“Romar,” she whispered, unable to fully find her voice.
But there was no time for talking. He snatched her to him, kissing her with a fervor that approached desperation. Magically, his clothes were gone, her clothes. Without seeming to move, they found themselves lying on his bed. Kirra thought she would die if they did not make love, now, instantly; and then they did, and she thought she would die of happiness. Impossible that anyone in the world had ever felt this way before. Nothing had ever been as wonderful, as devastating, as this.
OF course, Kirra being Kirra, it was not long before laughter came back to her. She lay face-to-face beside Romar in the rumpled bed, running her hand idly up the hard ridges of his arm.
“You have a most beautiful body,” she told him. “Powerful. I like to feel your muscles.”
He shrugged and she felt the ripples under the skin. “Any soldier, any man who wields a sword, has muscles like these. Or better.”
“So if I were to undress—Justin, for instance—”
He kissed her swiftly. “You had better not. I am very jealous.”
“One of the other Riders. Or Colton, even. I would find their bodies to be as impressive as yours?”
He grinned. “As strong, certainly. As impressive? Well—”
She made a fist and laid it, oh so gently, against his chin. “I see you are an arrogant man, like any lord from the Twelve Houses.”
“Indeed, no. Humbled and grateful that any woman as beautiful as you would condescend to spend any time at all with me.”
“Yes, it is a sacrifice,” she admitted, now tugging at his hair, his beautiful dark blond hair. She loved the way it curled around her fingers. “Oh, horrors, Romar Brendyn is expecting me, I must go to his bed tonight or he will be very disappointed.”
He laughed. “Well, I would have been. But if it is such an onerous chore for you—”
“If he were handsome, if he were noble, if he were brave, then I would not mind so much consorting with him under cover of darkness. But as it is—”
He kissed her again, forcing her head back against the pillows and pulling her tightly against him. “There would be many reasons for you not to come here tonight,” he whispered when he lifted his head. “You don’t need to list them.”
“I can’t think of any,” she replied, and kissed him back. “Though I do think you’re brave and noble,” she said at last, when she had had enough kisses to satisfy her long enough to try conversation again. “The way you outmaneuvered Halchon Gisseltess tonight! I was quite impressed. Senneth thinks the nobles will take notice as well—that you have earned your reputation tonight.”
“I was glad the soldiers were able to mobilize so quickly—glad they were able to breach the Towers as they did. It was more a matter of luck than bravery, on my part anyway.”
“Oh, well, a lucky man—I don’t know if I’m so impressed by that,” Kirra said, pretending to turn away. “Maybe I should look elsewhere for my lover.”
He pulled her back and they wrestled a little, laughing, until he had pinned Kirra’s hands above her head and thrown a leg over her knees to hold her in place. “I am lucky that you love me tonight,” he said, smiling down at her. “How lucky will I have to be to hold you forever?”
Her own smile was full of both merriment and warning. “You know you cannot hold me by brute strength,” she said. “You know that at any moment, even now, I could turn into some other shape and slip out of your hands.”
“I know that,” he said. “How do I keep you? For I want to.”
“Just love me,” she said.
He bent down to kiss her again. It was the answer she wanted, and the rest came after. She thought that he did not need to worry; there would be nothing he could do to drive her away.
CHAPTER 31
THEY were on the road a little after noon, everyone a little ill-tempered. Amalie was quiet, Senneth and Valri looked tense, and Tayse was downright grim. Even Kirra, who had never been happier in her life, was made irritable by lack of sleep and the necessity of undergoing yet another few days of travel.
Unable to face the effort needed to stay on horseback, she climbed into her coach and thought she might try to sleep away the early hours of the journey. Donnal and Melly were already inside, dozing in opposite corners. Kirra settled herself into a third corner and bunched a cloak behind her head for a pillow. She was asleep only a few minutes after the whole caravan had gone in motion.
When she woke, her head was against Donnal’s shoulder, his arm was around her waist, and Melly was gone. The carriage still rocked forward at a steady pace, so they were still in transit.
“What time is it? How long have I slept?” she asked through a yawn, rubbing her eyes.
“About three hours.”
“How did Melly get out?”
A laugh. “We stopped about an hour ago for a rest.”
“Have I been leaning on you this whole time?”
“I don’t know. I was asleep myself till the break.”
“Has anything exciting happened?”
“Not exciting enough for them to wake us up.”
“Good. Then I want to go back to sleep. But wake me up again if we stop. I’m hungry.”
For a moment, his hand lifted to rest on her hair. She thought he was going to say something, and with a great effort kept her eyes open so she could pay attention. But all he said was, “All right. Go back to sleep.”
It was always easier to sleep with Donnal beside her. Either the warmth of his body or the comfort of his presence or the sheer knowledge that nothing, nothing, could harm her while he was nearby made it a simple thing to close her eyes and slip into dreaming. Kirra did not wake again until the motion of the carriage stopped, and Donnal stirred against her.
