by Ellyn, Court
~~~~
20
Thorn, his brother, and his two apprentices rehearsed their lies on the morning of their departure. The four of them clustered on the steps of the keep in the manner of conspirators. A fine mist fell in the courtyard, beading on their shoulders and in the manes of their horses. Jaedren fussed over every buckle and stirrup, and footmen argued over how best to tie Kelyn’s small trunk and Carah’s large one onto the baggage horse. The poor animal whickered and endured the bickering valiantly. Thorn and Rhian needed only the clothes on their backs and the swords on their belts. The crystal-headed staff was affixed to Thorn’s saddle, and Nelda had sent up wine- and water skins from the kitchens, along with enough food for a week-long journey. Their saddlebags bulged.
“When you’re asked about your mum?” Thorn asked his niece.
With confidence Carah replied, “She’s been under the weather for the past week, and we refused to let her travel in the rain. We left her no choice but to let Kethlyn represent Evaronna’s affairs.”
“Where is your mum, anyway?” Kelyn asked. He had little tolerance for this underhanded business. The idea of deceiving King Valryk sat ill with him, that was plain enough. “She said she’d come down to see us off.”
“Last night she told me she was getting worried,” Carah said.
“What’s to worry about? We have two avedrin watching our backs.” He grinned in a bittersweet sort of way. “Well, three.”
Carah giggled at that. Thorn tried not to resent her for being joyful. She was entitled to bask in her success for a while. If only he had returned home four years ago to train her as he’d promised. His niece would be better prepared for whatever awaited them. Better that he had not trained her at all. She’d be staying behind, blind but safe. How many more bad judgments had he made? Time would tell.
“She’s not worried about us, Da. Kethlyn. She’s right, too. He should’ve stopped by days ago. Last night at the latest. He’s either going to be late to the convention or he took a different road.”
“Unless he went through Leania, there is no other road.”
“Precisely.”
Thorn reclaimed their attention with an “Ahem” and pressed on with the other questions. This time he effected a disgusted sigh as one might hear from any number of ladies Carah knew. “You look scandalous, Lady Carah. Where is your handmaid?”
Carah couldn’t help but laugh at his imitation. “Haven’t you learned to dress yourself, Lady Maeret? I told her to stay behind to look after my mother. Besides, Esmi is getting too old to travel. This weather wreaks havoc on her bones. Do you have any suggestions for a replacement?”
“And you, War Commander, who is your dashing new squire?”
Rhian wore the Ilswythe livery, a bright cerulean tabard blazoned with the sword-wielding falcon. Lies to explain this stranger’s presence were the most elaborate of all. If Carah enjoyed enacting her replies, her father played along begrudgingly. “An Islander whose family is allied with the duchess through trade agreements,” he said flatly. “He was late to start his training, so Rhoslyn brought him my way this winter. To see if I can make a knight out of him.”
Thorn thumped Rhian in the chest. “And you. Who are you?”
“Son of some lord in some city. Why do I have to lie? No one knows me anyway.”
“Daft,” Thorn said. “War Commanders don’t take peasants for squires, or hadn’t you noticed? Your story has to match up with his. Go.”
Rhian growled. “I’m the grandson of Lord Rystia, who is loathsome by the way, and … and … and my father is a pearl merchant with a fleet of boats and hordes of fishers. Or something.”
“Practice till you can say it without stuttering, will you? It has to sound natural and believable. Because someone will ask. Highborns are no less nosey than a fishwife, believe me. And if they can root out a scandal, all the better.” Bitter with his apprentice, Thorn added, “Take an acting lesson from my niece sometime. She owes you anyway.”
Color flooded Carah’s face. “Oh, please. I don’t owe the pearl fisher anything. He was just doing your job for you.”
“My—?” Thorn grit his teeth. “Child, if your father weren’t standing here—”
“Break it up.” Kelyn’s arm wrapped protectively around his daughter’s shoulders. “Leave the grudge behind, both of you, or I go to Bramoran alone.”
“Very well,” Carah conceded. “I’ll be the bigger man here. For your sake, Da. Let’s see, who have we forgotten? Why, you, Uncle Thorn. Have you rehearsed your lies?”
