I cast my eyes downward, to Tuatha. “Yes,” I breathed. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it.” Her gaze returned to her front. She stared straight between her stallion’s ears, her body tall in the saddle and relaxed. “I worry about you. You’re not supposed to be a slave. I am.”
“Little cat.” I smiled behind the curtain of my hair. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
Her fair lips curved in a smile. “You haven’t, you bad girl.”
“Consider yourself on notice.”
“How’s Tuatha?”
I fondled the pup’s ears as he glanced up, hearing his name spoken.
“Too smart for a wolf.”
In recent weeks I’d seen any number of wolves laugh. The silent, wolfish expression of amusement of parted jaws and lolling tongues. Yet, I’d never seen Tuatha show any humor.
His tiny muzzle parted, his needle teeth gleamed in the rapidly failing light. His miniscule tongue lolled in a silent wolfish laugh, his tail buzzing from side to side. Unable to resist its infectiousness, I chuckled, trying to dampen its sound. Arianne also giggled, her laugh unrestrained. She could openly bend over and kiss his small, fuzzy head, while I could only tug gently on his ear in a small, concealed move. Tuatha laughed up into my face, his blue eyes dancing with mine.
“We should be thinking of camping for the night,” I murmured, my hand stroking the pup’s face.
“I agree,” Kel’Ratan muttered from somewhere behind me.
A wagonload of chained and dispirited slaves trundled past, the guards riding to either side with coiled whips tied to belts eyed us with suspicion.
“Most travelers camp a short distance away from the highway,” Rygel said, covering his mouth with his hand as though yawning. “Once we find a well, we’ll camp near it.”
“Good. I want plenty of water for these horses,” I replied, my mouth at my shoulder. “Is there one close?”
Rygel hesitated before replying. “I think so. In the morning, the ride to the market should be short.”
“Excellent.” I glanced up through my hair toward the back of Arianne’s head. “I should go back to the back now.”
Arianne waved impatiently at me without looking over her shoulder. I reined Mikk in, waiting at a halt until my warriors all rode past me. Witraz turned his head, his blue eye glinting with dull anger. If he represented all of them, none of them liked the situation at all. Left and Right slowed their twin black stallions to allow me to ride in front of them, as before. As ever, they’d protect my back.
Later, in the darkness, I lay in my blanket, outside the tent where Arianne slept. I heard her soft, tired snores through the thin wall of the tent. As her bed slaves, Left and Right also lay nearby, huddled in their bedrolls, back to back. They didn’t snore, but slept silent and motionless. Suspecting they liked the arrangement, as it meant they got to stay near me, I half-wondered if they were even asleep at all.
I cuddled Tuatha close. Our combined warmth should keep us comfortable enough through the long dark hours till dawn. I found I missed Silverruff, Thunder, Digger and all the rest of the wolves more than I thought I would. Behind my closed lids, I imagined them sleeping in furry humps in the desert hills, or prowling the night restlessly, hunting.
If I opened my eyes, I knew I’d see the remainder of my boys either seated or sleeping beside the fire. Rygel remained awake, as did Kel’Ratan. The two conversed in low tones, while Corwyn sat across from them, staring moodily into the dancing flames. Alun sat cross-legged outside the firelight, facing outward, watching the desert. While I wished I could go to him, just to sit with him for a while, I dared not. I sighed. Even in the dark there may be eyes watching, suspecting.
Beyond them, the campfires of other travelers dotted the night like stars fallen to earth. Distantly, the sounds of their voices, their laughter, their music, their dogs barking, drifted to my ears. I scented wood smoke, roasting meats and the odor of unwashed bodies on the soft night breeze.
Dimly I recalled Raine’s attempts to cross this very Route, turned away time and again, unable to prevent his wolf scent from reaching the horses, the mules, the sheep, the goats, the cattle. Dogs, too, would challenge him, raising such a ruckus until he moved on. The memory of him atop the hill, staring at me over his massive shoulder, his eyes seeing me despite the distance brought back my heartache, my yearning for him, my fears for his safety.
“Bar?” I called silently.
