped back into a severe bun, but her jade-green eyes reminded Kayseri of Kree.
Kree motioned for Kayseri and Sandahl to wait while he greeted the Matriarch. He took the Lady’s hands, kissed them, and sank to one knee as gracefully as he could manage on his injured leg He remained in his kneeling position with his head bowed waiting for her to acknowledge him.
"Mother," he said, when her silence had stretched too long.
The Matriarch lifted Kree's single braid and let it fall from her fingers.
"What have you done, Goddess-born?"
"I have lost my faith, Mother."
"Lost it or cast it from you?"
Kree glanced up. "Does it matter?"
The woman softened a fraction, but she quickly masked herself in austerity. "I do not suppose it does, Goddess-born. But if what you say is true, what is it you seek here?"
He took the Matriarch’s hands again. The gesture begged favor, and a twinge of anger stirred in Kayseri's heart. Her Captain begged for nothing.
"I seek rest, Mother. I have taken an injury. My contract is weary. I seek a healer for myself and for them."
The woman’s cold eyes flickered over Kayseri and Sandahl. "Namar loves all her sons, even her lost ones. You will have all you desire, Goddess-born and more. You may rise.
"Claudine, take charge of these Wilderkin. Feed them, bathe them, and provide clean clothing for them. We will send the healer to them after he has seen to our son. Ready Kree’s suite for his use." She paused, considering. "He will want his contract close I think. Put them in the solar."
"Yes, Mother." The priestess bowed, and turned to Kayseri. "If you young ladies will follow me, we will make you comfortable."
Sandahl hesitated and Kayseri understood why. She did not want to leave Kree with this menacing old woman either, and if this lady was his mother then she could use some nurturing lessons.
Seeing their reluctance, Kree ste
pped toward them, stopped, and turned to the Matriarch. "May I have permission to withdraw?"
"Not yet. I wish to speak with you privately."
Kree took a parade-rest stance and mouthed the word go to Kayseri. Seeing her autocratic captain subjugated filled her with the fear a mercenary attack had failed to inspire. She hated this place, and she hated her mischief for bringing them here. She held Sandahl’s hand lending the elf girl a measure of her own false confidence and followed the priestess.
The moment the door closed the Matriarch embraced Kree, careful of his ribs. Like mothers everywhere, she had a sixth sense about her only child's wellbeing. He had never been able to hide anything from her.
"With those whiskers you look exactly like your father."
"That's what people tell me."
She stepped back. "You don't remember your father?"
"I remember he loved me. I remember the things he taught me. I remember how he used to say, if you live one more day, boy, I'd be mighty impressed. But how he looked...not really."
The Matriarch crossed to a small writing desk, picked up a silver hand mirror and handed it to Kree. "Picture yourself with kind brown eyes instead of those chips of green ice you inherited from me." She took his hands in her own and held his arms away from his sides appraising him. "You've lost weight and you look exhausted. How long has it been since you last tasted nectar?"
His hand covered hers as she sorted through a small ivory box with rows of tiny silver flasks inside. "Three years, seven months, two days. Tell me the time and I will give you hours and minutes."
She stared up at him "How is that possible, son?"
He had dreaded this moment. How do you tell your mother you have forsaken not just Goddess nectar, but everything she believes? "Lathan Bruin helped me break its hold." He rushed on before she could speak. "It’s true, I have lost muscle. I have to work harder to maintain my form now, and I am not as quick as I once was. But, Mother, no one can use my dependence on nectar against me and for that, I'm stronger."