The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  Julien shrugged on the bear-cloak and retrieved the horses from where they nosed through the snow to graze.

  “Oh, Julien!” I breathed. “He’s beautiful!”

  Salvador’s white mane and silver-gray coat reflected the moonlight and snow as if they were working together to camouflage his giant form. Many hands taller than Stanza and much more muscular, Salvador was, quite easily, the largest horse I had ever seen.

  I walked the short distance to the huge animal. “So this is your overgrown lamb.”

  Salvador looked down at me, strength and intelligence clearly visible in his greenish-gray eyes. He took a step forward and made a soft, whinnying sound. I held my hand up to caress his muzzle, the bottom of which was above my head. For such size, he appeared to have an almost regal grace about him.

  Salvador sniffed my wrist as I touched his nose and startled me by moving suddenly closer and lowering his massive head to rest on my shoulder.

  With a gentle, steady motion, Salvador moved his head from one of my shoulders to the other before retreating two steps back. I moved to approach him, but Julien stopped me with a hand to my arm.

  “Wait.”

  Salvador extended his left foreleg while bending the right. He lowered his head.

  “He knows who you are,” Julien said softly. “He is offering his fealty.”

  It was a beautiful thing to see. Reverent. My hand fluttered to my chest. “Even discounting his size,” I whispered, “he is not a normal horse, is he?”

  “No,” I could hear the smile in his voice, “he is not. He is Alvarro.”

  “Alvarro? That is a breed?”

  “The Alvarro are quite rare. When they bond to a human, it is an intense bond. They are a very special breed.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I walked over to the majestic creature and gently touched his head. He arose and nuzzled my face with his. Closing my eyes, I leaned into the massive head, pleased with the ease at which I could sense his thoughts.

  Salvador was more than a horse. He was, for lack of a better term, a knight in his own way, a sentient, emotive animal whose commitment to duty was clear, though in a more primitive, straightforward form than I had yet seen in the thoughts of another.

  I sighed, resting my head against Salvador’s neck. “Sir Julien, I do believe I love your horse.”

  Julien grinned and patted Salvador’s flank. “It appears the feeling is mutual. Are you ready to ride?”

  Salvador’s head bobbed. I laughed. “I supposed that settles it! Let’s go.”

  We started at a fast canter and gradually increased to a light, steady gallop. I passed the time attuning myself to the way the horses reasoned as we traversed the Wood. When I’d learned I was Andoven, I hadn’t even considered that my abilities to communicate without audible words would stretch beyond humanity, but the discovery was beyond fascinating.

  I stiffened when a sudden tension and alertness came from Salvador. Julien slowed down enough to veer off the trail and Salvador took us down an incline out of sight of the path. The other horses followed his lead and my gift picked up the first prickling colors of fear from my companions.

  Julien slid off the mount and put his finger to his lips. He pointed at me, tapped his ear, and placed two fingers on his forehead, giving me permission to listen in on his thoughts.

  Lily and Aunt Alaine leaned into their mounts and stroked their necks to keep them still. Eneth copied their behavior. I stayed in the saddle, but Julien crept up the incline the way we had come. He’d almost reached the trail when I heard the horses. A moment later my head ached from the cacophony of thoughts of their riders.

  Focus on Sir Julien, Lily’s voice broke through my dizziness. Only him.

  I concentrated on picturing his face and let the vision of the gold of his hair and the emerald of his eyes draw me into his thoughts. As soon as I was able to separate Julien’s colors from those of my immediate companions and the oncoming riders, I mentally reached for the strands of gray Lily and Aunt Alaine had taught me to seek. A foggy sort of ripple coated my mind, bringing with it a clarity that could, with a bit of effort, selectively block other distractions and help me to focus on what I sought. Julien. The chaos in my mind gradually faded.

  The riders made no attempt at subtly as they approached. Salvador stood still as death. For a moment I kindled the thought that it was a regiment of the King’s men, sent to escort us. But one clear message from Julien quenched my hope.

