But being away from him had given her time to think. In truth, all she’d done was think about Blayth and what she was coming to feel for him. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together before Morys returned and ruined everything, but she felt as if they’d gotten to know one another fairly well in that time. He’d spoken of his past, or what he could tell her, and of the memories Morys had given him.
But in hearing of Morys’ part in Blayth’s life, Asmara was even more suspicious of her uncle than she had been before. When Blayth told her that Morys had “given” him his memories, that had set off a warning bell in her mind. Then, when the Saesneg knight had called Blayth by another name, that had only confirmed what Asmara was already suspecting.
Then, Morys’ very strange behavior the night he returned from Carmarthen was questionable at best. It was a litany of clues, all adding up to something, telling Asmara that Morys knew far more about Blayth than what he’d told the man.
It also told her that Blayth wasn’t who Morys said he was.
But she would not speak of her suspicions, not to anyone, and especially not to Blayth. He didn’t remember anything, but he seemed comfortable in the memories Morys had given him. More than that, those involved in the rebellion were looking to Blayth as if he were their new savior and she would never take that hope away from her people.
It was an odd position she found herself in.
So, she spent time with her horse, stewing over Morys and his lies and wondering if, in the long run, they would end up hurting Blayth. If that happened, then Asmara was prepared to defend the man from any backlash to Morys’ lies. She would not let him be hurt, and least of all by Morys. If her greedy, self-serving uncle was on a path to destruction, then she would not let him take Blayth down with him.
That was what her father had said to Morys once, back when they were still speaking to one another. Morys had grand dreams of purging the English from Wales, as did Cader, but Morys was far more reckless about it. Cader preferred to be sly and calculated in his movements against the English, while Morys preferred to be loud and rash. Morys had always called Cader weak because he didn’t approve of Morys’ bold manner, but Morys had called Cader weak one too many times and Cader swore at him and told him he would not be pulled down by his brother’s path to destruction. That had been the beginning of the estrangement between them.
Asmara hadn’t spent much time around Morys before the separation. But in the moments she had spent with him as of late, she developed a healthy hatred for the man. She didn’t like anything about him and his manipulative ways, and she didn’t like the way he controlled Blayth.
Blayth was a good, loyal warrior and Morys took advantage of that.
Then came the silly daydreams of what it would be like if Blayth was free of Morys, and if that gentle chivalry he’d shown her meant something more than simply manners. What if it was something he wanted to show her? What if he didn’t look at her as another warrior, but as a woman fully grown? Her father was always asking about future grandchildren and her answer was always the same – Someday, Dadau, but not today.
What if that someday had finally come?
A noise shook her from those foolish dreams and she turned to see Aeddan and his brother, Pryce, entering the stable. Asmara had seen them since their return from Carmarthen with Morys, but she hadn’t really spoken to them. They had duties that kept them very busy. When the brothers entered, Aeddan’s dark eyes fixed on her and he smiled politely.
“My lady,” he said. “You are up early.”
Asmara turned back to her horse. “I thought my horse was coming up lame yesterday,” she said. “I came to check him.”
Aeddan had a cloak and a few other items in his hands. He set them down and came over to Asmara as she bent over her animal.
“How is he?” he asked.
Asmara held up the hoof, showing him the beginnings of the abscess. “Poison has somehow gotten into his hoof,” she said. “I must make a solution of salt water to help drain it.”
Aeddan was peering at the wound. “Indeed,” he said. “You should soak it several times a day with the salt. It should heal. It does not look too terribly bad.”
Asmara had a tool to clean out the hoof and she picked at the area carefully. “I hope not,” she said. “He has a propensity for hoof wounds.”
Aeddan’s gaze lingered on the hoof for a few moments before he looked up at the animal in general. He gave the beast an appreciative slap on the withers.
“He is a fine horse,” he said. “How old is he?”
“He has seen three years this summer. I raised him from birth.”
Aeddan passed a practiced eye over the long legs of the horse. “I would wager that he can run like the wind.”
“And he does not like to be captured, either. When I put him out to pasture, sometimes it takes me an hour to catch him. He thinks it’s a game to run from me.”
Aeddan smiled, petting the horse on his dark face. “I have a horse that looks a good deal like him,” he said. “Morys gave him to me. He once belonged to a Saesneg soldier.”
The mere mention of Morys brought down Asmara’s mood. Blayth had even mentioned that Aeddan and Pryce had been with him from the beginning of his memories so, with that in mind, Asmara’s curiosity took hold. There was something in her that wanted to know about Blayth and Morys from Aeddan’s perspective. He knew the situation as well as anyone.
“You have been with my uncle a long time, then?” she asked, sounding rather innocent in her attempts to probe him.
Aeddan wasn’t on his guard. He answered immediately. “Aye,” he said. “Since I was young. My father served him, too, so it was natural that we also serve him.”
“Is your father still alive?”
Aeddan shook his head, patting the horse’s head. “My father died several years ago,” he said. “It was Morys who practically raised my brother and me.”
