"Will you not be relieved?"
He managed a wan smile. "I will be relieved when we are inside the walls and you are safe."
"I am safe out here," she reminded him. "As are you, with me to guard your back."
He smiled truly then. "Aye, you have that aright. I am grateful for it." He looked up. "Oh. It looks as if he managed it."
Morgan found herself somewhat relieved by the sight of Adhémar riding back their way. He seemed to be very pleased with himself. She supposed she couldn't blame him, but having to listen to him brag about it for the foreseeable future would make for a very tedious ride.
"Come," Adhémar boomed. "I have seen to it all."
Moran pursed her lips. Aye, here it came.
"I will ride ahead, of course, but you may all follow. Slowly," he added. "I will pave the way."
Well, that was something at least.
"Good of you," Morgan muttered.
Miach snorted, but said nothing else. He did smile briefly at her before he urged his horse forward. Slowly.
They made their way slowly up a very long, quite winding road. Morgan was too preoccupied with the blade in her pack and the damned ring as well to pay much heed to her surroundings. She was cold, tired, and nervous. It was work enough to keep her mount on the road.
The day went on endlessly. The snow was blinding in its brightness and the road ceaseless in its twisting and turning.
"Morgan."
Morgan looked at Miach in annoyance. He pointed upward.
Morgan humored him by looking.
She felt her mouth fall open. She didn't even manage to rein her horse in. She simply clutched the reins and gaped, feeling every inch the country miss who had never stepped out of her pigsty.
It was Tor Neroche, perched high above her on the edge of a cliff. Actually, it look as though it had simply grown out of the rock, daring the unwary and the unwashed to venture beneath its mighty shadow. It was terrifying and beautiful all at once.
"Oh," she managed, finally. "It's magnificent. "
He smiled. It seemed something of a sad smile, which only made sense if he wished such a place might have been his. Morgan shook her head.
"Do not envy the king this palace," she said, struggling to master her own surprise. "I imagine he longs for a garden such as yours and the peace with which to farm it."
"Think you?" Miach asked quietly.
"I daresay. Though this is a bloody impressive palace, isn't it?" she managed. "And these just the outer walls." She paused. "Are they guarded by magic in truth, or is that rumor, do you suppose?"
"I've heard that magic was woven into the foundations," he said slowly. "I imagine it finds itself everywhere here."
Morgan shivered. "Dreadful."
"Safe."
"But at what price?"
Miach nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose."
Morgan rode on for quite some time under the shadow of those enormous outer walls. She supposed there wasn't a ladder built tall enough to touch their crenelated tops, nor a lad born brave enough to try to scale them. The wall was made of massive granite blocks, held together with heaven only knew what, and tilting out at an alarming angle that gave those who rode under them the impression that they were about to be crushed beneath them.
At least she had that impression.
