Taking her cues from watching Darris and Matrinka, Kevral caught both of Ra-khir’s hands and stared into soulful green eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes so rare for a redhead. Her eyes drank in handsome features, scarcely noticing the bruises that marred his face. Unexpected warmth flashed through her lower regions, embarrassing for its newness, and a craving for closeness thrilled through her.
Ra-khir embraced Kevral, and the sensation intensified until it overcame other thought. She reveled in the heat and comfort of his body against her own, the pleasure a guilty one. For the moment she did not care. Recalling her regrets in the prison cell, she promised herself not to let propriety stand in her way. Renshai society encouraged marriage within the tribe, but they made regular exceptions for spouses who could bring new assets into the bloodline. Ra-khir had strength, at least. And he followed his honor loyally, even if it did not fully fit in with her own. Wickeder thoughts followed. So far, everyone who’d attempted their mission had died, including Renshai. Her days of imprisonment had convinced Kevral that, no matter how glorious her death, she did not want to die a virgin. Preventing that did not necessarily require marriage.
Ra-khir released Kevral, and she caught sight of a brief flash of smile as they slid apart. In the past, she would never have allowed him to touch her. Now, she dared not tell him their closeness had brought her as much pleasure as it did him. As the area of contact decreased, the strength of her need diminished, and embarrassment replaced excitement. She flushed, feeling whorish for her previous thoughts. She wanted to slip away and hide, but she fought it away. Matrinka had described the lengths to which Ra-khir had gone to rescue her. Like Tae, he had agreed to die in her place; unlike Tae, he had had no innocence or guilt to dispute. “Thank you for what you did for me.”
“I could have done nothing else. I hope to the gods I’m never again placed in the position of choosing between love and honor.”
Kevral lowered her head to hide a smile, afraid she might laugh nervously if she met his gaze now. She concentrated on the inherent difficulty of his decision, placing herself in his position. Honor bound him to let her die since she had willingly agreed to the execution. Yet, the agony of watching an innocent friend killed had seemed unbearable. In the reverse situation, Renshai law would have allowed her to rescue him, even should it mean battling Pudar’s army. But the knight’s code placed its emphasis on laws rather than morality. Usually, the two went together, but as Colbey once said, “Rigid laws do not make allowance for circumstance.” So Ra-khir had sought to save her the only way he could, successfully it turned out, though it nearly cost him his life.
What caught Kevral’s attention most right now was Ra-khir’s mention of love. She did not know for certain whether he meant that in a romantic or a brotherly way, but she suspected it would soon become clear. Only one thing complicated the possibility of a relationship with Ra-khir. She had not yet clarified her feelings for Tae, nor his for her. And she owed him a thank you, too.
Darris interrupted Ra-khir’s and Kevral’s moment. “We’re all loaded and ready to go.” He addressed Ra-khir. “Did you have a horse preference?”
Ra-khir stiffened momentarily in response. He missed the gray steed he had ridden through his knight’s training. The formality of knights suggested he had undergone an important initiation ceremony during which they had awarded him the horse that would remain a companion until he earned his title. Then he would receive one of the elaborately accomplished and perfectly proportioned white stallions that all the Knights of Erythane rode. Kevral enjoyed horses. Colbey had considered himself an excellent judge of quality as well as a skilled rider. He had actually invented most of the Renshai’s mounted maneuvers. Although he valued horses, history stated that he had never tied himself sentimentally to individual animals, not even to the point of giving them names. When Ra-khir finally spoke, his tone revealed no sorrow or bitterness for his loss. “The two are equal. I have no favorite among them.” He headed outside with the others.
Kevral followed, closing the cottage behind her. They had lived there long enough to consider it home, yet Kevral felt only relief at leaving. They had delayed their mission far too long.
Darris had fastened all the packs to one of the dark brown horses. He assisted Matrinka to mount before claiming his own horse. Ra-khir hesitated beside Kevral’s bay.
Kevral stood a moment, searching her own feelings for an answer.
Ra-khir bowed. “Lady, if I admit that I know you’re quite capable of getting up yourself, would you let me practice the etiquette slammed into my head since birth?”