  Enemies! His thought shouted. Stay hidden!

  It seemed an eternity before the sound of the horses died away and Julien returned, his expression grave.

  “Dwonsil warriors,” he reported. “We must stay off the road.”

  Like his father the Regent, Julien thought of what we’d been traveling on as a “road”? Unbelievable.

  “Don’t worry.” In the darkness he misinterpreted my sigh. “Salvador knows the way.” He paused, looking off through the dark trees. “It will be a lesser distance, but a harder ride. We’re not far from Fyrlean Manor now and should arrive in about two hours’ time.”

  Julien mounted and spoke softly in my ear. “I had hoped to stay to the road a while longer for the sake of the others, but this way is faster and much safer.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “You and your father have a rather broad definition of the word ‘road,’ don’t you think?”

  His silent laugh vibrated against my back and the breath of it tickled my ear as he grabbed the reins. “Home, Salvador.”

  It was slow going at times, making our way through the bracken and bramble of the Wood, and although it was no challenge for Salvador or Stanza, we kept to a slower pace for the benefit of Aunt Alaine’s and Eneth’s much smaller horses.

  As the first hint of dawn appeared ahead of us, I entwined my fingers in Salvador’s silky mane. At my touch he seemed to add a bounce to his step. I giggled and turned my smile to Julien. His eyes reflected my mirth as he leaned his head toward my ear.

  “Salvador is no doubt anxious for his comfortable stall and the groom who knows his fondness for a certain variety of oats!”

  We paused on the crest of a hill and I had my first glimpse of Fyrlean Manor in the early morning sun. In my limited experience I would have called it a castle, though Julien assured me later that it was not. Whatever it was, it was breathtaking. Built of a warm, reddish-brown stone that reached three stories, each corner was marked by a square turret and I could just make out the forms of guards, pacing on high.

  The huge manor house and other buildings of the keep were surrounded by a high and heavily guarded wall made of the same stone as the structures. The gates were of iron.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Julien’s pleasure was evident as he took in the scene before him. I could tell he appreciated my reaction to it. His eyes turned more serious as he said, “Many who guard and serve within Fyrlean Manor have spent time in service to the King. Even those who did not meet Queen Daithia have seen her portrait in Castle Rynwyk. They are loyal to the crown, but I don’t think the time is right to reveal you just yet.”

  I nodded and pulled my hood further down in front of my face. Then, as if he could not wait a moment longer, Salvador led us down the hill and to the western gates.

  The guards recognized Julien and Salvador.

  “Sir Julien approaches!” A shout announced the arrival of the Regent’s son and the guards bowed as they opened the gates. Julien nodded, and without a word we rode around to the front of the manor where three grooms already awaited us. We left the horses with them.

  As we approached the house, the front door burst open and a boy ran down the steps. With a whoop, he vaulted over a side railing to speed his passage toward us.

  As he came closer, I noticed a long, blond braid bouncing off his back. Odd. On closer inspection, however, I realized that the feminine features on the youth belonged not to a lad, but instead, to a petite young woman.

  Julien laughed, picked her up, and
swung her around. “What have you done with my sister, little squire?”

  “Oh, Julien! Quit your teasing.”

  When she punched his arm I could barely contain my grin. So this is Erielle, Gladiel’s adventurous daughter!

  I watched their reunion from a short distance away, suddenly homesick for my brothers in Veetri. But my reverie was broken by a shout.

  “Julien!” I turned toward the woman’s cry. “Julien!”

  Julien embraced the woman and swiftly turned to us. “Mother, Erielle, may I present Lady Drinius, her daughter Lily, and her ward,” he faltered just a moment, “Rose.”

  My head was covered and my face was shadowed by the hood of my cloak, but still I kept my eyes to the ground as I bobbed a curtsy.

  “Ladies, this is my mother, Willo al Gladiel, and my sister, Erielle.”

  Erielle curtsied, not in the least bit impeded by her masculine attire. Lady Gladiel greeted both Lily and me before moving forward to embrace Aunt Alaine.