“You rang?”
“Where are you?”
“On the hilltop above you.”
I knew it was fruitless, but I couldn’t help lifting and turning my face toward the dark humps of the desert hills.
“Can you see me?”
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
I sighed, snuggling deeper into my blanket and Tuatha’s warmth. “Just feeling lonely, I reckon.”
“You’re not alone.”
“That’s good to know.”
“You miss him, don’t you?”
“Every minute.”
“For a wolf, he’s not a bad human.”
I chuckled, smothering the sound with my hand. “You like him, then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t put words in my beak. You know how I hate that.”
I giggled into my arm, drawing my blanket over my shoulder against the chilly desert air. “You’re such a fraud.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Will you watch over me? All night?”
“I’ve better things to do.”
“I love you.”
Bar’s sigh sounded clearly put upon. “I suppose I’m expected to get teary-eyed and mushy and tell you how much I love you, too.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
I smothered a giggle in Tuatha’s fur and fell asleep with Bar’s love enveloping me like a second warm blanket.
“I’m worried about Rygel.”
Using the same techniques of the day before, I laced Arianne into the stiff brocade gown using both hands and my mouth. I dropped a string from my teeth when I asked her, “Er, why?”
She shrugged, a combination of both a gesture of puzzlement and a shoulder roll to get the gown more comfortable on her back. “He seems very tense, withdrawn even. It’s not like him to not talk to me.”
“He’s not talking to you?”
That was indeed worrisome. I used my wrist to regain the string I dropped, gazing past Arianne’s dark head at Rygel under the thick fall of my snarled hair. Like Kel’Ratan and my boys, he curried Shardon in preparation for saddling him. But unlike them, the two stood apart from the others, almost out of the boundaries of our camp. His back turned toward us, he groomed Shardon’s coat as though his very life depended upon it. Shardon stood quiet, his ears back, and the one eye I could see fixed on Rygel at his shoulder. Did he look worried? I bit my lip. Shardon would know if Rygel were troubled, but as he owed his loyalty to Rygel, he wouldn’t speak of it.
“Maybe it’s just the tension,” Arianne went on. “We’re all feeling it.”
As I laced her into the gown, I surveyed the activity of the others. Tor, still acting as camp cook, went round with offers of food. He’d already fed Arianne and Rygel, Arianne slipping me half of her generous fare. The twins ate as they saddled their horses, their collars glinting under the newly risen sun. Concerned, I watched as Witraz waved Tor away impatiently, refusing food. Yuri and Yuras accepted theirs as they packed the patient black gelding, munching the cold roast, bread and cheese with one hand as they worked.
Alun saddled Mikk. I clenched my jaw as he tightened the girth too tight. Mikk pinned his ears in disgusted irritation. I’d no way of knowing if Alun had already eaten or refused food out of worry, since Tor didn’t offer him any. Rannon took down the tent, folding it away neatly for travel.
My eyes wandered to Kel’Ratan. He, too, groomed h
is bay stallion, the horse still nibbling on stalks of the thin grass that thrust upward from the sand. He shot occasional glances toward Rygel, his red mustache bristling. More obvious, Corwyn stood beside his packed and saddled roan gelding, and watched Rygel openly, his arms across his chest. Ah, so they, too, worried. Arianne’s sight, or instinct, was true.
Tuatha ate his breakfast from Arianne’s lap while I fixed her hair.
“Talk to him, if you can,” I murmured.
Her face turned toward me, her right eye cast over her shoulder. “I’ll try. But he’s been so – “
“What?”
“Cold.”
Rygel offered Arianne the cold shoulder? Unease dropped its heavy, obstinate load in my gut. I didn’t need any more information to know that something was wrong. Very wrong.
With Arianne dressed, fed and ready for travel, I couldn’t speak to her any longer. Kel’Ratan, not Rygel, helped her into her saddle. Arianne gathered her wide, leather reins, her glorious eyes moist as she watched Rygel vault aboard Shardon, his back still turned toward her. She may be a consummate actress when confronted with enemy soldiers, but among us, those who loved her, her façade dropped. Rygel’s actions not only worried her, they caused her sharp pain.
