Fae Song EPUB

by Williams , Deonne

  “Yes sir,” Gwynn told him obediently. “I will be.” She scuttled back and took refuge near Shae while Lukan continued his work on Rogue.

  “Don’t feel bad, little one,” he said in a low voice, “I have had my share of dressing down about horse care from those of the Lance. You got off easily; Lukan wasn’t nearly as hard on you as Shelah’s brother Kyndal used to be on me.” Talon knew better than to give someone of the Lance Clan trouble with his feet, so they were done within an hour of their arrival at Lukan’s. Shae paid the farrier, and they had just mounted when Gwynn heard a shout accompanied by the sound of a horse galloping over the cobble stones from the direction of the ferry. She barely had time to move Rogue aside when a chestnut Southronbred with a perfect white diamond on his forehead bore down on them. The destrier 291

  FAE SONG

  planted his front legs, dropped his hind end, and slid to a dramatic sitting stop next to Talon, sparks flying from his shoes. In the blink of an eye, the rider leaped easily from her horse onto Talon, behind Shae, and proceeded to begin thumping on his back with one hand while her other arm was pinned across his chest.

  “Why didn’t you let me know you would be in Samhayne this early?” she howled, her silver vambraces winking in the afternoon sun. Shae broke the woman’s hold on him with a shrug of his broad shoulders, swung his right leg over the front of his saddle and slid to the ground. He seized her around the waist and pulled her from Talon into a bear hug that Gwynn knew would have broken every one of her own ribs.

  “Shelah! Gods, how I have missed you!” Shae exclaimed.

  “Missed me? Is that the best you can do?” Shelah laughed when she raised her head from his shoulder. “You are supposed to miss your—” she stopped suddenly, her eyes growing wide when she stared into his face. “Shae?

  Enara’s spurs, I—I mistook you for Laef! What are you doing here? I never thought to find you in Samhayne, although I had hoped of it.”

  “My baby brother must have grown better looking since I saw him last if you made that mistake,” he told his Oath-sister with a lop-sided grin.

  “Bah!” Shelah chuckled, smacking him on the chest.

  “I have always thought Laef better looking than you, so you are the one who should be flattered. Damn you, Shae, if I weren’t so glad to see you, I would kill you! Have you spent so much time lost in the wild that you have forgotten how to write? Where have you been for the last four years, rashane?”

  At that moment, two more riders, both mounted on 292

  FAE SONG

  bay Southronbreds, followed Shelah’s path, the lead one jumping from his still moving horse. He proceeded to grab Shae around the shoulders and pound on him the same way Shelah had. Shae threw him off, laughing and wrestling the man into a headlock.

  “It’s good to see you again, too, boy.” Shae released him and pulled him upright. “Gods!” He growled, punching the young man lightly on the shoulder. “What has Shelah been feeding you? I’m going to have to stop calling you boy; you’re nearly my height these days.”

  “I am your height,” he laughed as their eyes met,

  “she’s been feeding me well.”

  Gwynn detected a faint accent in his voice that told her, while his instruction had been good, Southron was no more his native language than it was hers. Previous conversations with Shae led Gwyn to identify him as the Crown Prince of Hasdran. She studied them at leisure while they talked to Shae, curious to learn more about two people he knew so well and had spoken of with deep affection.

  Shelah was at least four fingers shorter than Shae and while muscular for a woman, was lean in build. Her golden hair was woven in an intricate braid that hung as far down her back as Gwynn’s did. The vivid emerald green eyes that slanted mischievously above high cheekbones and a refined aquiline nose made Shelah a very striking woman.

  Her gaze then turned to Vaethen, and she was favorably impressed. He seemed to fall perfectly into the songs required of a handsome young prince. He had Shae’s height with dark auburn hair hanging over broad shoulders and striking blue-green eyes. Vaethen also had a charming dimpled grin, which gave him a roguish look that probably endeared him to any woman who crossed his path.

  The last rider had made a more dignified dismount, but had a broad grin when Shae turned to him. “You’re not 293

  FAE SONG

  the first person I expected to see when we arrived in Robatan,” he told Shae, “but you’re a welcome sight.”

