by Cayla Kluver
“Won’t there be patrols?”
He shook his head. “One of my duties is to regulate the patrols. I know exactly where they are. So—to the river?”
I nodded, and we lined our horses up as best we could, for our mounts had caught our excitement and were straining against their bits. We locked eyes and counted down together.
“Three, two, one—” I dug my heels into King’s sides and he sprang almost violently forward.
My father had never liked me racing. It was dangerous—the horse could fall, I could drop the reins or lose my seat, and at a full gallop, my chances of survival would be slim. But he had always loved to do it, and so had I. There was such freedom in letting a horse have its head, such joyful abandonment in the feel of the animal’s hooves striking the earth time after time, as fast and as hard as they could go. There was power and exhilaration in leaning forward, moving with the animal, feeling the wind on my cheeks, my hair whipping back. There was a oneness that could not be achieved in any other way, a single purpose represented by the finish line that loomed ahead.
King and I had the advantage at the start, and I turned my head to grin at Saadi before giving my full concentration to the task at hand. I would leave him far behind, but there was no point in testing fate. It wasn’t long before my confidence and my lead were challenged—I caught sight of the gelding’s front legs to my left, gaining ground as they arched and reached in beautiful rhythm. We bumped and battled, following the winding road, the horses breathing hard.
Then it was Saadi’s turn to grin. He gave me a nod, urging his horse up the slight incline that lay before us, gradually inching ahead until he succeeded in passing me completely as we flew down the other side. Knowing the race would be won or lost on the remaining flat ground from here to the river, I lay low against King’s neck, and the stallion pressed forward, sensing my urgency. Race for Papa, King, I thought. You can win for Papa.
The Recorah River spread before us, and both Saadi and I would have to slow soon to avoid surging into it. King’s burst of speed was enough to put us neck-and-neck once more, but my frustration flared, for I doubted we could push ahead. At best, the race would be a tie. And a tie wasn’t good enough, not when King needed to come home with me.
Then suddenly I was in front. I glanced over at Saadi in confusion, and saw him check his gelding, letting me win. King did not want to stop, but I pulled him down just before the river, swerving to let him canter, then trot, along its bank. Saadi came alongside me and we halted, dismounting at the same time. I leaned for a moment against my saddle, panting from my own exertion, then slid it off King’s back. Without a word, Saadi likewise stripped his mount, and we freed the horses to go to the water for a drink. Muscles aching, I flopped down on the grass and stared up through the branches of a tree to the graying sky above.
A shadow passed over me, then Saadi lay down beside me.
“You won,” he said.
“You let me.”
There was a silence—he hadn’t expected me to know. Then I heard the grass rustle as he shrugged. “You’re right. I did.”
Laughing at his candor, I sat up and looked at him. He was relaxing with his arms behind his head, his bronze hair damp and sticking to his forehead.
“Why did you let me win? You know that means I don’t have to spend any more time with you.”
He propped himself up on his elbows, perusing my face. “That doesn’t bother me.”
I frowned. Did he no longer desire my company?
“I never wanted to force you to spend time with me, Shaselle. I wanted you to want to spend time with me.”
“You’re a poet,” I joked, amused by his graceless word choice, and he grinned.
“Besides, a victory is a victory. You won and now have the best of everything—you get your father’s horse, and you can be rid of me if you want.”
With a mischievous glint in my eye, I put my hands on the ground on either side of his waist. “I would have won, anyway.”
He chuckled, once more lying down flat. “You’re shameless.”
I rolled back to my original position, and we both quieted, but there was an aspect of my victory that still bothered me.
“Tell me, why did it matter to you who won? I mean, even if you’d won, you still could have released me from the bargain. You could have said I didn’t have to spend those two days with you.”
“I could have,” he acknowledged. “But after…after you told me about your father, I wanted you to have his horse back. Rava should have had more respect for his memory. She shouldn’t have taken him—them—away.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I swallowed several times to loosen my throat. What a stupid reaction.
“Thank you,” I murmured, and I felt his hand close around mine, giving it a squeeze. I sighed contentedly, letting myself enjoy the moment. “What was your father like?”
“I don’t know,” he said offhandedly.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” As usual, my typical phrasing was somewhat coarse, driven by my curiosity, and I caught myself, adopting a more considerate tone. “Did he die when you were young?”
“No, he’s still alive.”
I turned my head to gape at him, greatly confused. “He left you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I sat up again, close to exasperation; he just looked at me, bemused, my hand still in his.
“Fathers don’t raise their children in Cokyri. They aren’t trusted with such an important responsibility. I never knew mine.”
This was not an answer I could have foreseen, and I shifted uneasily, trying to figure out how to proceed.
“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.
He was quiet at first, his eyes fixed on the darkened sky as he pondered our different experiences.
“I never felt sorry about it. My mother was a good woman—she and her maidens took care of me. But like I told you before, I had to work harder than you can imagine to achieve my military rank, and only because I’m a man. I can do everything Rava can do. I always could, but no one would see it, not even her. A struggle like that makes you question things.”