“Lies? I need tell no lies. I’m not even here.” A thickening curtain shimmered around him, hiding him slowly from sight.
“That is so disconcerting,” Kelyn muttered.
All they heard in reply was Thorn’s chuckle.
“Right, I’m going to find Her Grace. She ought to have come down by now.” Kelyn tromped off up the steps and through the bronze doors.
Thorn let the Veil unravel. “Ah, I wish I’d known how to do that when we were kids. What torments I could have inflicted.”
Carah harrumphed. “If that’s how boys are, best not teach it to Jaedren yet.”
“My lord?” Lura, Rhoslyn’s handmaid, came down the steps and dipped in a curtsy before Thorn. “Her Grace wishes a word with you. She awaits you in the garden.”
His belly somersaulted. Why the garden? “Me? Er, um, His Lordship was just looking for her.” Sometimes he amazed himself with his eloquence.
“Was he? I’ll let Her Grace know.”
Thorn hurried along the corridor under the glowing stained-glass lamps, an unwelcome pinch of nerves in his stomach. Didn’t Rhoslyn know better than to invite him into the garden? Too many memories lurked in those fragrant, bowered lanes, and none he cared to think about. Every time he happened to glance out the library windows that overlooked the fountain and the great andyr tree, he thought of his mother dying under his hands. A team of gardeners pulled her weeds now and shaped her hedges to suit them. Alovi had liked them wild, if restrained. The head gardener kept them trimmed into tidy squares and cones like some damn geometry lesson.
His torment didn’t come from the fact that he had provided his mother an end to the pain but that he couldn’t save her. It wasn’t enough. Despite everything he could do, it wasn’t enough. The scars on his hands, left by the burns he’d inflicted on himself, had nearly faded away, but his fingers were damaged more on the inside. The healing had been slow and tedious. His knuckles often ached, and he could stand to hold a quill for only an hour or so at a time.
Beneath this lingered an older, sweeter pain. How many years had passed since he followed Rhoslyn from the Great Hall sweltering with dancers, wine, and song and into the cool, moonlit garden? He’d crept past the lily pond glimmering with pearly scales of circling fish, under the arbor dripping with lady’s lips vines, and found her sitting among the blood-red night blossoms. Garnets had glistened at her throat and in her hair. She’d kissed him with garnet lips. And under the branches of that same tree, she married his brother. What a fool he had been to ignore Kelyn’s warnings about her.
Mist instead of jewels gathered in the duchess’s hair on this gray morning. She paced beside the silent fountain, fingers steepled before her mouth. Coming to the night blossom bush, she paused. Her fingers caressed the buds, scrolled tight in the daylight, then plucked one. The disturbance shook rain from the leaves. She held the petals under her nose, brushed them against her cheek. Her eyes were distant and sorrowful.
Thorn emerged from under the arbor. “You have need of me, Your Grace?”
She gasped, pressed a hand to her chest, and let the flower fall discreetly. “Yes, but I … You startled me. I … I changed my mind.”
“About what?” he asked, joining her near the fountain.
With a burdened sigh, she said, “I meant to order you to leave my daughter here with me. But she’s worked so hard for this. Such a demand would be unfair.”
How like a girl s
he looked, cheeks flushed from the chill air, their color deepened by the dark wine of her cloak. But the tension around her eyes and upon her mouth was that of a worried mother. “In times like these, wisdom ought to outweigh fairness,” he told her. “For your sake, I’m sorry I promised her. I didn’t expect her to…” He ended with a helpless shrug.
“You’ll protect her, won’t you?”
“As if she were my own.” He was unable to look at her as he said it. “Always. You know that.”
“Yes, I know.” Her smile was full of tenderness and pity. “You may go, I suppose. I called you here for nothing.”
It wasn’t for nothing. Her instincts were sound, but Thorn preferred to keep that to himself, for her sake. He sank down onto the fountain wall and examined the groomed flowerbeds and raked gravel paths. The household honored Alovi by maintaining what she had loved most. “You know, this is the first time I’ve visited the garden since Mother’s death. Over a decade now, isn’t it? Yes, Carah had turned six. How silly of me.”
