The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  He shook his head, as he appraised my outfit again. “We may be able to leave sooner than I thought. Could you be ready to leave for Port Dyn the day after tomorrow?”

  I took a moment to calculate the distance and probable traveling time from our location in southeastern Mynissbyr to the southern coastal cliffs of the Dynwatre province. “I will need to have Lily and Aunt Alaine help me alter a few more items tomorrow, but I’m sure that with their help I will be ready. But—” I paused, embarrassed.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a bit difficult to dress myself,” I said, not meeting his eyes. “There are, um, bindings, you see, that are necessary for me to appear more, ah,” I swallowed, “boyish.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. Frustrated again at the heat creeping up my neck and into my face, my words came out more clipped than I intended.

  “Regardless of the fealty you’ve sworn, it would be most improper to have you assist me, Sir Julien.” Had I been able to think at all, I would have kept my mouth shut rather than to suffer the embarrassment it drew to my face.

  When I’d regained enough composure to risk a glance at Julien his expression was vague. As much as I wanted to, I refrained from seeing his thoughts without permission.

  “I may have a solution for that problem,” he said. “I will go and speak to my mother about the matter and then I will join you for dinner.” He turned toward the door but swiveled back, smirking. “Should I expect my new squire at table tonight, Rozen?” he asked, his eyes alight with humor. “Or will the princess be joining me?”

  “The princess has informed me that she would very much enjoy dining with you this evening, Sir Julien.”

  “Very well,” he said. “I was hoping that she would. She has much better manners than my squire.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The sun had not yet appeared above the eastern tree line when Erielle entered my chamber two mornings later. Wearing breeches and a heavy linen shirt, she stood just inside the door between Julien’s room and mine.

  “You’re about rather early,” I said. “But I’m glad I got to see you one last time before we have to leave.”

  “One last time? Oh, don’t be so maudlin. I’m here to help you dress for your trip, Princess.” She winked and leaned in toward my ear. “And to serve you thus all the way to Port Dyn!”

  With a squeal I reached out to hug her. We danced a little circle around the room. “I am so relieved!” I laughed. “I was afraid Julien had forgotten about that particular problem.”

  “You think so little of my memory, Princess?” Julien chuckled from behind Erielle. His chamber had only one lamp lit and I hadn’t noticed him there.

  “Certainly not,” I said. “But you hadn’t mentioned it again.”

  “Perhaps I wanted to surprise you,” he said. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew they held the merriment of teasing.

  I held the lamp to my face. “Get a good look then, Knight,” I said boldly, “for this butterfly will disappear momentarily and you will be left with naught but a wormy squire in her place.”

  “May it be so,” he laughed.

  Erielle flashed a grin. “Begone, knave,” she said, pushing him back into his room, “we’ve a bit of wormifying to attend to.”

  With Erielle’s help it took hardly any time to become Rozen the squire. As I finished pinning the hairpiece in place I voiced a question that had troubled my dreams. “Erielle, has your brother spoken for a lady at court?”

  I was probably breaking a hundred rules of propriety by asking. But the more time I spent with Julien, the more time I wanted to spend with him. Even though I was as sure of the answer to my question, and just as sure that confirming it was bound to hurt me, I was afraid if I entertained my dreams any longer it would make the pain of crushing them even worse.

  “Julien?” She laughed. “No.”

  “No?” That was not the answer I had expected. “But someone like Julien must receive a fair amount of female attention,” I mused. Perhaps she had misunderstood my question. “Surely there is some lady that has earned his favor.”

  “Being the heir to the Regency, my brother is, of course, quite sought after as a dancing partner,” Erielle admitted. She searched my face for a long moment. “But to my knowledge he’s never shown particular favor to any lady of his acquaintance.”

  “Hmm.”

  The flicker of a smile crossed her face as she turned away, and had she not turned I would have had to hide my own.

  I pulled the gray squire’s cap over my black hairpiece and slid the spectacles onto my face. Rynnaia was gone. Black-haired Rose, even, had disappeared. For the next several weeks I would be Rozen de Morphys, squire to Sir Julien de Gladiel.

