by Jane Glatt
of torturous riding,” she said. “I may never recover.” She met his gaze and her smile faltered. The look in his eyes was more than simple attraction. She had to remember that he believed she was the prophesied heir to the throne. Any relationship they developed, whether it was as trail companions, friends, or bedmates, would hold so much meaning for him. Kane had been far too generous and kind to her for her to treat his feelings with no regard.
One hand on his shoulder, she steadied herself as she stood up.
“I’ll be back soon.” She pulled on her boots, grabbed a purse and slipped out the door.
Over the next three days, Brenna made an effort to talk to Lord Stobert. They were in his lands and he took much delight in telling Brenna details of the farms and villages that they passed. The weather was more co-operative and for long stretches they rode in the hot sun, fields on both sides of the road high with corn, wheat and other crops.
Brenna couldn’t sense anything unusual about Stobert or his men when she tried to read them through old steel so perhaps Kane had been right and Stobert had simply needed some time to accept her. He still hadn’t committed to having her meet Duke Ewart, and it made her uneasy. If he believed, truly believed, wouldn’t he want her to meet the duke?
Brenna did find riding easier. She no longer felt stiff and sore in the mornings and her legs were steady when she dismounted. Inns were frequent and they continued to stop each night, but she no longer required a hot bath to ease her aching muscles. She wondered how much all of this travel cost, but when she asked Kane about it he assured her he had more than enough coin.
Brenna had been nervous all day. It was their last evening before they reached Silverdale and she and Kane were to dine with Stobert. Tomorrow they would enter the city, and although Lord Stobert had assured them he had a plan, he had not yet told them what it was. Tonight, he’d promised, they would find out. Although at this point Brenna was of a mind to simply thank him and make her own way into town. If she didn’t like his plan she would leave.
The inn, so close to Silverdale, was more refined than some of the ones they’d stayed at along the way. Stobert had commandeered a private dining room, and when Brenna arrived, she’d found Stobert and Kane already in conversation.
“Brenna,” Lord Stobert said. “Come in. Shall I pour you some wine?”
“Please.” She took the glass he handed to her and sat down beside Kane.
She and Kane had been painfully polite and distant with each other ever since that morning a few days ago. For her part, Brenna was trying to ignore her increasing attraction to Kane. She supposed he was doing the same. But it was difficult. Some nights she found herself awake, listening to him breathe, and her heart ached. Ever since her mother was killed she’d felt alone. Kane was changing that, making her feel that she wasn’t isolated, that she could depend on someone – she could depend on him. But it was because he believed she was something she wasn’t - the heir to the prophesy. That was enough betrayal for her to live with. She wouldn’t compound it by bedding him. He deserved more from her.
“Are you ready to tell us what you have planned?” Kane asked.
Lord Stobert leaned back in his chair, his hand on the stem of his wine glass.
“I’m afraid we must wait a little while longer,” Westley said.
Brenna frowned and reached for him through the old steel. She didn’t feel anything. By habit she checked for other old steel nearby. There, a little ways away, was a piece that felt familiar.
“I believe your man has returned,” Brenna said. “I think you said his name was Kersey?” It was the same man, the same weapon, she’d felt the night Westley and his men had saved them.
“He is due to meet us here,” Westley said. “I’ve been waiting for him.”
“So he was sent to make our arrangements,” Kane said.
“Based on some options I gave him, yes.”
A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. After a brief conversation a guard Brenna didn’t recognize entered. But the old steel sword on his hip was familiar.
“Kersey,” Stobert said. “I don’t think you’ve formally met Brenna, the Caller. I believe you know Kane Rowse.”
Kersey bowed to her and Brenna dipped her head slightly. Kersey then passed a small leather envelope to Lord Stobert, backed away and took up a position near the door.
Westley opened the envelope and drew out some papers. He scanned them quickly and handed them to her.
“Kersey has arranged for a place for you to stay in Silverdale,” he said. “It should be quite safe.”