“So now you wish you’d known your father?”
Again, he reflected. “No. I wish I’d known yours.”
I looked away, once more fighting tears. I didn’t understand how he could affect me so deeply.
“I’m not sure my father would have been to your liking,” I finally said, meeting his eyes. “I found him brave for his willingness to fight, even when there was no more hope. You would probably have found him weak.”
He sat up and gazed earnestly at me. “There is a way to accomplish things, but it’s rarely to declare a war, private or otherwise.”
“Sometimes the war is not of your making,” I retorted. “You must fight, otherwise you’re a lamb. And lambs are slaughtered, Saadi.”
His brows drew together, and we stared at each other for much longer than we should have, and I knew I had rattled him. Then he shook his head.
“See those lights up there? They’re called stars.”
I laughed. “I can take a hint. We should go back.”
We caught and saddled our mounts, then took our time returning to the city, neither of us really wanting the day to end. But as we reached the front gates, my anxiety rose, bringing queasiness along with it. My mother wouldn’t know where I was, and I had definitely missed dinner. Presented with yet another set of broken promise
s, she wasn’t likely to be forgiving.
We rode under the raised entry gates without interference from the Cokyrian guards, continuing along the thoroughfare in comfortable silence. When we reached the street that branched off into the western section of the city, I expected Saadi to continue north, but he did not. We dismounted and walked side by side, leading our horses, until my house came into view.
“You should leave,” I said to him, hoping I didn’t sound rude.
“Let me help you take King to your stable.”
I hesitated, unsure of the idea, then motioned for him to follow me as I cut across the property to approach the barn from the rear. After putting King in his private stall at the back of the building, sectioned off from the mares, I lit a lantern and grabbed a bucket. While Saadi watched me from the open door of the building, I went to the well to fill it.
“You should really go now,” I murmured upon my return, not wanting anyone to see us or the light.
He nodded and hung the lantern on its hook, but he did not leave. Instead, he took the bucket from me, placing it in King’s stall, and I noticed he had tossed in some hay. Brushing off his hands, he approached me.
“Tell your family I returned the horse to your care, that our stable master found him too unruly and disruptive to serve us other than to sire an occasional foal.”
“Yes, I will,” I mumbled, grateful for the lie he had provided. I had been so focused on recovering the stallion that explaining his reappearance had not yet entered my mind. Then an image of Rava, standing outside the barn tapping the scroll against her palm, surfaced. What was to prevent her return?
“And your sister? What will you tell her?”
He smirked. “You seem to think Rava is in charge of everything. Well, she’s not in charge of our stables. And our stable master will be content as long as we can still use the stallion for breeding. As for Rava, keep the horse out of sight and she’ll likely never know he’s back in your hands.”
“But what if you’re wrong and she does find out?”
“Then I’ll tell her that I have been currying a friendship with you. That you have unwittingly become an informant. That the return of the stallion, while retaining Cokyrian breeding rights, furthered that goal.”
I gaped at him, for his words flowed so easily, I wondered if there was truth behind them.
“And is that what this is really all about?”
I studied his blue eyes, almost afraid of what they might reveal. But they were remarkably sincere when he addressed the question.
“In a way, I suppose, for I am learning much from you.” He smiled and reached out to push my hair back from my face. “But it is not the sort of information that would be of interest to Rava.”
His hand caressed my cheek, and he slowly leaned toward me until his lips met mine. I moved my mouth against his, following his lead, and a tingle went down my spine. With my knees threatening to buckle, I put my hands on his chest for balance, feeling his heart beating beneath my palms. Then he was gone.
I stood dumbfounded, not knowing what to do, then traced my still-moist lips, the taste of him lingering. This was the first time I’d been kissed, and the experience, I could not deny, had been a good one. I no longer cared that Saadi was Cokyrian, for my feelings on the matter were clear. I’d kiss him again if given the chance.
I extinguished the lantern and all but skipped to the house, bursting happily through the front door. My mood was short-lived, however, for my mother stalked into the entryway, no smile within miles of her face.
“You’ve finally decided to turn up, have you?” she castigated. I could smell food wafting on the air, confirmation that my family had already eaten.
“I’m sorry, Mother, I meant to be back—”
“Oh, you meant to. I shouldn’t have let you go out at all, Shaselle! How could I have been so foolish?”
She was unusually frazzled—I knew I hadn’t been completely reliable of late, but her reaction was excessive. Then Steldor stepped out of the parlor, followed by Dahnath and my other curious, but hesitant, siblings, for they didn’t know if they would be in trouble for listening. They had nothing to worry about. I was holding all of my mother’s attention.
“Lania, this won’t do any good now,” Steldor said, walking over to lay a hand on my mother’s arm. She shook him off.
“Don’t you tell me what will and won’t do any good, young man. She’s my daughter and I will handle this how I see fit.”
