“The Cokyrians withdrew early this morning,” he explained, casting me an odd glance. “I thought you might have heard.”
I shook my head, then smiled, at last understanding the reason for both Steldor’s high spirits and his lack of concern pertaining to my activities. Could it be that the enemy had decided to leave us in peace? Had they relinquished the search for Narian? Surely we would have known if he were in their custody. A fresh surge of hope lightened my steps as we returned to the house, where Lania came into the large entryway to greet me—and to frown at Baelic in annoyance.
“You smell like a horse.”
“Actually, I smell like several of them,” he replied, grinning.
With a sigh, she bade him clean up, fondly watching his retreating back as he jogged up the open staircase that marked the separation between the entry and the great room that lay beyond. She then motioned me to the left, down the corridor, and I knew by the tantalizing aromas that filled the air that the kitchen would be found in this wing.
Stopping at the first room, she ushered me through rich, double cherry doors and into a light and airy parlor that provided a view of the front courtyard of the manor house. I glanced at the tapestries decorating the walls and was amused to see they were of horses, some in pastures, some undergoing training, some carrying cavalry soldiers into battle. I took a seat upon a sofa by one of the windows, while Lania chose an armchair, and in a few moments a servant girl brought us rose tea. We sipped and chatted while waiting for Baelic to reappear, and I warmed to her quickly, insisting that she call me by name rather than addressing me formally as Your Highness.
A servant appeared to announce dinner when Baelic had joined us, and Lania instructed her to gather the children from another part of the home. It did not take long for Shaselle, Tulara, Lesette, Ganya and Celdrid, the youngest child at ten and the only son, to come through the dining room door. The eldest daughter, Dahnath, was absent.
“She’s dining with Lord Drael,” Lania explained, when she noticed my eyes upon the empty chair.
“Yes,” said Celdrid, hopping onto his seat while his sisters more properly took theirs. “She thinks he’s terribly handsome.”
He shared a furtive glance with Lesette and Ganya, the siblings closest to his age, and the girls giggled. I smiled as well, for he seemed identical to Baelic in both looks and behavior.
“Hush, you two,” admonished Tulara, who was more proper in manner than Shaselle. “Lord Drael is rich and respectable, and you girls should be lucky to marry a man like him someday.”
“And you should be lucky to marry at all,” Shaselle muttered, with a grin for her brother.
Tulara appeared quite indignant, but at Lania’s stern glower, she shrank back in her chair and adopted a more ladylike demeanor.
As the dinner progressed, I was filled not only with delicious food, but with the warmth generated by such a happy family. I considered the deep-seated connection between Baelic and Lania. Would Steldor and I ever experience such closeness? I thought it highly unlikely; I thought it even less likely that I would ever want to bear a child by him, despite the necessity of producing an heir.
When I left for home, I thanked Lania and Baelic profusely, only to be mystified one more time by my uncle, who extended a wrapped parcel to me.
“I think you’ll find this useful,” he said, with a wink for me and a shrug for his puzzled wife.
I accepted the package, then rode back to the palace, quite satisfied with my outing. I walked leisurely up the stone path that cut the courtyard in half, continuing through the front doors, almost colliding with London, who was about to depart. He was dressed in his typical fashion, brown leather jerkin with twin long knives at his sides, but this time he also carried a bow and a quiver of arrows.
“Off again, are you?” I teased, noting the pack slung over his shoulder. “Why is it we can’t keep a good man in place?”
“I just can’t resist the mountains,” he responded, running his hand through his unruly silver hair, but despite the lightness of his response, I knew something was wrong.
“To Cokyri?” The tease had slipped from my voice as easily as butter from a hot knife. “What’s happened?”
“The Cokyrians withdrew from the river this morning.”
“But isn’t that a good—” The truth came crashing down, making it difficult to breathe. “It’s Narian. They’ve found him.”
“That’s what I intend to determine,” London offered, concern in his indigo eyes. “At any rate, Cokyri’s withdrawal tells us they know he’s no longer in Hytanica, despite the measures we’ve taken to keep that detail hidden. If they don’t already have him, they’ll engage in an all-out search.” London shifted his weight in the manner of a horse that wants to run. “I must go, Alera. You know as well as anyone the consequences that will result if Narian is back in the hands of the Overlord. If he is indeed in Cokyri, we’ll need all possible time to make ready.”
