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Her surprise becomes a wry grin as, from her new perch, she says, “Being so big must often be convenient.”
For a moment, I get caught up in her.Why is it so compelling to watch her face come alive with whatever she’s feeling?I think I even look forward to the mystery of what will come next . . . I grimace.What has come over me?
“Perhaps Elsy has a tonic for that.”
I shake my head as if to clear it. “What?”
“A tonic,” she repeats. “My mother used to feed me a good dose of prunes when I was little. But maybe Elsy has a version that would serve you.”
It takes a few heartbeats for me to grasp her meaning before my lips reluctantly tip up at the corners. “Is that so?”
“Yes, I think it may remedy all the scowling you do.” Her contemplative tone only serves to tug my lips into an actual smile as she gathers her dress and carefully gets her leg over the saddle to sit astride.
Allowing her to continue to openly poke fun at me is probably a mistake. I should put her in her place. I should drain the piss and vinegar right out of her. I should. But I don’t and it’s for purely selfish reasons. The way she comes to life when she teases me is addictive.
I mount Nightshade and she follows me back the way we came, not complaining about our direction despite probably worrying that I’m taking her back to the stronghold. She’ll eventually learn I’m not a man who goes back on his word. I worry, though, that time will run out. Despite the proof of the Cyrun brothers’ betrayal, I know that either freeing Amarinata D’heilar or simply marrying her without some kind of retribution will breed serious discontent, discontent that I heard with my own ears only an hour ago in the stronghold’s courtyard.
While I am mostly certain of the Range’s loyalty to me, here in the Mountain Lion Realm, we can be a vengeful lot. Something tells me that if I want to keep my own life, I won’t only have to make an example of Cayson, but also of the princess.
The very thought is abhorrent. And my mind begins to twist and turn to find a way around such a roadblock.
I’m grateful when we break through the trees and I spot Eldon and his oldest son inside the open doors of their barn, brushing down his untacked horse, Fearmonger. I dismount and Rina asks hesitantly, “Why are we here?”
“We’re here for dinner,” I say, reaching to help her down. “You’re not too high-born to eat in a humble home, are you?”
She shoots me a quelling look and whispers, “Don’t be an ass, Deve.”
“Behave, little raven,” I warn, though I’m sure my smirk ruins the effect.
The door to the house opens and Daysa appears with little Trudy at her side. The child comes running. “Uncle!” I catch her up in my arms. “Have you come to visit?” she asks, beaming at me. Then she notices Rina. “Who’s that?”
“Her name is Rina.”
Trudy continues to smile as Rina gives her a little wave. “Is she your intended?”
“Intended?” I laugh. “And where did you learn that word?”
“Mama. Mama says you’ll be married by the new moon.”
Daysa titters, stepping forward to take her daughter. “Children say such silly things, my deve.”
“Only children?”
Trudy squirms out of her mother’s arms to stand squarely in front of Rina, taking her hand in hers. Trudy studies their joined hands, probably noticing the differences in their skin tones before she finally says, “Would you like some goat’s milk? I milked Patty myself.”
There’s almost a collective exhale. I think we were all waiting for something outrageous to come out of her mouth. But in her childish wisdom, Trudy has proven us all fools. If only everyone were as accepting as this four-year-old girl.
Rina looks first to me for permission, appearing to be at a loss for words for once. I nod as Trudy starts to pull her toward the house. Daysa jumps to follow them. “Or there’s mulled wine, my lady,” she calls.
Chapter 13
Rina
The little girl chatters excitedly as she tows me inside the house. Letting go of my hand, she runs past a large open spit in the middle of the room, where a pig is roasting, to pull out a chair from a dining table. “You can sit here, Rina,” she announces.
“Trudy!” her mother practically yelps. “You will address the lady asa’Deve.”
“Oh, no, certainly not,” I say quickly. “My name is Rina.”