“Supper break,” he said, shaking her shoulder. “Do you want to get up?”
They joined the others for a quick meal, and Kirra took the chance to freshen up as well. She was feeling much better, both rested and cheerful, and she laughed so much over the meal that Justin walked away in annoyance and Cammon watched her with surprise. Tayse gave her one comprehensive glance and then turned most of his attention to Senneth.
It hardly mattered. She felt splendid. She was ready to go riding for the rest of the journey. They were moving through the unaligned territory between Nocklyn and Rappengrass, mostly flatlands spiky with skinny pine trees and brushy undergrowth. Pretty enough country with the occasional spectacular view. Kirra commandeered a horse and saddled up just as Tayse gave the order to move out. It was no surprise that Romar pulled his horse alongside hers as the caravan slowly got under way again.
“You’ve been sleeping, haven’t you?” he accused. “Resting in the carriage. While I have been drooping in the saddle, scarcely able to keep the reins in my hand.”
“Yes, I’m feeling quite refreshed,” she replied. “The coach is empty now. You could nap for the rest of the journey.”
“I doubt we’ve got more than another hour of travel ahead of us,” Romar replied. “I don’t think Tayse wants to keep Amalie on the road once it’s dark. I assume he’s aiming for an inn somewhere along the road.”
“It hasn’t occurred to me to ask before,” she said, trying to make her question and her face innocent. “When we stop for the night on the road, do you bivouac with your men or take a room?”
He grinned at her, clearly not deceived by her nonchalant manner. “It depends on the weather, usually,” he said. “On cold nights or wet ones, I sleep indoors. On fine nights, out with the men.”
She turned her face up as if to test the wind on her cheeks. It had been hot and stuffy in the carriage, and the air was still close with the accumulated heat of summer. Not a single cloud cluttered the fading blue of the evening sky. “I feel certain it will rain tonight,” she said. “I feel certain you must stay indoors.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said, keeping his voice serious. “Colton told me that the Merrenstow men are restless. He thought I
should take my next few meals with them, be available to listen to grievances. I thought I’d take my place beside him at a campfire tonight.”
She was sure the expression on her face was ludicrously crestfallen. “Really? Well—of course—I mean, I understand how important it is to keep the faith of your men—”
He burst out laughing. “No, I was joking. No Merrenstow soldier would ever whine about such things! If he did, we’d boot him out of our guard. I’m taking a room.”
Now she felt giddy again, as if she had been spinning in circles. But she kept her face solemn. Two could play this game. “I am sure you must share your quarters with Colton,” she said. “He deserves a soft bed after a hard day of riding.”
He eyed her with a grin. “No, indeed. Colton is required at the campfire. I don’t believe he’s ever slept inside an inn his whole life. Possibly he’s never slept under a roof. I’ll have to ask him sometime. A very hardy man, my captain. No soft living for him.”
“Then—you’ll be—quite alone?” she asked with exaggerated delicacy. “All night?”
“Unless there’s a willing barmaid or girl from the taproom—”
She hit him, hard, on the arm, then was instantly appalled. Not that she’d struck him, but that someone might have seen. But there was no outcry, no one turned in the saddle to stare at them, and Romar himself was grinning.
“That hurt,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I suppose I should be glad there weren’t claws on your fingertips at that particular moment. I was joking again, you know.”
“I know. I would have made the same kind of joke if positions were reversed. It just—caught me by surprise.”
He was silent a moment. “It is you I want in my bedroom tonight, Kirra,” he said. “If you ever had any doubt. If you needed me to say it. Tonight, and for as many nights as we can manage. That’s not much to offer you but I—”
“I will be there,” she interrupted. “I will come to you. Anytime you want me—anytime we can be alone together.”
He was watching her, his head turned sideways so he could see her, his expression rueful and a little sad. “Think of all the times, from now on. Years and years from now,” he said. “We’ll be at Ghosenhall together. Or Rappengrass or Brassenthwaite or wherever we might meet. And some of those times you might have a husband in tow. Sometimes I’ll be accompanied by my wife. But sometimes one or both of us will be alone. And we’ll be in a room, with twenty or fifty or a hundred other people, and we’ll look at each other, and we’ll know. We’ll know that we want to be together that night, but we won’t be able to say the words out loud, because the king will be listening, or your father, or Kiernan Brassenthwaite. How will I be able to tell you, yes, it is safe for you to come to my room? Shall I wear a ruby ring on the days I can welcome you? Tie my hair a certain way, wear a particular hat? Maybe I shall just drop a specific word into conversation. ‘Hummingbird,’ I’ll say, no matter what the season, and everyone else will look at me strangely, but you’ll know. You’ll know I’m talking to you. You’ll know I want you, and you’ll come to my room, and you won’t leave till morning.”