I nodded, my spirits sinking, but I stopped him once more before he could cross the threshold into the Central Courtyard.
“You will return, won’t you?”
“Hytanica depends on it,” he said, his eyes resolute. “So, yes, I will.”
CHAPTER 8
UNCLE KNOWS BEST
AFTER LONDON HAD DEPARTED THE PALACE for Cokyri, I climbed the Grand Staircase to return to the rooms I shared with Steldor, quite shaken and expecting to be alone. Oddly, I found my husband reclining on the sofa with a book. He looked up as I entered, wearing the impudent smirk I had come to detest.
“Alera, at last you join me,” he said, pushing himself upright and dropping the book on the sofa table. “I finally make it to dinner, only to discover that you have not. Can I assume, then, that you enjoyed your day in the city?”
“Yes, I did.”
I tried to sound casual, though I was quite flustered by his presence. After weeks of spending nights outside our quarters, why now was he here?
“Shall I request some food for you, or have you eaten?”
“I have already dined, but thank you for asking,” I cautiously replied.
“I see.”
I moved toward my bedroom, intending to escape the situation, but Steldor’s voice brought me to a halt.
“And who received the pleasure of your company?”
Uncertain how he would react to the knowledge that I’d spent the evening with his uncle, I hedged my answer, attempting to change the subject.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details of my social outings. But tell me, what is so special about today that you are able to be home?”
“What I find interesting,” Steldor replied, bemused, “isn’t that you neglect to share the details of your life with me, but that you actually believe you can conceal them.”
Unable to meet his gaze, I waited to learn in what direction he would take this conversation.
“Given the nature of some of your secrets that have of late come to light, that disturbs me. So, darling, are you going to tell me how you spent your afternoon?”
Belittled but indignant, I raised my eyes to his and shook my head, and he answered with a condescending laugh.
“No matter. I can find out what I want to know in other ways—perhaps from your carriage driver?”
He studied me, smug beyond belief, and I hated his uncanny ability to always have the last word.
“To answer your earlier question,” he drawled, “Cokyri retreated today, giving us a brief reprieve. I thought I would take advantage of it and enjoy some time with my wife. Come and sit with me.”
“Allow me a moment to freshen up, my lord,” I said, then immediately stepped into my bedroom, wanting to place the package Baelic had given me far from Steldor’s prying eyes.
I returned to the parlor a few minutes later, less apprehensive than usual at the thought of being near my husband, as the things Baelic had told me had given me more faith in him. Still, I was not comfortable with the idea that he might
try to be intimate, so I chose to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from him. He clearly found this amusing but said nothing, picking up his book from the table and placing it in my hands.
“I would like you to read to me,” he said, seeming tired, and it occurred to me that being King might be taking a toll on him. Hytanica did not usually crown its kings until they were at least in their late twenties, so Steldor was exceptionally young to be shouldering the mantle; in fact, he was actually the youngest king ever to take the throne.
I glanced at the book, hoping it would not be about weapons or battle strategy, to discover that it was a history of the royal family, of my family. I opened it, and he again lay back on the sofa, swiveling his body to rest his head in my lap with his eyes closed. While I read, I glanced down at his handsome features, his dark hair falling away from his temples, giving even more definition to his prominent cheekbones. His expression was so peaceful that I felt a desire to touch his hair and face, but I refrained, knowing such a gesture was sure to be misinterpreted.
I read for about fifteen minutes and then stopped, certain he had fallen asleep, but he opened his eyes and sat up. He contemplated me single-mindedly, and the tenderness I had felt toward him was suffused by anxiety, for he was far too close to me.
He reached out and turned my body toward his, gazing into my eyes, then he ran the fingers of one hand along my jaw line. Sliding the same hand under my hair and behind my neck, he leaned toward me and kissed me softly, gently, sweetly, and I felt myself responding. He pulled back to examine my face, playing with a strand of my hair.