  His hair was the sable of the Bow Clan, and his temple streak was bound in a separate braid that hung gleaming against the front of his dark leathers. His blue eyes were a few shades lighter than Shae’s, a fierce steely blue that emphasized his arresting hawk-like features.

  “As are you, Tye,” Shae chuckled as he clasped the man’s forearm. “However,” he continued wryly, “I seem to have forgotten my manners. Our enthusiastic greeting has probably caused my charge to make all kinds of judgments about us. Fortunately, she is overly generous of other people’s failings.” He marched his friends over to Gwynn, who was suddenly glad that she was still mounted when the quartet of tall people bore down on her. Shae smiled at her, his eyes alight with pleasure at the unexpected meeting with his friends. “Kitten, permit me to introduce these reprobates.” Shae deliberately pitched his voice low so that no one other than the foursome could hear him as he continued, “His Highness, Prince Vaethen of Hasdran, Shelah, Kyril’s daughter, and Tye, Rolan’s son, please meet my tashera Gwynn, Gryffyn’s daughter.” She caught the sharp glance between Shelah and Tye at Shae’s use of tashera.

  “I would prefer that you just call me Gwynn.” She offered Vaethen her hand when she spoke, so pleased to meet Shae’s friends that she forgot she had promised herself that she would shield them from feeling the magic that had become so natural to her. She grinned when Vaethen took her hand. “Tell me, Your Highness; is it treason in Hasdran to refer to the Crown Prince as a reprobate to his face?”

  The warm and primeval feel that radiated from Vaethen’s touch called up an old tale about the royal family of Hasdran being closely tied to the land itself. Since Vaethen’s expression didn’t change, Gwynn suspected he 294

  FAE SONG

  was much more comfortable with magic than the Southrons with him were.

  “Not if you are a Lifeguard who has chased me around with a blade in your hand for hours at a time,” he laughed. “However, if you call me Your Highness once more, we’ll see if Shae has lost his touch in the last few years, because I will attempt to strangle his tashera. I’m traveling as a private citizen; Vaethen will do.”

  “As you command, Your—Vaethen,” Gwynn giggled, liking his sense of humor. She reached for Shelah’s hand then. “It’s good to meet you too, Shelah; I have heard quite a bit about you.”

  Shelah swallowed hard at Gwynn’s touch, her emerald eyes widening, but she returned Gwynn’s greeting warmly.

  “There you have the advantage over me, lady bard. You probably shouldn’t believe anything you have been told, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to correct any inaccuracies in Shae’s descriptions of me.”

  Shae grinned, watching his Oath-sister surreptitiously shake her tingling fingers behind her back after Gwynn released them. He wasn’t sure why it amused him to see Shelah react to the magic his charge radiated, but it did.

  “Well met,” Gwynn said when Tye offered his hand,

  “I have a sudden suspicion that Shae is going to suggest that you offer to further my archery skills.”

  “I am at your service, lady bard. It would be a rare pleasure to have so lovely a student,” Tye replied gallantly.

  Raised in the court of Hasdran, magic bothered him no more than it did Vaethen.

  Shae shook his head. “Always the courtier, I’m not so sure that growing up in the royal household has been good for you.”

  “This from the man who has apparently managed to become wergilded to not one, but two, of the loveliest ladies I 295


  FAE SONG

  have ever met,” Tye shot back. “Put steel in your hand rashane and say it again.”

  “Point taken, but we could put it to the test if you choose,” Shae answered smugly. “Gwynn and I were just going in search of a decent inn before going on to Samhayne in the morning. Why don’t we find a good one, have a proper sized dinner, and spend some time catching up?”

  Vaethen answered for the trio. “Splendid idea, Shae.

  Shelah was just telling me on the ferry that the better inns in Robatan are on the south side of the town, is that not so?”

  Shelah didn’t respond. She had already forgotten her reaction to Gwynn, since she was busy studying Rogue, the famed obsession of her Clan with horses having taken over.

  She looked at Gwynn after her appraisal of the gelding. “I have never seen markings like this. Wherever did you find him?” she asked, stroking Rogue’s neck.