Raising his hands in surrender, Steldor stepped back, muttering something about grabbing his cloak. He briefly disappeared to return with the garment in question draped across his arm, then gave a small bow to my mother, whose glare remained steadfast. With a shake of his head, he stepped around me and through the door.
“Mother, I’m sorry, but I’m only a little late for dinner. I haven’t done anything horribly wrong.”
“Oh, really? Then what’s your excuse? What was more important to you than being here for Lord Grayden’s visit?”
I paled as recollection hit. This was what had generated the nagging feeling in the back of my brain. And this was the reason Steldor had still been at our house, for he would have stayed to dine with us.
“And just what are you wearing?” She scanned me and her pitch rose even higher. “Have you been riding?”
“No, I mean…yes, but I—”
“Am I to understand that engaging in an activity I have specifically forbidden was more important to you than eating dinner with your family and our guests?”
“No, that’s not right, that’s not what happened.” I wanted to tell her about King, in the feeble hope it would partially excuse my behavior, but she wasn’t in a frame of mind to listen.
“But you did nothing wrong. You only disobeyed my rules, brashly relied on us to entertain your suitor, cast us into the unforgivable position of lying to him about where you were and what you were doing, and risked our family’s honor had we been unable to placate him as to the reason you decided not to show up!”
“Please, I beg of you to hear me out! I forgot he was going to be here. Something unexpected came up—something important, and…”
Mother’s expression was so dangerous that I trembled, wanting to disappear.
“I told you this morning that he was coming, Shaselle. Either you weren’t listening to me, or you deliberately ignored the importance of this evening. Which was it?”
I sniffed, looking to Dahnath for help, but her face held no sympathy. Since Mother wasn’t going to give me the chance to explain, I picked what I believed to be the more forgivable of the two options.
“I—I wasn’t listening.”
“If you were younger, I’d take a strap to you, girl, but as it is, you had better tell Lord Grayden you’re sorry. He was generous to come back after the way you behaved during his first visit. I doubt he’ll come thrice, but perhaps you can stop him from telling the entire kingdom what kind of lady you are.”
Though I felt guilty, trapped and pitiful, I also felt a pang of indignation. “And what kind of lady am I, Mother?”
She shook her head. “Not much of one, Shaselle. Not much of one.”
Mother turned around and pointed up the stairs, directing my other siblings, who were only too eager to comply, to go to their rooms. I didn’t know if I should go, too, but when she snapped my name, I hurried after them.
I forcefully closed and locked my bedroom door, then leaned against it, fighting tears. My
bed awaited, more inviting than the arms of any member of my family, and I curled on top of it, too miserable to change into my nightgown. There were days when no decision I made was a good one, and this day came close to topping them all.
But what if I hadn’t forgotten that Grayden was invited to dinner? If I had been asked to choose between sharing a meal with him and racing against Saadi, what would I have done? The question was a lot easier to answer than it should have been, and though my response confirmed my wicked nature, it also made me feel better. Knowing that I would have intentionally slighted Grayden made accidentally slighting him more tolerable. While I certainly owed the young man an apology, perhaps I had also done him a favor.
I rolled off the bed and went to the washbasin, finally calm enough to go to bed. I didn’t expect to sleep much, however. Not because I was in trouble with Mother, but because I wanted to relive the race over and over again. And Saadi’s kiss over and over and over and…
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:
WISE DECISIONS
ALERA
I woke with a fresh idea on the first morning of October and sent word to Cannan that he should meet me in the Royal Ballroom. The King and Queen had long ago been provided with an entrance into the ballroom through the Dignitary’s Room that was just down the corridor from their traditional quarters, so I arrived in advance of the captain. I crossed the floor of the massive hall and stepped out onto the balcony, which extended over the East Courtyard, to wait for him.
Unlike in May, when I had tried to calm the Hytanican people in the wake of the posting of the High Priestess’s rules, all was peaceful today, and I surveyed the grounds, for this was the only one of the original palace courtyards to have survived the Cokyrian takeover with little damage. Its paved central area remained intact, with multicolored stones forming concentric circles around a large two-tiered fountain, and I idly considered the social events my mother used to host in order to continue the etiquette training of the kingdom’s young noblewomen. I sighed, thinking of how my life and the lives of all those in my circle had been affected by the war. Both Reveina and Kalem, long-standing acquaintances of mine, had been widowed when the Overlord had murdered our military officers. In Reveina’s case, the loss of her husband was a partial blessing, for the Master at Arms had treated her poorly; but Kalem had been smitten with Tadark, and her sweet dreams of their life together and their future children had been destroyed. And there were so many fatherless daughters, their brothers and uncles now charged with the responsibility of finding them husbands. Such was the case with Galen, whose twin sisters, Niani and Nadeja, were of marriageable age. And Baelic, Steldor’s uncle, had left behind five daughters, only the eldest of whom was betrothed.