Kevral returned the smile. “Since you’ve made it sound so irresistible. . . .” She waited for him to help, though she felt silly. Their dwindling pool of money had forced them to sell saddles and bridles for cruder ones of cracked leather and rope. That made leaping into position less dignified and more difficult.
Ra-khir stabilized Kevral as she clambered onto the horse’s back, more concerned about accidentally kicking or gouging him than over mounting. Once she settled into place, Ra-khir climbed onto the remaining horse.
They moved slowly along the cobbled streets, hooves clopping rhythmically against the stones. Though far from the marketplace, Darris still worried about citizens on the streets. Traffic had increased even over Pudar’s busy norm since the mourning curfew had lifted. The pace did not matter to Kevral. The simple act of moving excited her. The mild breeze that accompanied motion seemed a welcome friend after weeks cooped up in a cottage and days in a stagnant cell. The promise of romance added an additional tingle to the mix, and her heart relished the possibilities though she did not allow her thoughts to do the same.
Rows of cottages disappeared behind them. They kept to the smaller roadways, avoiding the main thoroughfares and their teeming shops. Occasional shouts of merchants punctuated the dull roar of the masses, drawing potential customers to stands of jewelry, food, spices, and wares of every kind. For centuries, Pudar’s central Western location, its land and water access, and its manner of rulership had made it the center of commerce. Its significance and the variety of its products had only increased through generations.
At length, they came to the wall, Darris in the lead. They followed it to the main exit, merging into the stream of patrons. Here, the stands abounded with more luxuries than necessities, merchants attempting to win travelers’ last coins, promising treasures and souvenirs for those waiting at home. Travel food replaced the fresher wares sold nearer the entrance. The horses proved as much handicap as asset. They could move more quickly, yet Kevral found herself a magnet for merchants’ attention. The sellers assumed people with enough money to purchase mounts had coppers to waste. Also, horsemen usually had farther to travel, suggesting a need for more supplies. On one side, a heavyset salesman in gray shoved salted meats into Kevral’s hand, while another regaled her with the merits of spreading a blanket between her backside and the weathered saddle. Kevral ignored both, only to be assaulted a moment later by a woman pushing dried fruit.
Kevral had learned to avoid eye contact while shopping in the market, and she put the knowledge to use now. Matrinka fared far worse. Her fancier, feminine garb attracted the merchants hawking perfumes, silks, and gemstones. Finally, Ra-khir pulled up beside her to stem the tide on one side. Taking the hint, Kevral drew to her other hand. Concentrating on the need to guard, Kevral paid no heed to the merchants. In this manner, they bulled through to the exit with little more delay.
Even after they passed through the gates, the onslaught did not end. Outside, artists, farmers, and others without the money for shops or stands inside hawked crafts, flowers, and vegetables or spoke in grandiose phrases about religions beyond Kevral’s knowledge. These, too, they passed with scarcely a glance. They had nearly plowed through the last persistent stragglers, when a familiar voice speared through the crowd. “Kevral! Kevral, wait!”
Tae? Kevral whirled, and Ra-khir did the same in perfect synchrony. Matrinka’s horse t
ook a few steps ahead before she stopped it to see what had caught her companions’ attention.
Tae perched casually on a boulder, a slight smile on his lips, his black hair wild around a swarthy face that seemed little affected by the events of the past few days. Kevral tossed her reins to Ra-khir and dismounted before he could suggest a different plan. As Kevral headed toward him, Tae climbed down leisurely. She met him at the base of the stone, and they embraced warmly. Again, Kevral found herself embroiled in the fires of longing, more so because Tae practiced none of Ra-khir’s manners. The Easterner squished up against her, one hand straying to her buttocks to draw her closer.
Ra-khir cleared his throat.
Tae and Kevral separated. She said, “I heard you gave yourself up for me. Thank you.”
Tae raised and lowered his brows, an acknowledgment that held none of Ra-khir’s modesty. “I sure wasn’t going to let them kill you for something I did.”
