I feel my lips fall open in surprise at the harshness of his words. He’s a kind person. I’ve seen him with Hessa and his men. I’ve watched his gentle tolerance of Lady Fliad. He’s not harsh. But his words still sting.
“We must have peace. You understand?”
I think this is saying a lot for him.
“I don’t think I d – do,” I say between numb lips.
“Your marriage will buy us peace. The fae king has said so. The moment after your vows are spoken he will withdraw his soldiers and the dying will end.”
Something burns hot and desperate behind those thick lashes and it’s not desire for me or any woman. It’s desire for peace. Longing for an end to war. I feel like it’s infecting me, catching alight my own heart.
I nod and he nods with me, and I realize our faces are so close that my hair has fallen into his face.
“You need this,” I say but it’s too bare, too personal. It feels like an invasion, so I soften it with, “We all need this.”
And his nodding now is fervent.
“There must not be the barest hint of impropriety,” he says firmly.
I nod my agreement and this time when he draws back and tries to boost me onto the stallion, I struggle until I’m on his high back, clinging to the wet hair that smells of horse.
Sir Oakensen mounts the stallion behind me and turns him into the swirling snow – snow that looks the same on every side to me, but somehow, we are on a path that he can make out. He guides the horse through the fury of the storm – and through our wet layers upon layers of clothing, I can still feel his warmth at my back and that and the memory of his burning eyes keep me clinging to the back of the horse until we walk through the parting snow and are suddenly inside a small hamlet, stopping beside a snow-encrusted inn, and trying to bend frozen limbs to dismount.
11
HALDUR OAKENSEN
Inearly didn’t find her in that storm. How she ended up there without her horse and apart from the rest of us – well, I have my suspicions, but I do not know for certain.
I scrub my hand over my face with relief as we ride. It also helps to clear the thoughts that have been cycling around and around in my mind. Thoughts of warming her by a fire. Thoughts of warming her with my skin. Thoughts I have no right to entertain. I’m honor-bound to protect her and lead her –unhurt, yes, but also untouched – to her bridegroom. I am not he. More than that, if I look at that with open eyes, I will admit – even to myself – that in a choice between marrying this girl myself or using her to buy peace, I would still buy peace. The thought of that sets my teeth on edge. I’m proud of my resolve and disgusted with my heartlessness all at once.
I try to turn my thoughts to the mystery of her disappearance. Should I question her? Should I investigate it?
We’re days still from our destination. I must not allow this to happen again. But stirring up matters with Lady Fliad can help nothing. And if it was not her doing, then blustering at Iva for her carelessness will also not prevent future danger. She’s cold through and miserable. That’s enough warning for anyone. My men do not need lectures. They will already be hanging their heads at their lapse.
I’ll let it rest but redouble my own efforts. That’s the solution.
We reach the village in a cloud of snow and just in time. My stallion is huffing and worn. He needs stabling and a good rub down.
I dismount and help Iva down as Rhurc comes running out to take my reins. He won’t meet my eye and a flare of worry shoots through me.
Horace, Rangen, Gragor, and Trellan come pouring out the inn door. Gragor’s eyes are red. They should all be abed by now. My worry ratchets up. I look around us. Is there an enemy threat? I see nothing in the swirling snow.
“We were seeing to the horses,” Horace says and Rangen makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat like he thinks this is a poor beginning but too late to start again now. “None of us were there. We didn’t see it.”
“See what?” I ask but I feel ice forming in my belly. I don’t like the sound of this. I gently steer Iva into the direction of Rhurc and I hear him murmuring to her about going inside the stables to warm up while he settles my stallion. Good. She’ll be safe with him.
“He had a pair of snowcat kits,” Gragor says, looking miserably at the ground. “The Lady Fliad bid me look at them, and as I was leaning over them, he grabbed me by the neck and hauled me back.”
“Who?” I ask.
“A knight from Castle Rainsdale. Returning from managing a problem on his lands,” Rangen says, and his face is pale. “We convinced him to wait for your arrival before he carries out … well, he’s calling it justice. We told him only you can determine a sentence for your vassal.”
My belly rolls and my throat tightens. I look from face to face. The four of them have the look of men who are about to be ill and Rhurc has vanished with Iva like a child fleeing the wrath of a parent.
“He blames me for their deaths,” Gragor says heavily. “But they were dead already when I looked at them. I touched them and they were cold.”
I grunt, thinking fast. “There were witnesses.”