“Then you are close to him?”
“Nay.”
The answer came from Pryce, who was standing back in the shadows. He had been listening to the conversation and could no longer remain silent. When Asmara and Aeddan turned to him, he seemed rather uncomfortable with the attention, but it didn’t stop him from speaking up.
“He is not like a father to us,” he said, stepping forward into the light. “He is our overlord and that is all. Morys does not treat anyone like family and God was wise when he did not allow the man to become a father. He would have been a terrible one.”
Aeddan was giving his brother a warning look, but Asmara pressed him. “Yet you still serve him,” she said. “Why do you serve him if you do not like him?”
Pryce simply shook his head. “We owe him a great deal,” he said. “When our father died, he fed us. He did not turn us out. But he expects something for that kindness.”
“Morys is a strict taskmaster,” Aeddan said, cutting of Pryce because the man was starting to complain. “Pryce does not appreciate a man who has a strong sense of control. But we appreciate that he has provided for us and continues to do so. He is a prince of Deheubarth, after all. It is a privilege to serve him.”
Asmara hadn’t had much contact with the ap Ninian brothers during the raid on Llandarog, or even afterwards, so this was the first real conversation she’d had with them. She could see that Pryce seemed to be somewhat discontented when it came to Morys and Aeddan tried to be tactful. It was a rather interesting take on Morys, but not a surprising one. She dropped the horse’s hoof and tossed the hoof pick aside.
“My father is also a prince, but he treats his people well,” she said. “He and Morys have never gotten on.”
“We know,” Aeddan said. “Morys is hard on people who do not think as he does.”
Asmara lifted her eyebrows. “I could see that the night he returned from Carmarthen when Blayth did not agree with what he was saying,” she said. “Does he always keep Blayth so close to him?”
Aeddan nodded firmly. “He does,” he sai
d. “It has always been that way.”
“But why?”
Aeddan shrugged. “I suppose because of who he is. Morys protects him.”
“Protects him? Or hides him?” Asmara asked. Then, she noticed the change of expression on Pryce’s face; he wasn’t very good at hiding what seemed to be disbelief. “You have been with Blayth since Morys brought him back from Llandeilo, haven’t you?”
Aeddan looked at her. “Did Blayth tell you that?”
“He said that he recovered because of you.”
Aeddan’s focus seemed to hang on her for a few moments and Asmara was afraid he was becoming wise to the fact that she was trying to pry information out of him. The man gave the horse one last pet before dropping his hand.
“He is like a brother to me,” he finally said. “I would trust Blayth with my life many times over. I would trust Morys with my life, too.”
Asmara could sense that he was becoming either defensive or suspicious, so she stopped questioning him. Hopefully, there would be another chance but, for now, he was shutting her down.
“It is good to have friends and allies like that,” she said, taking the conversation in another direction. “You are very fortunate. I have my father and my sister, whom I trust, although Fairynne can be rather silly at times.”
The corner of Aeddan’s mouth twitched. “As my brother can be rather silly, also, I understand.”
Pryce made a hissing sound, a somewhat threatening sound, and Asmara knew the conversation was over for the most part. But it had been good while it lasted. She turned around, hunting for a bucket.
“I suppose I should find some salt now to soak the hoof,” she said. “You would not happen to know where I can find some, do you?”
“Find what?”
A fourth voice entered the stable and Asmara turned to see Blayth entering just as the sun came over the horizon. The light behind him was bright and beaming, as if the man had a halo. She felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.
“Salt,” she said. “My horse has a wound on his hoof that needs to be soaked.”
She was pointing to her horse, but Blayth was only looking at her. He had arisen early that morning with the specific purpose of finding Asmara before Morys also rose. The man liked to sleep past dawn but Blayth was counting on the fact that Asmara, an industrious woman, didn’t. He’d hunted in the hall for her, and all around the keep, before wandering down into the outer bailey only to be told by a soldier that he’d seen the woman heading for the stables.
Now that he’d found her, he intended to soak up every single moment he could with her, but he couldn’t do it with Aeddan and Pryce hanging around. In fact, he felt the unfamiliar stab of jealousy to realize the brothers had been alone with her.
“Aeddan,” he said. “Go and find salt for the lady. She should not have to hunt for it herself.”
Aeddan pointed to his brother. “Pryce can do it,” he said. “I am expected out on patrol.”
“Then get about your duties, both of you.”
As Pryce left the stable and Aeddan headed into one of the stalls to bring forth his horse, Blayth took a few more steps in Asmara’s direction.
Now, it was just the two of them, without an audience. Blayth could feel the excitement of her proximity, making his fingers tingle. Simply looking at the woman was beginning to feed his soul in ways he could hardly comprehend.
In her presence, all seemed right with the world again.
“I am sorry to hear about your horse,” he said. “Is there anything more I can do?”
Asmara’s heart was pounding against her ribs. She’d never in her life been so glad to see anyone and she had no idea how to elegantly handle the situation. When it came to social graces, she had none.