“There is an old tale in Danalustrous about a marlord who was in love with one of his vassal’s daughters,” Kirra told him. “He was married, of course, and had three sons, and a cold and suspicious wife. And there would be many occasions when the vassal and his family would come to stay for a few days at Danan Hall. The marlord and the young lady devised this system of signals to communicate with each other during dinner, or during a ball, or anytime there was a roomful of people and they could not speak.”
Romar appeared fascinated. “What? What did they do?”
“The marlord would cross his arms upon his chest with his fingers tucked to his ribs. But then, while she watched, he would free one finger of his right hand, or two, or three, and lay them casually along his arm. This meant, ‘Come to me at one—or two—or three.’ And she would go to him. If he pulled his signet ring from the finger of his left hand and put it on his right hand, that meant, ‘It is not safe for you to come to me tonight. Unlock your door and I will come to you instead.’ If he wanted her to meet him in the gardens, he would pick a rose from one of the flower arrangements and carelessly pull its petals off while engaged in conversation with someone else. If she thought her father was watching her too closely for her to get away, she would lift her pendant and absently kiss it, then lay it back across her throat again.”
“Very subtle,” Romar said. “What if one of them made the gesture, but the other one was not watching and missed it?”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t you be watching?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Any more codes?”
Kirra flattened the palm of her left hand against her cheek, then curled it into a fist and laid it against her heart. “Sometimes, no matter how much they wanted to, they could not find a way to get free for the night. So they would send each other this signal, which meant, ‘I love you, I will love you always.’ I’m sure there were many nights that was the message they had to send.”
“How is it you know this?” he demanded. “How long ago did these people live?”
“It depends on who tells the tale. Sometimes they lived two hundred years ago, sometimes three or four hundred years. They might not even be real. But I think they are.”
“And the story’s been handed down over that much time?”
“Oh, yes. I think I learned it when I was a child. It’s part of Danalustrous lore. There’s a set of portraits—my father’s grandparents—hanging in one of the back galleries. She’s leaning her cheek against her hand; he’s got his fist against his heart. Very subtle, but everyone who knows the story knows what their postures mean. ‘I love you, I will love you always.’ ”
“That’s sweet,” he commented. “How does the original tale end? The one with the marlord and his mistress?”
She recoiled a little from the word mistress, but not so much that he noticed. “Unhappily, I’m afraid. Apparently the marlady learned to interpret their signals, and one day she met the young lady in the gardens before the marlord could arrive. Again, the tales vary on how the girl met her end, but suffice it to say that it was the last assignation she ever kept.”
Romar was staring at her. “She died? The marlady had her killed?”
Kirra felt her laughter bubble up. “Strangled or stabbed through the heart, yes. Everyone dies badly in the old folk tales, you know. No such thing as a happy ending.”
“Yes, but they don’t all end with murder,” he exclaimed. “What happened to the marlady?”
Kirra laughed again. “Bore the old lord two daughters and another son. Happily ever after for her, I suppose.”
“Perhaps it’s time to invent some hand gestures of our own—ones not freighted with such a legacy,” he said.
“I think, whatever our own story holds, it is not murder in a garden at midnight,” Kirra said. “We are safe from that at least.”
Romar didn’t answer, but there was no time for more private conversation anyway. Cammon dropped back to ask if she knew where they planned to spend the night, and Romar spurred over to confer with his captain. Dusk was beginning to fall, so Kirra was not surprised when, about thirty minutes later, their course took them through a bustling market town and Tayse waved them all over to an inn on the outskirts.
It was always a long, laborious chore to determine where the armed escort would camp—since some of them, at least, needed to be close enough to the princess to defend her in case trouble arose, but no inn yard could accommodate all the soldiers in their party. Kirra, Senneth, and the royal women never bothered with these details. Followed by their own servants, they entered the inn, found accommodations reserved for them, and were ensconced in their rooms before any of the soldiers had been settled.
Kirra managed a quick bath and a change of clothes before there was a knock on her door. Senneth stood outside. “Hungry? Some of us are going down to the taproom for a late meal.”
>
She’d had dinner on the road, but riding always built an appetite. “Good. Let me tell Melly I’m leaving.”
The party that gathered downstairs in a few moments was weary but convivial. Romar, the four Riders, the princess, the queen, and the serramarra were joined by Donnal, Cammon, and Colton. Kirra liked the ratio of men to women. She always enjoyed masculine company and could not keep from flirting with anyone who responded, despite the fact that Casserah would not have. She sat between Justin and Cammon, arguing with them over stupid details, drawing Hammond and Colton into the discussion whenever they seemed to be paying attention. Senneth, Romar, Tayse, and Coeval were having a much weightier discussion at the other end of the table, while Donnal appeared to be telling stories to Valri and Amalie that were so humorous neither woman could stop laughing. That was unusual, Kirra thought. Donnal was only talkative around people he liked very much, and sometimes not even then.