by S. K. Alden
They munched on the dried rations and listened to the storm howling.
"You realize we'll never hear the end of this," Kirin commented, slowly chewing a handful of dried fruit. "Lad and lassie, sheltering overnight in the snow. Funny excuse for missing all the parties inside." He said it to try and lighten their mood.
Nÿr didn't answer or meet his gaze. They both knew what else generally went on during Eve of Eve parties.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke," he said. "You must have a husband who's worried?"
"No, my lord."
"Kirin," he said. "Since it's just the two of us, I really don't think the title is necessary. It's just for show, you know. People like to use it, so I let them. But really, I'm just a kid from Grauvale. I was born there, you know. Not here."
"In Dun-Uillen?" she said, naming the main settlement a little wistfully. "I just spent five years there. It's a beautiful place."
"It's where I grew up," Kirin said. And while the fire burned brightly, the two of them compared notes about the great valley deep in the granite range, enjoying easy conversation until Nÿr yawned.
"It's been a pretty long day," Kirin observed. "We should try to sleep." He looked toward the outside where the storm raged on. Snow swirled into the open, front foyer, mixed with ice. "I vote we forego setting watches. I've no idea who'd be out in weather like this."
She agreed, and putting their backs to each other for support, they let themselves drift off to sleep, blankets up to their chins.
Sometime later Kirin woke, aware of a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and a dull, steady ache in his hip. He repositioned his leg. Next to him, Nÿr shivered.
"Hey," he nudged her. "You're too cold if you're shivering." His voice was deep and quiet.
She rubbed her face as he leaned forward and stirred the little fire. It flared to life, but without more fuel, he knew it would not burn much hotter.
"Come on," he said, opening his arms to her as she shifted position to sit between his knees. He wrapped himself around her, tucking her back against his chest so she could sit enveloped in his warmth.
She said nothing, but after a few minutes stopped shivering.
"Better?"
"Thank you," she said in a small voice.
Kirin felt almost too hot, now.
"You don't have to do this," she said.
"Keep you warm?"
"You don't understand. I'm not really someone a prince should be associating with."
"Why not?"
“There was trouble, once. When I lived in River Bend.”
Kirin frowned. "So? You can find that anywhere..." He started to laugh softly, then realized she was serious. "I'm sorry," he said, guessing her problem. "Trouble how? Tell me," he urged gently.
"I...can't. I'm sorry."
"So am I." He said nothing more for a moment. How was he going to forge a friendship with her if she refused to share? In the firelight he could see the back of her head and the weave of her long single braid, raven black and sleek. The tied-off tail-end lay near his hand and impulsively he threaded it gently between two fingers...silky and soft.
Then he decided to gamble. "How about this. I'll tell you about the biggest trouble I’ve had, and then if you think you can top it, you can tell me yours."
She looked over her shoulder at him, dubious. He charged ahead.
"Once, after Gill and I came to Snowmount— after the dragon slaying—we were captured by druid warriors in the Fernwoods."
"I've heard the story." She nodded.
"Yeah, well here's the part I'm guessing you haven't heard. I fell ridiculously in love."
"Love?"
"With a druid lass."
Her eyebrows shot up. Druids were allowed to live on the Green Isle...but they were not seven families people. They were newcomers...or old timers returned, depending on which tale one believed.
He smiled. "Messenger. Named Lalo. Ran distances like no one I'd ever seen before..." He shook his head, recalling her stamina. "Saved me from a pack of goliah beetles and that was it. I was smitten." He smiled at himself.
"Did your grandfather know?" She barely whispered.
Kirin shrugged. "Don't care. My brother knew, though. Tried to knock some sense into me, then just gave up, I think. He came around to tolerating the situation.”
"Admiring one of the druids is not a crime."
"It...may have gone a little farther than that," he admitted.
She didn't flinch. Didn't look shocked. "What happened?"