“Her death has haunted you all this while?”
“I’ve learned to accept it, like everything else.”
Rhoslyn retreated a step or two toward the keep. Thorn feared she might escape. He stood abruptly. “Are you happy, Rhoslyn?” How long had it been since he’d called her by name? “I mean, have you … been happy here?”
Her expression was a battle of emotion, half smile, half confusion. She considered a long time, and the smile faded. At last she said, “I have been undeservedly happy, Kieryn. My husband has never wronged me. My children are healthy, intelligent, and respectable, and they still dote on us, which is astonishing. And my people haven’t revolted against me, despite my absence half the year. I have more than I ever knew to hope for. Yes, I’m happy.”
“I didn’t make a mistake then … not being the one to come back to you?” How long had he needed to ask these questions? But he’d not considered them safe enough. Nor had he been brave enough.
“Oh, Kieryn, bless you.” Rhoslyn swept up his hand and kissed it. A tear splashed his knuckles. “No, you must never think that. You were not mistaken. And I was the one who wronged you, remember. You had every right to leave.”
“But I chose not to forgive. I could have chosen to forgive.”
She shook her head, adamant. “Once I realized the full weight of what I’d done, I knew I had no right to ask that of you, not when I had such a hard time forgiving myself. Your brother is right. Do not dwell on ‘could haves’ and ‘should haves’. They don’t do anyone any good.”
Years ago, she had been the one who sought council and comfort from him. Odd that today it was the other way around. This was a different Rhoslyn, that was plain. No longer the uncertain, terrified girl of eighteen, she had learned the hard way how to carve victory for herself and her family, and it had forged her into the strongest and most admirable soul Thorn knew.
He nodded, satisfied, and bowed over her hand, fulfilling a vow he’d made to her on a windy hillside so long ago. He had other vows to fulfill now, and a long road ahead. He left her beside the fountain and the night blossoms where he had fallen in love with her.
All over again.
~~~~
Kelyn waited until his brother’s footsteps faded along the corridor before heading into the garden. Rhoslyn approached up the path, frowning thoughtfully. She glanced up and smiled at him standing in the doorway. For one instant, Kelyn wished he could read her mind. The words between her and Thorn had been too soft to make out, but Kelyn had seen the heart-wrenching distress on Rhoslyn’s face, watched her clench Thorn’s hand and kiss it. In their garden. How often had they met here over the years?
“Ready to go, then?” she asked, stepping out of the damp.
“Yes, I was looking everywhere for you.” A sinking sick feeling nearly robbed him of his voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her fingers brushed his cheek and she hurried off along the corridor, handing her cloak to a footman as she went. “I was about to issue a ducal edict, but it didn’t work out that way.”
Kelyn followed her to her study, waiting for her to confess why she and Thorn had sequestered themselves in the garden, but she didn’t. She didn’t mention him at all but swept a stack of envelopes off her desk and flipped through them. “If you see Kethlyn, order him to stop by on his way home, will you?” She flung down the letters in disgust. “He’s not a duke yet, you can still tell him what to do.”
“I’ll tell him what to do, regardless. He’s my son.”
“Maybe he sent a bird and it went astray. You don’t think he got stuck in the mud somewhere?” She wrung her hands. “He’d better be at Bramoran, that’s all I can say, or the king will be most displeased.”
“To the Abyss with Valryk.”
Rhoslyn’s eyebrows jumped. “Still bitter, I see.”
“Do you still love him?”
The question not only caught Rhoslyn by surprise, but she blinked as if it made no sense. “Valryk or Kethlyn?”
“Thorn, damn it!”
“What?” Her hazel eyes sharpened like the tip of a whip, and Kelyn braced himself for the flogging. “How dare you? The War Commander doesn’t get his way, and suddenly he’s given to fits of jealousy. It’s no fault of mine that Valryk changed your plans, so don’t unleash your anger on me. Your brother is here to protect your daughter, not to pursue your wife.”
“Answer the question, Rhoz.”