“Nay,” she said, thinking her voice sounded rather giddy on a serious matter regarding her horse. “Soaking the hoof should ease the situation.”
If he noticed the tremble to her voice, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Aye, it should. I hope it works.”
“So do I.”
An awkward silence followed as Aeddan moved past them, leading his horse out into the stable yard. When he was gone, Blayth turned to Asmara with a glimmer in his eye.
“I thought he would never leave,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because the man is not wanted.”
She cocked her head. “I do not understand.”
He started to chuckle. “I am not doing a very good job of this.”
“Of what?”
He scratched the scarred side of his head. “Of speaking with you. I wish to speak to you.”
“About what?”
He lifted his big shoulders. “Things,” he said. “Morys has kept me by his side for two days until I am sick of the sight of him. I had hoped you were still at Gwendraith. I was afraid his rudeness might have chased you back to Llandarog.”
Asmara shook her head. “He cannot chase me away. Did he tell you that he wanted to?”
“Nay,” Blayth said. “But he seems to see his brother when he looks at you. The same animosity is there.”
“You noticed, did you?”
Her tone was jesting, but the statement was a true one. He grinned.
“Unfortunately, I did,” he said. Then, he sobered, but his gaze upon her was most intense. “I… I was wondering if you might accompany me to Carmarthen, demoiselle. I am displeased with the smithy here at Gwendraith and I know that there is a superior smithy in Carmarthen that I should like to have repair the blade of my sword. It has been damaged and the smithy here has only made it worse.”
It was a surprising offer, one that Asmara had not been prepared for. But the thought of accompanying him into town did not displease her at all. In fact, she was most eager to go with him except for one rather major concern.
“I would be honored to go with you,” she said. “But if Morys is going also, then I shall decline.”
Blayth shook his head. “He is not going with me,” he said. “In fact, he does not even know that I plan to go. I swear, I cannot take another day of the man. I must have some time away from him and I should like you to go with me when I do.”
Realizing it would just be the two of them, Asmara was thrilled at the thought. “I will go,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. But then she remembered her horse and her manner cooled. “But my horse must be tended. I cannot simply leave him.”
“I will have the grooms soak his hoof. And you can ride with me.”
The self-reliant Dragon Princess had never once ridden with a man. In fact, she’d scorned those who had tried, men who wanted to make her anything other than what she was – fiercely independent and strong. She would look at women as they fawned over men and think poorly of them, and that meant she would ride her own horse.
No man would tell her otherwise.
At least, that was how she used to think, but since the introduction of the damaged warrior with the deliberate, and sometimes slow, speech pattern, that independent woman was coming to think that a little dependency – and a little chivalry – wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. He commanded that she should ride with him, and she would not argue. She wanted to do it.
For the first time in her life, she was starting to feel like a woman.
But there was some confusion as well as chagrin with that thought. Asmara had to admit that she was glad Fairynne wasn’t around to see such a thing. She’d often chastised her sister for her foolish, romantic notions, but now Asmara was starting to see what the fuss was about.
The right man changed everything.
“I always ride my own horse,” she finally said, though there was a twinkle in her eye. “I have never ridden with a man on his horse.”
“Why not?” Blayth asked. “Is it against your religion?”
Asmara burst out laughing. “Nay,” she said. “I suppose there is no one I would consider riding behind.”
“Will you ride with me?”
“I will
make an exception with you.”
It was, perhaps, the first flirtatious thing she’d ever said to him, and Blayth took it as an open invitation. It did his heart such good to realize that the long-legged beauty was willing to put aside her own standards to agree to ride with him. As simple as it sounded, it was an important milestone.
She wanted to ride with him.
But the excitement in his chest began to wane when he thought back to their conversation on the day she’d arrived, and how he’d been unused to the compassion and understanding he’d shown her. Blayth was a man with demons, and perhaps one of his greatest demons was his own insecurities.
When it came to a woman, it was a demon that was almost stronger than he was. He started to think that perhaps her agreeing to ride with him was just another act of pity. She’d shown him so much understanding and grace. He’d asked her to ride with him and, perhaps, this was just more of her grace.
It wasn’t as if he’d given her a choice.
Now, he was starting to feel foolish.
“If you do not want to, you do not have to,” he said. “If you are more comfortable riding a horse of your own, then I am sure you can borrow one. I will find it for you myself.”
He started to step away but Asmara reached out to stop him. “Wait,” she said, grasping his arm. “I told you I would ride with you. Did you ask me hoping that I would refuse?”
“Nay…”
She cut him off. “Then you do not want me to ride with you?”
“It is not that at all, but…”
She cut him off a second time. “That what? You are very close to insulting me for the fourth time. You ask me to ride with you, but now you have changed your mind?”
She could bring words to her lips faster than he could even though his mind worked far more swiftly than hers. His head injury prevented him from finding the correct words sometimes, or speaking with any speed, and this was one of those cases. He could see that she was growing increasingly upset, so he put his hands up and grasped her firmly by the arms to stop her momentum.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 258