"We kissed..." He said it honestly, with frankness. "Well, more like she kissed me. I went with it. It just felt right at the time." He tried to hide a little embarrassment, then sobered. "And the next day...the nàmhid overtook the druid outpost. Lalo...didn’t survive."
He heard her make a sad little oh. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Years ago," he said, trying not to sound so morose. After a moment he looked up and forced a smile. "Your turn." He prompted, hoping she would choose to share.
She nodded, considered, then sat back a bit. "An older man."
"A...man?" He tried to sound non-judgmental, as if he was hearing this for the first time.
"A River Bend man. I grew up there with my foster mother..." She was quiet a moment, then went on. "And I met him. I enjoyed being his friend; I was fascinated with him in a way. He took me riding on those big work horses..." She blinked, obviously she'd been in awe. Then she sobered. "But while I thought we were just friends, he thought more—or so he said." She frowned as if recalling something she didn't understand. "He wanted me to go away with him." She looked at Kirin. "I wasn't of age...I tried to tell him..."
"How old were you?" Kirin asked softly.
"Just fourteen," she admitted.
Not much older than Gill's elder lad, Kirin realized. Old enough to enter into an apprenticeship, but not old enough to be on her own. If she was a fosterling, she likely had no real kin to protect her, either.
"He cornered me one night at my foster-mother's pub. He insisted that we go...I refused him. He wasn't very nice after that...threatened rude things. I barely got away from him."
Kirin just listened.
"But what came after was worse. He got back at me by spreading rumors...said I'd done things with him that I hadn't..." There. A small frown.
"No..." Kirin moaned in sympathy, his hand touched hers.
"I was young. I thought it was my fault. But..." she shook her head. "People believed the rumors. They said things. Even my friends slammed doors in my face." She huffed. "Not that I had so many." She covered her face with her hands, then dropped them and sighed. "Add to that –I wasn’t born a Rylander. I was just a foundling... The disapproval was too much. I left my foster mother."
Kirin was silent. While her experience was certainly worse than his, in his heart he knew that would have been the way of things for him as well if Lalo had lived and things had run its course. No one would have approved. Backs would have been turned. Things would have been said. His grandfather...Aubin would have...
He couldn't even think it. In the end, the chaos of the massive battle and his grandfather’s tragic death had overshadowed everything...and afterwards Gill had firmly declared the subject off-limits.
The druids, of course, had held a grudge for years.
"Where is he now?" Kirin asked Nÿr. "The River Bend man."
"Long dead. A skirmish in town not long after." She stared at the fire. “Some people blamed me for that, too—but I had already left home.”
"I'm sorry all that happened," Kirin murmured, and he meant it. He took her hand, realizing as he did it that his unsettled feelings about her had vanished. The two of them actually had something very real in common: affections given when they were young...choices made that could still bring pain.
She looked sad, and he brushed a lock of hair from her face and held her a little closer. "Just the other day my brother was reminding me to stop regretting the past and live in the here and now."
/>
"Can you?"
"I promised I'd try." That unexplainable urge to kiss her ear was back.
"Have you forgotten Lalo?"
"Yes and no. I'm older...I hope wiser. I have made my peace with it. You? Did you forget things?"
"I'm not even that same person anymore." She shook her head. "But...when ladies try to match me with their sons and cousins, I just want to hide. If they ever found out, if those rumors ever came back...they would surely disapprove."
"But that's good." Kirin smiled.
"Good?"
"For me. I don't disapprove. But then, I fell for a druid lass. Who am I to judge?"
She was silent.
"Does this bother you?" he asked.
She laughed softly. "No, it doesn't bother me. It shows you have an open heart." She squeezed his hand. She meant it.
"Do I?" He grinned. "If so, that was just about the only time it showed itself."
"Was there another?"
"Jo. Warrior, back in the long years. She was lost in battle..." He stopped, unable to say more. He hadn't thought they'd been serious...until she was gone and he was alone. "What about you?"