  “Alaine,” she said. “It has been much too long. Come in now and refresh yourselves. I would imagine you’ve had quite a ride!” With her arm around my aunt’s shoulders, Julien’s mother ushered us inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Lady Gladiel led us up an impressive brown marble staircase and into a large chamber.

  “You may wait here while I see that rooms are readied for you.” She turned to go, but Julien followed.

  “Mother, might I have a word?”

  “Of course.” Lady Gladiel turned to her boyishly dressed daughter. “Erielle, would you alert the staff to see to refreshments?”

  Julien returned moments later. “Lady Drinius, Lady Lily, you are welcome at Fyrlean Manor for as long as you desire to stay.” He turned to me. “We’ll rest for a few days and make preparations for our journey.”

  “Sir Julien,” Aunt Alaine stepped forward and took my hand. “What route do you plan to take to reach Tirandov Isle?”

  “From here we’ll ride east until we hit Dynwey Road,” he said. “We’ll follow it all the way to Port Dyn and await the King’s scribe there.”

  “Wouldn’t it be faster,” I said, thinking back to the collection of maps Koria had forced me to study at length, “if we traveled through Shireya’s foothills?”

  “It’s too dangerous.” Julien shook his head. “The King’s men patrol Dynwey Road and most of the villages along it.” His brow furrowed. “Our departure may be delayed a bit while we try to devise some sort of disguise for you.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. His face suddenly brightened, but his tone was dry when he said, “I may seek my sister’s help with the matter. Erielle has been known to disguise herself in the past. And I must say she is quite . . . creative.”

  I sensed there was a story there, but a maid entered with a tray that made my stomach remember how long it had been since we’d eaten.

  After we partook of the refreshments offered, the maid led us to our rooms where deep and fragrant tubs of steaming water awaited us. I could not suppress my grin when I noticed the hot-water apparatus that Sir Gladiel’s brother Ayden had designed.

  “If you leave your garments on the bed,” the maid curtsied, “I will pick them up and have them cleaned for you.” She pulled the drapes closed. “Would you like me to stay and assist you with your hair?”

  “No, thank you.”

  With another quick curtsy the maid excused herself, leaving the door ajar. Julien was still in the hall, speaking with two armed guards. He motioned for me to join him.

  “Lady Rose, these men will be posted outside your door. Should you need anything, or have any fear, they will be at the ready. My chamber adjoins your own, so do not hesitate to call upon me.”

  “Thank you.” I curtsied to the guards, careful to keep the hood over my face, and turned to enter the chamber.

  Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, sighing with the pleasure of being alone. My chamber was furnished with rich mahogany pieces, some covered with upholsteries patterned in gold and emerald green. It reminded me of the colors that kissed my mind each time I thought of Julien. But of course it should be like him. This was his home.

  Home.

  The word brought both fondness and pain. As I undressed and lowered my aching limbs into the warm water, my mind lingered on the images it recalled. Home had been with Uncle Drinius, Aunt Alaine, and Lily until my father ordered me to Veetri. But Veetri had become my home as well, as had the Bear’s Rest, even though it would never claim the same fondness in my heart as Mirthan Hall.

  Suddenly, I felt lost. My father’s parchment had called Castle Rynwyk my true home, but I’d never been there. How would a Veetrish country girl like me ever fit in at the castle of the King?

  As I scrubbed my hair I recalled the look upon Julien’s face when we were on the ridge overlooking Fyrlean Manor. Was there a place for which I might someday have that same pride, that same sense of belonging?

  I rinsed the soap from my hair, and with a heavy sigh I climbed out of the tub.

  After I dressed I dug through my saddlebag until I found a brush and comb and began the long process of untangling my hair. When I finished with that dreaded chore I repositioned a chair closer to the fire and draped my hair over its back, toward the heat. I must have dozed, because when Julien’s knock on the door adjoining our rooms awakened me, my hair was nearly dry.

  Oh. My breath caught in my throat and my hand stole up to the place where it waited. Oh, my.