Livid color flared up her throat. “Of course I don’t love him. After twenty years, Kelyn, you doubt me? I can’t believe this. And what about you? You’re going to Bramoran without me. Captain Lissah will be there. And I’ll admit I’ve often wondered who warms your bed in the winter. Do you know that woman can’t look me in the eye to this day? But it was beneath me to ask. Despite your past reputation, I chose to trust you.”
“Our reputation, you mean.”
Her smile was viperish. “I was caught in only one man’s bed. If I have any reputation of the kind, it’s in your mind alone, and it’s a sordid mind at that. And this after I sang your praises to your brother.”
“But I saw—”
“You saw nothing! Has this troubled you all these years? My, but the Ilswythe twins are unburdening themselves this morning. Such tortured souls, they are. Such martyrs.”
“Stop it, Rhoz.”
“You opened the box, my boy. Deal with what spills out.” They stood across the rug from one another, glaring. At last Rhoslyn let her arms fall to her sides and sighed. “You were right, you know. I adored him. But I knew I could use him, too, so I told myself I needed him. But that’s not the same as love.”
“And me?” Hell of a time to ask where he stood. In all their years together, Rhoslyn had never once said she loved him. Such words hadn’t been a requirement, nor did he expect them, but he’d hoped. Many times he thought they were about to leap from her mouth, but she tucked them away nicely again. Why hadn’t he asked about Thorn years ago? He had been afraid he would run her off, that’s why. Nothing forced her to live here with him, after all.
“You’re the one who came back. That’s all that mattered.”
“If it had been Thorn who showed up that day—”
“But it wasn’t. That’s the point. Even if it had been, I would not have renewed the proposal. He was a crutch, and by then I’d learned to walk without him. Oh, Kelyn don’t you see? In the past month while he’s been living here, I’ve realized that since the beginning, despite his own heartbreak, Kieryn has done everything for our benefit, our happiness. He stays away because, for him, it’s safer. He goes to war against evil we can’t see to keep our daughter safe, and he a scholar who prefers peace and quiet. And me, I … because of what I did to him, I’ve feared him all these years. It’s a relief to move past all fear of him.”
Kelyn nodded and started for the door to hide his hurt. Still no profession of love. Maybe later. Maybe when he hadn’t made her furious first. “Yes, that’s a relief, indeed. I hav
e to go. Carah will be hammering down the door any minute.”
Rhoslyn followed, as icy as ever. “And don’t worry about me. You’re taking half the problem with you. Thorn won’t be staying in my lascivious care. Go with a clear mind, Kelyn, and have a good time.”
He started back across the threshold with an apology on his lips, but Rhoslyn slammed the door in his face.
~~~~
When both her uncle and her father hurried off, Carah was left standing on the steps with Rhian. She shuffled her feet and racked her brain for something witty to say. She was usually armed with an interesting comment or question for awkward moments like this, but with Rhian her mind went curiously blank. He seemed completely unaware of her presence, however, just glowered like a thunderstorm at the two arguing footmen. Carah’s heavy trunk was slipping down the horse’s flank; the poor animal had lost its patience and pivoted around the man holding the lead to avoid the attentions of the second.
Carah was about to suggest they take a luggage cart instead when Rhian started down the steps. “We should’ve left an hour ago,” he barked. “Ai, Goddess, let me do it or we’ll never get there.” The two footmen shied from him, like lambs before the herder’s dog. “Look, you have to think like a horse. Would you want to walk lopsided all day? No? Then go away.” Carah chuckled behind her hand as Rhian untied the whole mess and started over. The footmen slinked past and received a sympathetic nod from their lady for their efforts.
“Do you really need all this?” Rhian asked, tying a fisherman’s knot around her oversized trunk.
She traipsed down the steps, dug in her golden pony’s saddlebag for an apple and fed it to the baggage horse. “You’ll be fine in just your livery, but a lady must dress for every occasion. A dress for morning, a dress for riding, a dress for dinner, a dress for evening. That means matching slippers, jewelry, petticoats, and all the other unmentionables. And she dare not wear anything twice. That would be scandalous. I didn’t make the rules. If it were up to me, I’d just wear my robe. It’s all that matters.” For the journey, she decided she’d rather not ruin her silver robe with rain and mud but settled for riding leathers and boots and a waxed woolen cloak to shed the rain.