She shifted to look at him. "Egil. One of the other trainees. He was sort of lost in battle too, you might say."
Kirin's eyes went round.
She smiled shyly. "Not that kind. To another lass. She chose him, he agreed..." The little frown again, followed by a wistful glance. "They're off at Sea Cliff now. At least last I heard." She squeezed his hand. "It's been five years since."
Kirin smiled and looked at her hand, realizing that he no longer felt the cold or even the heaviness in his limbs.
"Do you know it's been a very long time since I had such easy conversation with a lass?" He smiled fondly at her.
Her eyes met his. She looked skeptical.
"Sitting with you...it's nice. I like it." But then he felt awkward again and it made him feel suddenly hollow, suddenly so aware that she deserved more. Why did no one else see that she was so adorable...so devoted, yet so alone? "Maybe we should both take Gill's advice," he murmured.
"How so?" Her voice was gentle.
"Stop regretting the past and live in the here and now..." They looked at each other as the winds gusted outside, and her skeptical look changed, as if she were considering. He wondered if she considered the kind of parties raging inside the mountain.
Then he gambled one more time and captured her mouth in a kiss. Just a simple, soft, very tender kiss...
She said nothing for the longest moment and he wondered what she was thinking—this independent lass who had such a strong sense of duty.
Please, he thought, suddenly afraid that he'd maybe pushed too fast. Don't turn away. He bit his lip, steeling himself for her next words. He looked at her hand held in his and slowly interlaced their fingers. He liked her hand there, found himself hoping...then felt doubt hollowing his gut. He looked back at her, his eyes wide.
Then her other hand came up to cup his jaw, and she leaned in to kiss him back. He reveled in the light softness of her touch and nearly melted with it.
Yes. And that was like opening a flood gate. Kisses led to hands on each other's faces and shoulders, which led to mouths on throats and shrugging out of coats...her hands unbuttoned his shirt, and her mouth on his collarbone made his brain stall.
They were awkward and clumsy (since they were new to each other) but it didn't stop them. He would have left off the moment she asked...but she wasn't asking.
She gasped at a gust of icy air that nearly dampened their little fire, and Kirin felt it too—the shock of freezing cold bringing him slightly to his senses. Protective, he pulled the blanket around them.
"Nÿr..." he murmured. He looked at her in the softly flickering firelight, but he could hardly think. It was like being stuck at the bottom of a deep mine and seeing the only person who could pull him to the light.
She didn't answer, but her eyes—her beautiful, perfect green eyes, softened and her hands traced their way up his shoulders and she shifted.
Yes. Her lips found his and they went further, slowly and shyly, until he was completely immersed in her scent, her warmth, her love...
It was the most intimate thing he'd ever felt, full of yearning and tenderness and intensity...
Clearly, it was not the first time for either of them, yet it was over all too soon. In the end, she gasped and clutched his arms while he caught his breath. In the afterglow, he kissed that spot just below her ear and tried to sort his surging desire to protect her forever...and she breathed his name...Kirin...and cupped his face. He realized he wanted...needed her approval...
"Could this not be good...?" he asked quietly, his voice husky and deep. It was the thing lads said to let a lady know he would welcome her Choice, should she wish to make it.
There was a long moment when their hands clasped tightly and they simply touched foreheads.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "It could..."
He eased himself to lay close beside her, skin to skin, his open hand next to hers—there if she wanted it.
She did. She wrapped her fingers around his and rested her cheek against his palm.
This is right, Kirin felt it in his soul. By the stars above, this is right.
Slowly they dozed off, wrapped closely and half-drunk with new-found accord, comfortable enough in each other's warmth.
Outside, the storm raged on, and inside Kirin, the fever sparked, no matter how much he thought he could hold it at bay.
In the cold, very early morning, he lost the battle and woke, crying out in agony, his hip and entire right leg cramped and burning, his head pounding.