  “You look very wormy indeed, Squire Rozen,” Erielle said when she examined my costume. “Now it’s my turn.” Stepping up to the looking glass, she pulled a blond hairpiece over her tightly coiled hair. “I’d thought to cut my hair years ago, but my father forbade it.” She cocked a smile as she added a dark brown cap to her ensemble. “In retrospect, I’m glad. Short hair on a young lady might draw scorn at a ball and I do so love to dance.”

  The metamorphosis was complete, each of us a contradiction. Standing side by side at the mirror, we grinned at our boyish reflections.

  “I’m Rozen, but what should I call you?” I asked her. “I can’t call you Erielle!”

  “Erril de Skyzer, at your service!” She bowed.

  “Surely you jest!” I laughed. “Isn’t disguiser a bit, well, obvious?”

  She frowned, sighing. “You’re right, of course. What do you suggest?”

  I thought for a moment before the perfect name came to me. “You are descended from the Bear-men, so . . . how about de Bruin?”

  “Erril de Bruin,” she tried the name out. “I like it!”

  I gathered my saddlebags while Erielle doused the candles and shrugged into her cloak. We knocked on Julien’s door, but when he didn’t answer we went on through. Erielle grabbed her bags and we headed downstairs. I hadn’t seen much of Fyrlean Manor during my stay, having been confined between my room and Julien’s, and it didn’t appear that I’d be seeing any more of it now. We quietly left the house and headed for the stables.

  “Rozen,” Erielle whispered. I turned and grinned at her, answering to my new name for the first time. Her face, lit by the lamp she carried, held a serious expression.

  “What?” I asked, concerned.

  She grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear. “You’ve got to try to walk more like a boy!”

  Oh dear. This was going to be harder than I thought.

  Stanza whinnied as I approached. It seemed he’d forgiven me for riding Salvador the night we came to Fyrlean Manor. I lowered my voice and spoke softly as I saddled my horse, trying to do it in a less-girlish fashion than I would have normally. He cocked his ears and danced a few steps away, so I leaned in to him and sent him my thoughts instead. He relaxed and allowed me to continue. I attached the saddlebags with ease, glad that at least my horsemanship was above reproach.

  Julien approached with two knights. “This is my squire, Rozen de Morphys, late of Veetri.”

  Although the lilting accent I had acquired during my years in Veetri had faded quite a bit since coming to Mynissbyr, I allowed myself to fall back into my old manner of speech. Julien quirked an eyebrow, but the intensity of my brogue must have convinced Sir Alek and Sir Rylin. Each gave me a slight nod, which I returned as boyishly as I could manage. Which was, in all likelihood, still rather girlish.

  “Rozen will ride in front with me. Alek, Rylin, you take the rear and Erielle will stay between us.” He turned to Erielle. “You will,” he repeated, “stay between us.”

  At that Erielle told him that her name was now Errill de Bruin, not Erielle, and it would do him well to remember it. Julien laughed at the last name and I had to turn away to hide my smile. Sir Alek and Sir Rylin only chuckled, clearly used to Erielle’s saucy
remarks.

  As we left the stables I sensed Lily and Alaine watching from a window. I could not turn and wave without giving myself away, but I could use my Andoven abilities to tell them good-bye. I was glad the Regent’s knights were at my back and did not note the sniffles that accompanied those farewells.

  For two days we rode hard through Mynissbyr Wood, often in single file with Julien in the lead. We crossed the icy Ursina River at a large stone bridge, but other than that, we kept away from the main trails, camping within the cover of the trees and sleeping as close to the fire as we dared.

  I was afraid of acting too feminine, so I didn’t speak to Erielle unless she first spoke to me. Sir Alek and Sir Rylin, however, were good at drawing me into their conversations.

  “Stanza’s a rather odd name for a horse, isn’t it, Rozen?”

  “Odd how?” I asked. “His name was inspired by a poem.”

  “Aach!” Sir Rylin laughed. “You Veetrish! Must everything be,” he made his voice go higher, mimicking mine, “inspired?”