None could, or would, help me into my saddle. I dared not seize a handful of thick black mane and vault aboard, as the morning light had travelers already riding, driving or herding beasts up and down the Federal Highway. Too many eyes already cast us curious glances as they went past. We were late in getting on the road.
Mikk stood too high for me to get my foot in his stirrup. Arianne clucked to her Rufus and led the band forward while I floundered about, trying to mount. Left and Right stood patient, already sitting their horses, waiting for me with bland expressions. Dragging Mikk to a nearby rock, I climbed it, then jumped awkwardly into his saddle. I hoped that if anyone witnessed this, they saw a slave uncomfortable with horses climb aboard one. Mikk endured this drama with a confused eye, yet no end of loving patience. I nudged him into a trot to catch up to the others.
We rode through the hot morning, riding the highway that took us north and west, along the broad, dusty valley teeming with rovers, animals, wagons, camels, donkeys, caravans going in both directions. Manure-laden dust kicked up by hooves, wheels and feet covered my hair in a thin film and threatened me with an outraged nose. I sneezed several times, trying to cover the noise in my shoulder. Rubbing the residual itch from my nostril with my finger, I observed yet another long line of slaves chained to one another, walking tiredly in single file. Slavers with whips mounted on lean horses rode guard. I couldn’t identify their nation of origin. Had I the need to guess, I might have named them Connachti, by their angular faces and ragged clothing.
I itched to know whether Arianne managed a conversation with Rygel or not. Damn it, I couldn’t tell. She rode to the front, as before, Rygel and Kel’Ratan just behind. The rest of us rode in pairs, as we did the previous day. Under my hair, I studied Rygel as I never had before. He kept his head bowed as I did, but his eyes seemed to study Shardon’s mane rather than peer up from under his yellow hair. Were his shoulders tense? Kel’Ratan tried to speak to him three or four times and was ignored. Arianne’s face appeared over her shoulder from time to time, but as the morning wore on, I saw it less and less. That didn’t reassure me, however.
Kel’Ratan rode stiff in the saddle, his bay prancing rather than trotting. I bit my lip. The stallion’s equine language told me Kel’Ratan felt tense, uneasy. His horse never pranced except when Kel’Ratan was under stress. Corwyn and his roan told me little. If either of them worried, neither showed it. Damn it, this wasn’t a good time for Rygel to fall apart on us.
Arianne reined in when yet another troop of Khalidian soldiers loped across the desert toward us. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rygel said they were paid poorly, and needed the bribes to survive. Of course they tended to target the wealthy rather than the obvious penniless peasantry, trudging under their heavy packs, or leading laden donkeys.
The patrol leader lifted his right fist in a halting gesture to the men behind him as his horse slid into a sandy stop a few rods from Arianne’s Rufus. She coughed delicately and waved her hand in front of her face when the Khalidian horses kicked up a small dust storm.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” the patrol leader said politely.
“I should hope so,” Arianne snapped, still waving her hand to keep the dust from her eyes. “What the blazes do you want?”
A taller more assertive man than the corporal who stopped us yesterday, he looked like he’d been around the block a time or ten. His blue eyes surveyed Arianne’s small column with a detached, knowing expression. Six royal troopers rode with him. Four split apart, riding down our column in pairs to each side. Two reined in halfway down, near Yuri and Yuras. The others halted a short distance away from me. I kept my head bowed while I peeped at the leader under my snarled locks. My hand, of its own accord, slid toward the knife at my hip. Tuatha snarled silently, his needle teeth gleaming. Didn’t I say he was smart?
“I trust you’ve a travelling pass, Your Highness?”
“Of course.”
Arianne half-turned in her saddle to cast a disdainful expression over her shoulder. “Steward – whatever your name is – fetch my pass, would you?”
“Instantly, Your Highness.”
Once more, Rygel retrieved a small gem from his saddlebag. Arianne tossed it in the soldier’s general direction, hoping no doubt that it would land in the dirt, allowing us the freedom to leave while the Federal troops searched for it.