Kevral froze, only halfway free of Tae’s hug. “You did kill the prince?”
“I don’t know,” Tae admitted. “If I did, I certainly didn’t do it on purpose.”
The answer confused Kevral.
Tae dismissed the matter with a promise. “I’ll explain on the way. And you’ll have to tell me exactly what you promised King Kill-me-on.” Deliberately twisting the king’s name, he looked beyond Kevral to Ra-khir. “That is, if I’m allowed to join up with you again.”
Kevral stepped away from Tae, twisting to face Ra-khir. Surely, he understood that he, alone, did not decide who would or would not join them. She did not voice this, however; she could always overrule him later. For now, she was more interested in his response.
Ra-khir closed his eyes, though not before Kevral caught a flash of pain. He had other reasons to keep Tae from the party than trust, yet he would not allow personal desire to determine a course of action better based on fairness. Slowly, he opened his eyes, focusing only on Tae. “Thank you, Tae, for surrendering yourself and for all the good things you did for us, though I did not deserve them. I judged you wrong, and I’m sorry for that mistake. Of course, you may join us again. With my blessing.”
Kevral looked back to see Darris and Matrinka already redistributing packs to allow Tae a mount of his own. She headed toward them to help, realized they would finish before she arrived, and stopped. She glanced back to Tae and Ra-khir, only to find both men admiring her from behind. Ra-khir looked away quickly, shamefaced. Tae shrugged off his actions with a brazen grin and a knowing wink. He shifted his attention from her buttocks to her face but made no attempt to apologize or even to acknowledge his conduct as anything but perfectly appropriate.
The men’s interest and attention brought warmth and redness to Kevral’s cheeks, and she turned back to the horses pretending she had not seen. But she had. And, where nothing in war could fluster her, this did. While she could not help but find their attention flattering, it seemed equally bothersome and confusing. The strange emotions blossoming inside her brought as much pain as pleasure; they made her feel helpless and uncertain, feelings she had learned to despise since birth. Neither served well on the battlefield.
Without another word, Kevral mounted her horse and waited for the others to do the same. She did not meet any of her companions’ gazes, instead rechecking the ties of her pack while the others climbed into place.
Discomfort remained with Kevral throughout the rest of the day and into a dinner of travel rations she scarcely tasted and conversation she mostly ignored. Only her sword practice brought reprieve. Then, she concentrated fully on the maneuvers, the mundane worries of the day disappearing into a salvo of thrust and parry, a daily challenge that always seemed fresh and new. She continued her deadly dance well after nightfall when her friends bedded down for sleep. Though not on purpose, she cherished the freedom from talk that working so long gained her.
Kevral sheathed her sword, reveling in the trill of insects, the whirring fox calls, and the chitter of leaves in the late summer breezes. The wind dried sweat from her limbs, prickling her skin into gooseflesh. Glimpses of moon and stars appeared and disappeared as the branches swayed; and a mild, steady glaze bathed the small clearing amid the trees they had chosen for their campsite. Ra-khir slept curled on his side beneath his blanket, breath stirring a leaf near his face. The strawberry-blond locks accentuated features handsome even in sleep. Tae rested at the opposite side of the clearing, leaf- and twig-dirty blanket tumbled around his legs. He lay on his belly, arms and legs drawn beneath him, tangled black hair a curtain that hid his features. Darris formed the last point of a triangle, a comfortable distance from the other men. He, too, slept. Matrinka sat near him, Mior quiet in her lap. As usual, the men had deferred first watch to her just as they often gave the last one to Kevral. Those two times disrupted sleep the least.
Looking at the men brought all of her confusion rushing back. Forgetting about the problem had not in any way resolved it, nor, she discovered, had it made her thoughts or approach clearer. She glanced at Matrinka with a nod, and the princess returned a cheerful wave. Kevral knew the problem would worry sleep from her. Chatting with Matrinka until she became so tired no amount of mulling could keep sleep at bay seemed preferable. So she inclined her head toward an open area slightly away from the others where they might talk undisturbed.