Nÿr was instantly awake, her hands on his forehead, her eyes showing her alarm.
"Kirin," she breathed, trying to calm him. She scrambled to strip the blankets away and look at the burning, angry scarring on his hip. Her Cneasaí eye had to be telling her this was not a normal wound.
"What do you need...?" she asked, clearly perplexed and half-panicked. "What can I do?"
But he couldn't say. He couldn't even think through the red haze of pain.
Chapter Nine
"Say that to me again?" King Gilleath walked forward, his expression so intense that the guard captain stepped back. It was late, the revelries long over, and it was his unpleasant duty to knock on the door of the King's private chamber bearing unhappy news on tonight, of all nights...Midwinter’s Eve of Eve.
"The winds are gusting too strongly. They barely got the last lad up."
"And my brother is still out there?"
The captain swallowed. "We sent an emergency pack down. And he's not alone. One of the rescue team is with him as well. Surely they will make a snow cave and wait out the storm."
"Who's with him?"
"One of the cneasaí lassies."
"A lass?" The King said flatly, keeping his expression still and steely, but one eyebrow twitched.
"Nÿr, sir. Cneasaí apprentice. One of the best..." The guard stopped, unsure of his King's reaction. The King and his brother were famously close and fiercely protective of each other.
But the King snorted. "Marooned in a snow cave with a lassie," he said with a hint of a smile. "Could be highly dangerous in a number of interesting ways."
But the guard didn't laugh. "One more thing, sir. The last lad that they brought up..."
"How is he?" Gilleath asked.
"Badly broken leg. In the infirmary now. Says he has a message for you."
The King stared.
"For you alone."
"Now that," Gilleath grabbed his overcoat and slipped it on. "Sounds like something I want to hear," he said, heading for the door and cinching his leather belt tight.
—-
Gill was almost out the door when a small voice made him turn.
His youngest, Iri, was out of bed and standing ten feet away, eyes full of unshed tears. "Da!"
"Iri, honey, I have to go. Where's your nanny?"
&nbs
p; "No," she said, running toward him. He caught her up. "Da. My Keer is sick. He has a fever. I saw!"
Gilleath looked into his little daughter's eyes, seeing his own dismay reflected in her worried expression as her silent tears spilled over. Maeg was instantly there, arms out to take her errant child.
Their eyes met over the top of Iri's curls.
"Midwinter," Gilleath said, cursing himself for letting court politics and parties and intrigues drive from his mind the one very bad thing that generally happened this time of year. "He told me he was fine."
Maeg’s eyes went round and she gave a small shake of her head. "You better go," she whispered.
Gilleath turned and stalked out, angry at himself. "Infirmary," he said to the captain. The nervous man followed.
"I don't understand," the captain said, trotting to keep up with his King. "Should we have stopped your brother?"
"No," Gilleath sliced a hand through the air. "This is not the fault of the Guard. My brother has an old injury that acts up and he is well known for masking the problem." Gilleath walked on, fuming. "I'm irked at him, not the Guard." He left it at that.
But fact was, he was more irked at himself. He, of all people, knew just too well what kind of fever his brother was suffering from. A wound from a night dragon’s tail barb all those years ago, and it still had the power to lay Kirin out flat when the anniversary rolled around. Not every year...but most.
And Gilleath knew that if the fever had already started one night ahead of schedule, the relapse would be worse than usual.
"Job for you," Gilleath said to the captain, rattling off a short list of names. "I want them in the King's Chamber in ten minutes."
The man nodded.
"With all the guests, it’ll be a job to round them up," Gilleath said. “They could be anywhere...”
The captain took off at a run.
Gilleath kept going and didn't even stop at the infirmary's security door. He burst into the ward without waiting for permission, shocking the on-duty cneasaí, but he didn't apologize. Sometimes a King just needed to bypass all the niceties. Something was up in Snowmount and he wasn't about to wait for clerks to consult with supervisors and call for the master physician.