  “My grandmother bred him; he’s the last foal out of her old mare, Sparrow. She gave him to me when I left Inishmore.” Gwynn warmed to Shelah instantly. Anyone who liked Rogue was a friend of hers, no matter any other connection they might have. “She got Sparrow somewhere in Wexrin, and she was marked the same, except she was a bay roan. Every foal she threw had a similar coat pattern, but some were bays or blacks with a few bright chestnuts, like Rogue. Don’t let his name mislead you. He’s the sweetest thing Ariadwen ever put on four hooves.”

  “Oh, are you now?” Shelah asked Rogue, scratching his ears expertly. “Just like my Lazar, always ready to have his ears rubbed.” The gelding sighed blissfully and leaned against her, exactly like he did with Gwynn. “Although for all your sweetness, I’ll wager you would run over anyone who stood between you and an apple wouldn’t you?” Rogue whickered deep in his chest and nodded his head. “That’s what I thought,” she laughed and looked at Vaethen. “We 296

  FAE SONG

  might have to send someone to Wexrin and see if we can find any more like him. I love his coloring, and from his build, I’d wager he makes a good horse for hunting.”

  “Gods, Shelah, with the horses you talked your father out of and had sent home, I think you have filled every royal barn in Hasdran.” Vaethen’s tone was indulgent, and Gwynn could tell he was a horse lover too. “Do we really need more horses?”

  “There is no such thing as too many horses,” Shelah insisted. “Besides,” she said, turning a sly gaze at Shae, “I happen to know of one Hasdranian estate where the barns are standing empty, just begging for sweet faces to be gazing out of the stalls.”

  “Go ahead, rashera,” Shae sighed, “you already use the fields for grazing; why not use the barns too. I have always known that if you had not chosen the path of a Lifeguard, you would have stayed in Southron and been content to raise horses until the day you died.”

  “Yes, but by becoming my Lifeguard, Shelah now has royal revenues to support her horse habit,” Vaethen chuckled. “Not that I mind, if given the choice, I would rather raise horses for the rest of my life than spend a single day in my mother’s place. May the Wolf Mother bless her with many years before that day comes,” he finished sincerely.

  Once mounted, they went in search of an inn. There was a bit of good-natured arguing between Shae and Shelah about table quality versus stable quality, but they did find one on which they could agree. The chosen inn was further up the price scale than Gwynn’s usual choice, but with the prospect of a profitable season in Samhayne before her, she didn’t care.

  They ended up with what the landlord grandly called a suite of rooms. Two large well-appointed bedrooms 297

  FAE SONG

  opened off a good-sized sitting room with easy chairs and two long settles. The man was thrilled to have three Lifeguards, an obviously highborn charge, and a bard staying at his inn. He finally left them alone after calling Vaethen

  “My Lord” several times, extracting three promises from Gwynn to sing that night and, having been annoyed enough, Tye and Shae forcibly escorting him out the door.

  Vaethen tossed his saddlebags toward one bedroom and threw himself into an overstuffed chair with a sigh of delight. “There is a lot to be said for creature comforts, especially after spending over a year in Southron’s practical simplicity.”

  “You make it sound like we live in stone huts with tree stumps for seats,” Shelah teased from the other room as she picked up the prince’s saddlebags and stowed them neatly at the foot of one of the beds next to Tye’s. “Since we stayed with Brashaen and Sabra, you didn’t suffer from a lack of creature comforts, Prince of Hasdran. The idea was that spending some time training in Southron would make Vaethen better suited to his future role as a ruler. What he didn’t share with anyone, including me, was that he intended to take testing in all of the Clans.”

  “How did that go?” Shae was curious. Many people came to Southron for training in the martial arts, but successfully passing the rigorous testing of even one of the Clans was almost unheard of for someone without a good deal of Southron blood in their veins.

  Vaethen stretched expansively, a grin on his face.

  “Let’s just say that, if I don’t follow my mother on the throne, I could earn my living as well as any Southron.”