  Gone were the heavy garments necessary for winter travel, replaced with an ivory and gold embroidered vest over a simple beige shirt and fawn-colored breeches. His hair had been trimmed, but it was still a bit damp and had begun to curl around the nape of his neck. Standing on the threshold between our rooms, his manner exuded confidence. He seemed taller, almost as if being in his own home had increased his already impressive stature.

  I dropped my eyes, but I didn’t blush until I realized that he had been appraising me as well.

  “If you’re hungry,” he said finally, “I’ve a table laid out in my chamber.”

  The refreshments we’d had upon our arrival had satisfied me for a little while, but the bath and nap had reinvigorated my need for something more substantial.

  Julien’s chamber was the exact opposite of mine. Instead of mahogany, the wood was a golden oak and the upholstery was a whitish gold with hints of green. Open curtains let in the bright sunshine of a late-morning sky and it danced in dots of light across the walls as it reflected on a glimmering chandelier that was somehow elegant and masculine at the same time.

  Julien held a chair for me.

  “At Fyrlean Manor, as in Castle Rynwyk,” he explained as he took the chair across from mine, “we speak a blessing over our food before we partake of it. In my condition of late, I fell out of the habit. But if you don’t mind . . . ?”

  “Please.” I was no stranger to the practice, although it was a ritual irregularly performed before meals at Mirthan Hall—and even less frequently at the Bear’s Rest after Uncle Drinius left us. Tradition dictated that I should close my eyes and lift my face as Julien did. But when he closed his eyes I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze from his face.

  “We are grateful for the protection that saw us safely home,” he began. His words were simple, but he was beautiful saying them. As he spoke it was as if he’d been transported elsewhere, carried to a place of affection I could not follow, but if allowed within, I would find utterly serene.

  It gave me cause to wonder, but not for long. As soon as he finished the blessing he filled my plate first and then his own.

  I quickly took my first bite so he wouldn’t have to wait. The food was wonderful, but Julien seemed preoccupied.

  “Is something amiss? You’re quieter than usual.”

  “Am I? I’m sorry.” He paused. “Being here with you makes everything seem so much more real than it did at the Bear’s Rest.”

  “What do you mean?”


  “I suppose it’s a number of things. For one thing, your hair is . . .” he paused, as if searching for the right word, “different.”

  “Different how?” I laughed, well knowing the answer. “I believe the word you are looking for, most gallant knight, is clean.”

  He grinned. “Well, that certainly doesn’t hurt.” He chuckled. “But unbound, cascading as it is, it catches the light and I can see more of that hint of flame you’ve inherited from the Queen. It’s truly lovely.”

  He took another bite, but by the way his brow furrowed again I could tell he was chewing on more than food.

  “Your resemblance to the Queen does present a bit of a problem,” he said. “We must endeavor to keep you out of sight while you are here.”

  “Even from your mother and sister?” I asked.

  “They understand the nature of discretion,” he said, “but it would be a big shock for them to learn the truth.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. I should have expected as much. “Of course.”

  “They would, however, be given much hope by seeing you.” Julien took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “I will speak to Lady Alaine. If she agrees, perhaps you may meet them later, if that would please you.”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed. “Very much!”

  He smiled and set his napkin over his now empty plate. “If you’ll excuse me then, Your Highness, I’ll see to it at once.”

  I made a face. “I thought we were letting off with that.”

  “Pardon me, Lady Rose.” He winked and left me to finish my meal alone.

  With little else to occupy me while Julien spoke with Aunt Alaine, and hopefully, his mother and sister, I returned to my own chamber and paced. After examining the curtains, the furniture, even the beams of the ceiling, my eyes caught on a tapestry. I stepped closer to examine it more thoroughly.

  The design was one of the most intricate I’d ever seen. I couldn’t imagine the hours spent creating such a masterpiece. In the center of a multihued green background, a bear stood on its hind legs. Embroidered in shades of bronze and brown and gold, it looked so real that I almost took a step back. Instead, I stepped closer.