Brenna read the top paper. “We’re disguised as a newly married couple visiting elderly relatives,” she said. “This is good.” This would be the perfect way to see Silverdale. She would be free to explore the city on her own and find out information that hadn’t come to them from Lord Stobert. Her earlier nervousness disappeared.
“This could even be fun Kane,” she said.
He shook his head. “It could be dangerous,” Kane said. “Duke Thorold is not likely to give up just because we’re in Silverdale.
He was right, she knew it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun. She’d be careful.
Thorold scanned the message once again before he crumpled it and tossed it into the fire. Barton’s note said he’d caught up with the girl and her companions and he was following them to Silverdale. Along with Rowse, there were at least four guards and a noble, Lord Westley Stobert. Thorold knew him. He had an estate in Fallad near the foothills of the Godswall and spent far too much time patrolling his border with Comack. He was annoyingly vigilant about keeping Thorold’s horses off his land. A few years ago Lord Stobert had seemed willing to lease him some pasturage, but then he’d tried to take advantage of the situation and charge an exorbitant fee.
Thorold smiled. When Beldyn became king, Lord Stobert would regret his actions.
And it would not be long now. King Mattias’ health was failing quickly. Thorold still hadn’t been able to get the king to approve his choice of captain, though. That old fool, Feiren Rowse, had put his own candidate forward. As if he would ever allow Kane Rowse’s second in command to be named captain.
Right now Barton needed to take care of the girl. She was a nuisance, a loose end, and he wanted her dead.
He looked up at Fridrick, who had waited in silence while he read the note.
“Anything for you to report?”
“Yes, my Lord. At least it seemed wise to inform you.” Fridrick kept his eyes on his feet as he took one step forward. “It seems that Acting-Captain Rowse has been seen in conversation with the king’s wine steward. There have been at least two sightings that I know about. On one occasion Rowse seemed to hand something to the wine steward.”
Thorold leaned forward. “And do you know what it was?”
“Not yet, my Lord, but I will soon enough. At least I’ll know as much as the wine steward knows.”
“Excellent, Fridrick. Inform me when you have more information. You may go.” He smiled as the scholar turned and left. Feiren Rowse was meddling with the king’s wine. The old fool had handed himself over to him. He’d rather know exactly what Rowse had been doing, but really, it didn’t matter - adding anything into the king’s wine without his consent was treason. He’d have the High Bishop obtain Feiren Rowse’s confession. And he would watch.
nineteen
Kane hated waiting. It made him nervous. Four days they’d been in Silverdale and still no meeting with Duke Ewart.
He and Brenna were staying in the home of an elderly couple, Kane posing as their visiting great nephew and Brenna as his new bride. The couple had family connections to the Brotherhood, although they were no longer active in the order. Much to Brenna’s relief they had not been told that she was the Caller.
The daily messages he received from Westley Stobert assured him a meeting with Ewart would happen soon but Kane was running out of time and patience. If another day went by without a firm meet
ing date he and Brenna would move on. Her safety came first. Thorold had men out searching for them - they couldn’t simply wait in place until they were found.
Brenna was avoiding being alone with him. He went out each morning to pick up a message from Lord Stobert and when he arrived back at the house around noon, Brenna was gone.
She went to library, she said. She scoured the books for new poultices and medicines. Or she found a quiet corner and practiced with old steel. And she was much clearer when she communicated with him through old steel, proof that she was doing as she’d said but she could have worked with old steel here at the house, with him.
In the evening, after they’d dined with their hosts, Brenna would excuse herself early and retire to their room. By the time he followed, she’d be gone, out into the night.
He’d asked her not to go out at night, of course. She’d told him that she would be careful, that she was keeping her skills sharp - it hadn’t eased his worries. He hated her being out alone, away from his protection.
Last night he hadn’t even pretended to be asleep when she climbed back in the window. He’d been sitting in the chair and she’d practically had to step on him to get into the room. Without a word to him she’d shrugged out of her black clothing and climbed into bed. Eventually he’d stretched out on the floor and fallen asleep. But it hadn’t been restful.
Kane felt that he was