  “Harkir’s Forge!” Shae exclaimed. What Vaethen had succeeded in doing was almost impossible. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”

  “I must confess that having a lot of Southrons around 298

  FAE SONG

  growing up didn’t exactly hurt,” Vaethen admitted. “Kane, Markus, Rolan, and Joren insured that I’ve had a blade in my hand for a long time. As if that wasn’t enough, you, Shelah, and Laef came to Hasdran when I was seventeen, and a year later, Tye and Seth came back from Lifeguard training.

  Furthermore, your father made it his self-appointed duty to have all of his fosterlings chase me around with every imaginable weapon as well.”

  “Give yourself more credit than that,” Shelah said with a snort. “Both of your parents are full-blooded Halan.

  The ability to fight well runs in your veins as much as it does in a Southron’s.”

  “Halan? What is that?” Gwynn asked.

  “The Halan are what the mountain people of Hasdran call themselves,” Shae explained. “They are quite different from the lowlanders, bigger, hardier, and truly formidable fighters. If you can teach a Halan warrior to not automatically mistrust anyone outside of the hills and control his temper, he will give us Southrons a hard and equal fight.”

  The regard in his voice told Gwynn a great deal about the Halan. Southrons were thrifty with their compliments.

  “Then let us just agree that my family’s bloodline and good training from a number of Lifeguards are probably the reasons I managed to do it,” Vaethen said modestly. “Now, if I can just convince Mother and Kane to let me fight in the Wintertide Tournament, my happiness will be complete.”

  “Convince them? You still haven’t convinced me tashar,” Shelah growled, ruffling his hair affectionately.

  “Oh, sooner or later, I will,” Vaethen assured her.

  “Don’t count on it. If something was to happen to you in the arena, Rayna and Kane will hold me responsible.

  Kane, I can handle, but having your mother throw one of her fits of temper is not something I would enjoy.” Shelah shuddered. “I have seen enough of them to be thankful that 299

  FAE SONG

  none of them were ever directed at me.”

  “Put me in that category, as well,” Shae chuckled.

  “The Wolf Lady can be fearsome when angry.”

  Gwynn and Vaethen flipped a coin over which of them got to take a bath first. He was crestfallen when he lost, which Gwynn didn’t help when she told him, “You should never gamble with a bard. We are notoriously lucky.”

  “That they are,” Shae agreed when Gwynn sauntered off to her bath. “Enough so to make me believe that there is such a thing as luck.”

  Shelah barely waited for the door to close behind her befor
e she pounced. “Well?” she asked, tapping Shae’s silver vambraces pointedly. “I see you have put them back on, and you called Gwynn your tashera. What brought that about?”

  “Gwynn did. There are so many things I can tell you about her that would astonish you, but I don’t know where to begin. She carries the Harp of Talaysen, something no other bard had been able to earn under the conditions he laid down at his death over four hundred years ago.” Shae told them the same portions of their meeting and journey that they had shared with Kane and Rayna, including Heralith, although as before, Gryffyn’s name was not mentioned. “If anyone ever gains a true understanding of how powerful she is, I’m not certain that a hundred Lifeguards could keep her safe, but I will give everything that I am to do so. She set me back on my proper path, and the least I could do is offer my oath in return.”

  “You are too generous in your accolades, venchar.”

  Gwynn stood at the door, and Shae realized she had heard his last words. “I owe you much as well. Now, show Vaethen your rirani. I can tell he is quite interested in them.”

  The blades met with the approval of Vaethen and his companions. The prince was plainly envious when he returned them to Shae after a few experimental spins and 300

  FAE SONG

  thrusts. “I don’t suppose you would teach how to me use them?”

  “Of course, I would,” Shae told him, looking forward to finding out how well he could instruct someone else in the Pathani skills he had learned.

  “Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll get the chance to have a set made by the smith who fashioned yours,” Vaethen lamented.

  “Probably not, the Pathani invite few to Heralith,”

  Gwynn said, “but if you could find a smith willing to have a bard present, I would be happy to play over the forging for you.”

  “I would want a Southron smith to do it, so it might take a little convincing, given their feelings about magic, but I usually manage to get what I want.” Vaethen’s tone was smug.