  “Not everything.” I’d quickly adapted to the knights’ teasing. “But Stanza is a rather remarkable horse, I think. He deserved to be given a name that would do him justice.”

  “So, what’s the story, Rozen?” Erielle prodded. “How did Stanza get his name?”

  I smiled, thinking back to my seventeenth birthday, before Gladiel came to Mirthan Hall to deliver me to the Bear’s Rest. “As you no doubt know,” I said, “in Veetri it is our habit to use verse to express emotion. When I noted that white mark upon his forehead and how it stood out against the black, a poem came to mind.”

  “A poem came to mind,” Rylin mocked, but he patted my back to let me know his scorn was in jest.

  “What poem?” Erielle leaned forward.

  I leaned forward, and when I lowered my voice, my companions leaned in as well. “A ripple ’cross the inky black celestial-studded night. A glimmer’s trace for just a breath, thus ends its path of light.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Erielle said.

  “Aww, you Veetrish.” Sir Alek echoed Rylin’s guffaw. “Always spouting off some verse or other.”

  “Oh hush, you silly knights,” Erielle scolded. “Let Rozen tell the tale.”

  I shrugged. “That’s about it, I’m afraid.”

  “But I don’t understand.” Erielle wrinkled her nose. “The poem is about a shooting star.”

  “Lady—er—my mother wanted to name him Glimmer, after the poem.” I glanced at Julien, who wore a strange expression on his face. But Rylin stopped me from commenting on it.

  “That’s a rather feminine name for a stallion.”

  “That’s exactly what I said.” I nodded to Rylin. “So we tossed around some ideas and finally landed on Stanza because, although there is quite a bit more to the poem, I only recited one wee little stanza of it.”

  “Well,” Alek chuckled, “what a very Veetrish thing to do.”

  I shrugged. “No matter where I call home, a big piece of my heart will always be in Veetri.”

  “As it should be.” Rylin nodded. “You’re a good lad,” he said, and then added with a wink, “and I imagine once you’ve had a few years of Sir Julien’s tutelage under your Veetrish belt, you’ll make a fine squire as well.”

  Julien rose. “I’ll take the first watch. You should all get some sleep.”

  “Sir Julien?” I stood. “Might I have a word?”

  “Come.”

  I followed him away from the fire, away from the listening ears of those who thought me nothing more than Sir Julien’s clueless Veetrish squire. He stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into him.

  “Sorry.”

  “You needed a word?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. “I—” What was it I wanted to speak with him about? Faced with the stone face of a knight speaking to his squire, I drew a blank. “We are near the province line?”

  “Yes. We’ll cross into Stoen tomorrow and angle down to Dynwey Road. We should reach it by nightfall. Was there anything else?”

  Yes, I thought, there is something else. I looked at the ground. I miss the old Julien. The courteous Julien. The Julien who remembered I was a girl. I kicked the dirt and sighed. “There was, but I forgot. I’ll . . . go.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait.” His whisper made me turn back around. “Please.” His expression softened. “I know your disguise is necessary, but it troubles me when you speak of the duke and duchess as your parents. They are not your parents.”

  Anger flared within me so suddenly, it took my breath. To listen to the knights’ teasing as they insulted the Veetrish was one thing. To have Julien disparage Lord and Lady Whittier was quite another.

  “How are they not my parents?” I whispered through my teeth, each syllable clenching my jaw a bit tighter than the last. “They are more my parents than some stranger who sits on a throne and is willing to cast off his only child for nineteen years!”

  “King Jarryn didn’t—”

  I lifted a hand to stop his words. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up feeling like there must be something wrong with you because your father doesn’t want to claim you? To have a father who won’t even tell you his name, or your own name even, lest you be associated with him? Of course you don’t! Your father loves you! He was proud to be seen with you and to call you his son. My father won’t even admit I exist!”

  “Your father loves you. Everything he did was to protect—”

  “To protect me? Or to keep me alive so I can fulfill some prophecy?” My hands fisted at my sides and my elbows locked in place. “Don’t defend him, Julien. I don’t care if he is King. He’s a liar,” I hissed. “A liar!”