Matrinka nodded, removing Mior from her lap and moving cautiously away from Darris so as not to awaken him. She joined Kevral, Mior trailing. Matrinka settled onto a rock, Mior lay at her feet, and Kevral chose a cross-legged position in the dirt. For several moments, time seemed to run backward, to the day Kevral had dedicated herself to guarding the Béarnian heir assigned to her. Despite the threat of assassination, those had seemed like more innocent times. Circumstances had changed little, but Kevral felt like a totally different person. Then, she would never have asked the advice of the woman she protected. Now, she relished it, and the words came tumbling forth before she could think to stop them. “I have a problem.”
Matrinka touched the Renshai’s arm in a soothing manner, and Kevral never doubted the other woman’s sincere desire to assist. The princess would not push, allowing Kevral to detail the situation in her own fashion and at her own pace, and their conversation would go no further than the two of them. Kevral saw no need to extract a promise of confidentiality. It would be an insult. Yet, despite the comfort Matrinka offered, Kevral still found it difficult to express her concerns. Unused to sharing and accustomed to hiding imperfections beneath a facade of confidence, she did not know where to start.
Matrinka waited patiently, without pressing. She sat in companionable silence, features gentle, waiting for Kevral to speak.
Kevral debated whether to address the problem. For the moment, it seemed easier to avoid it and let small talk take her mind from it a bit longer. Yet she knew it would return to haunt her as soon as she found herself alone again. Renshai did not avoid matters without better reason than emotion. “I think I’m in love with two men at once.”
Matrinka nodded to indicate she had heard, but she did not push for details nor did she assume an expression that suggested she was trying to surmise them or consider the morality of it. Without a word, she allowed Kevral to finish.
But Kevral only looked at her, deliberately placing the burden on Matrinka.
Matrinka accepted the new role. “How do you feel about that?”
“I’m not sure,” Kevral admitted, glancing around to make certain none of the men stirred, not wanting them to hear her words or see her display weakness. None of the three moved, all breathing in the deep, steady pattern of sleep. Kevral and Matrinka kept their voices low enough so they had to strain to understand one another, even as close as they sat. “The whole idea of love feels strange enough without having to make a choice, too. I don’t know what I want, except not to hurt anyone. I’ve seen girls tease boys before. I hate the flirting, and I hate the kind of girls who do it. I wouldn’t know how to do that even if I wanted to.” The idea re
volted Kevral. “And I don’t.”
“How do the men feel about you?” Matrinka asked an important question.
“Well, I can’t be sure.” Kevral felt the heat returning to her cheeks. “But I think they care about me, too.”
“Both?”
“Both,” Kevral confirmed. “But I can’t really know, can I?” She shrugged. “So what do I do?”
“What do you want to do?”
As not knowing the answer to that was exactly her problem, Kevral turned irritable. “Why do you keep answering my questions with another question?”
Matrinka smiled. “Why not?”
“Because. . . .” Kevral started, then recognized the joke. “Funny.”
Matrinka gave a proper reply, “I respond to your questions with other questions because the answers need to come from inside you, not from me.”
Kevral frowned, annoyed by Matrinka’s words. “So you’re saying you can’t help me.”
Matrinka recoiled, clearly horrified. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I certainly hope I can help you. If in no other way, then by assisting you in finding the right questions.”
Kevral just stared.
“I can tell you what I would do in your situation, but that’s not really going to help you.”
The circular reasoning wore on Kevral. “Just give me some advice, if you would. Believe me, I won’t follow it blindly.”
Matrinka pursed her lips thoughtfully. She reached over and stroked Mior without taking her gaze from Kevral. “All right, then. Here’s what I think: When it comes to affairs of the heart, you should follow your heart.”
Kevral knew of highly regarded teachers who spoke in riddles to force students to think. Though it frustrated her, Kevral felt Matrinka stated the truth in that only Kevral could find an answer to this problem. At best, Matrinka could guide, and the simple act of vocalizing had already begun to ease the burden of a difficult decision. Then realization intervened. Kevral’s eyes narrowed at the discrepancy. “In affairs of the heart, one should follow one’s heart.”
Beyond Ragnarok Page 62