The patrol leader caught it deftly. When he held it up to the sun, admiring it, I recognized a small diamond.
“My thanks,” he said, smiling, dropping the jewel into his belt pouch.
Arianne made as though to ride on, but the lieutenant and his men remained firmly in place, blocking her path. The load in my gut rolled over, churning.
“May I inquire as to your destination?” he asked politely, with a half bow toward Arianne’s royal sigil.
This fellow would prove Arianne’s mettle, I thought.
“May I inquire as to why it’s any of your business?” she retorted tartly.
His white teeth gleamed in a swift grin, there and gone. “Your Highness must know it’s my duty to question travelers along the royal highway. As well as keep them safe.”
“You bloody know I have the royal prerogative to travel here, unmolested,” Arianne returned with a snap.
My heart soared. Arianne unleashed wasn’t just a treasure, but a diamond cut from the rough. Raine, you should see her! She not only was the princess she was born to be, she had the insight to know what was required without the training. Like a hawk who refused to return to the glove, she soared into the sky, free and wild.
“I do indeed know this, Your Highness,” said the commander, a lieutenant. “Where are you going, please?”
“You’re nosier than an old woman,” Arianne complained. “Why I should explain is quite beyond my ken, but as I’m feeling quite agreeable, I’ll oblige you. My husband died recently, and I travel on pilgrimage to pray for his soul. Does this satisfy your silly curiosity?”
The lieutenant bowed in his saddle. “My condolences on your loss, Your Highness.”
“Then let me continue without all these indecent questions.” Arianne gathered her reins in preparation for nudging Rufus forward, past the patrol. He, however, remained stubbornly in her path.
My hand itched to have a blade in it.
“I recognize your sigil,” the young man said smoothly. “You’re our High King’s cousin.”
“So?” Arianne replied shortly, her hands tight on her reins. “What of it?”
“Somehow,” the lieutenant surveyed her up and down without disrespect. “I’d have expected someone…older.”
All right. These men would die. I filled my hand with a knife, ready to throw at the nearest soldier. He stood off to my left, an ea
sy target for my cast, looking bored and inattentive. I could send my blade between his slack brown eyes in less than a flash.
Behind me, Left and Right also tensed, ready to launch themselves into battle with nothing but their courage and their daggers. My boys fingered weapons, stroked sword hilts, cautiously nocked arrows to bowstrings. Without a sword, Tor had only his bow. He slithered an arrow from the quiver hanging from his saddle, kept it hidden, his brows over his huge brown eyes lowered. I remembered his sharp abilities with a bow. He should do well.
Rygel never moved. Nor did Kel’Ratan. Arianne merely laughed.
“Ah, the rumors that find their way around the court,” she said, shaking her dark head. “Do I look like an old matron?”
“No, of course not,” the lieutenant replied, also smiling at the jest.
“I married young,” she said, relaxing into her saddle, her hand on her reins negligent. “My father was Lionel’s younger brother. I, of course, married a man much older than I. He died in the battles for supremacy in Soudan when Lionel was brutally murdered.”
“I heard, Your Highness. Again, I share your grief.”
How in the name of Nephrotiti did Arianne know all that?
Arianne shrugged. “Thus the rumors abound that I’m an old maid. At least my husband died fighting for the true High King, Broughton the First, may he reign forever. That is, of course, my comfort in these horrid times.”
Brutal reigning forever? Now there was a thought to cause nightmares.
“Amen to that,” the soldier replied. “How may I serve you, Your Highness?”
“Give me time,” Arianne answered, her voice loud and humored. “I’ll think of something.”
A rider, spurring his horse hard through the sand and dust of the desert, galloped toward us. The polite lieutenant wheeled his horse in the direction of the new threat, his hand on his hilt. His patrol formed around him and us, offering both protection and guardianship of the High King’s cousin and her entourage.
The newcomer reined his horse in sharply, the chestnut’s hindquarters slinging low as it slid to a stop. Sandy dust roiled up, all but obscuring him. From behind its cloud, the soldier saluted his commander.
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