  “Shh. Quiet.” Julien stepped to the side, pushed me behind him, and silently drew his sword.

  “Rozen? Are you about—oh.” Erielle paused, then smirked when she saw Julien’s sword. “A bit jumpy, aren’t we, Julien?”

  “You should know better than to sneak up on me in the dark, Erielle.”

  “It’s Erril, remember? And I wasn’t sneaking. In fact, I made so much noise coming over here that I probably woke up the guard at Castle Rynwyk.”

  Her mention of the King’s home only deepened my scowl. “I’m going back to the camp.” I stepped around Julien.

  “Wait. Please.” He placed a hand on my arm, but I shook it off. Had Rylin or Alek been present, he would have been forced to discipline me in some way. A squire was never allowed to behave so disrespectfully toward a knight. But Rylin and Alek were not present. And I was not Julien’s squire.

  I barely slept that night, though I did a fare job of convincing my campmates otherwise. But when dawn greeted us with the winter birds’ song, the ground was not the only thing covered with frost.

  If Alek and Rylin felt the tension in the air, they did not comment on it. And I, determined to be every inch a squire, obeyed Julien’s commands with superb efficiency, but little enthusiasm.

  Finally, we left Mynissbyr and entered the province of Stoen. Salderyn, E’veria’s capital city, and Castle Rynwyk, the home of the King, were in Stoen, just a week or two’s ride to the east. For me, the bitter taste of deception flavored even the air of the entire province. And all the years of longing to know my father were tainted by anger.

  Beside me, Julien was silent as a stone, his back rigid in the saddle. Every so often he would glance at me as if he had something to say, but each time he met my icy gaze, he sighed and turned away.

  By the time we stopped to make camp that night I was exhausted. After caring for Stanza and brushing down Salvador, a duty any proper squire would perform for his mentor, I devoured the sparse but filling meal Rylin had prepared over the fire.

  “I will take the first watch,” Julien said. “And Rozen?”

  I lifted my head from the hard, flavorless biscuit that was the staple of every meal I’d had since leaving Fyrlean Manor. “Yes?”

  “When you’ve finished eating, see to it that the horses
are each given an apple from the bag. They’ve ridden hard and deserve a treat.” That was certainly true. “Then come and join me for the watch.”

  Dread, and not a little twinge of guilt, assailed me. But if I was to maintain the role of a squire I could not disobey. “Yes, Sir Julien. Right away.”

  I popped the last bite of the biscuit into my mouth as Julien strode away. There were just enough apples left for each of our five horses to get one. I could tell from the feel of them that they would be mealy and mildly unpleasant should we have eaten them ourselves, but the horses wouldn’t mind.

  Salvador was uncharacteristically fidgety as he ate the apple. His eyes darted to me and away, much like Julien’s had all day during our ride. I leaned my head into his neck. As soon as my mind connected to his, I gasped, overcome with the mighty beast’s confusion. He worried that he’d displeased me and didn’t know how or why.

  “You are such a good, beautiful boy,” I cooed, quietly enough that no one except Salvador, and possibly Stanza, could hear. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Julien’s face suddenly flashed into my mind amidst a swirl of muted green and gold. His scent—something I’d never noticed before, but knew to be uniquely him, overcame the scent of horse and apple. It spoke of evergreen needles and leather, linen and steel. I was seeing—er, smelling Julien as Salvador saw him.

  “Oh, I see.” Salvador was confused about me because Julien was confused about me. Their bond was much deeper, I realized, than mine with Stanza. “I’m sorry, Salvador,” I whispered. “I’ll try to make it right.”

  Salvador’s whinny ended with a snort, almost as if to say, “It’s about time, Princess.”

  “You’d best move faster, squire,” Rylin warned from his place by the fire. “Sir Julien does not like to be kept waiting.”

  “Sorry.” Quickly distributing the rest of the apples, I went in search of Julien. He was easy to find.

  “Sir Julien.”

  “We are alone?”