“You are driving me mad, Alera,” he said huskily. “Your voice, your scent, the way you look, the way you move…I want more than anything to truly be your husband, for you to truly be my wife.”
He leaned toward me again and brushed his lips across mine, then gently kissed my neck and the hollow of my throat, sweeping my hair behind my shoulders as he did so.
“Steldor, I’m not ready,” I whispered, for some reason finding it difficult to speak.
“I would be gentle,” he promised, lips continuing their exploration.
“Please, no,” I said, forcing the words from my tightened throat, and he reluctantly pulled away. “Not yet. I’m sorry.”
His air of first frustration, then dejection, tugged at me, but before I could speak further, he sighed and stood.
“I’m going out for a while. Don’t feel you have to wait up for me.”
I nodded, not knowing how else to respond. He paused in the doorway on his way out, hand upon the frame, and glanced back at me.
“Just consider the possibility that you might enjoy my touch,” he said, almost lightly, but he could not conceal the ache underlying his words.
An inexplicable feeling of sadness and unease settled upon me as he departed. Where might he be going, and, more important, to whom?
Though the weather changed as spring merged into summer, becoming more hot and humid, there was little change in my relationship with my husband. To my dismay, he continued to leave most evenings, staying out late, and with every passing day, I grew more troubled about the nature of his activities. Needing to know whether I had anything to fear, I considered a different approach to obtaining an answer to my question. If Steldor would not talk with me about where he went, then I would have to ask someone else, and it wasn’t hard to identify the person to whom I should turn. Galen, I was sure, knew everything there was to know about Steldor.
After eating an early lunch in the tea room the next day, I returned to the Queen’s Drawing Room, sending word to Galen that I wished to meet with him at his earliest convenience. I tried to devote my attention to various household matters while I awaited his arrival, but my ability to concentrate was not what it should have been. Doubts about Steldor and growing concern about London and Narian kept pushing into my thoughts. It was late afternoon when at last the Sergeant at Arms appeared in the doorway.
“You wished to speak with me, Your Highness?”
I nodded and motioned toward a chair adjacent to the sofa upon which I was seated. Although I had a burning desire for an answer to my question, I also felt awkward raising the subject, and so made a clumsy attempt at small talk as he joined me.
“How are things between you and Tiersia these days?”
“Very well,” he said with a warm smile. “But I doubt you asked me here to talk about my betrothed.”
“That was not my primary reason. Congratulations, though. I did not know your relationship had progressed to that point.”
“Thank you,” he said, studying me. “Judging by the color in your cheeks, I would guess this has something to do with your husband. Why don’t you tell me what is really on your mind?”
“Very well.” I took a deep breath, abandoning my pride, and plunged ahead. “Steldor leaves our quarters late in the evenings several times a week, but he will not tell me where he goes or whom he sees. Since you are his best friend, I thought perhaps you could enlighten me.”
Galen surprised me by laughing. “If I may ask, what has Steldor told you about the nature of his activities?”
“As I said, very little. It is the fact that he is not forthcoming that has me worried.”
“And what do you worry he may be doing?”
Again the heat rose in my face, and I cast my eyes about the room, half hoping a Cokyrian would come bursting through the bay window behind me just to put an end to this embarrassing conversation.
“I can’t help but wonder if he is spending time with another woman,” I confessed.
Again Galen chuckled. “Is that what he has led you to believe?”
“He has not said so directly,” I responded, clasping my hands in my lap. “But he evades my questions when I raise the matter with him.”
Galen grew serious, and I knew his answer would be honest.
“Well, you need not worry. Steldor spends his time with me or others from the Military Complex. We play cards or dice and, of course, drink some ale. We most often meet at the base, although he and I sometimes play chess in his study.”
Tremendous relief washed over me, and I nodded gratefully.
“My lady,” Galen teased, “you are married to a man who is content to have you think him a rake, but believe me, he is not. He is in love with one woman to whom few can compare and has lost interest in all others. I have never seen a man so smitten.”
My heart lightened and so did my mood. “I think Tiersia had better not let you slip away, as I fear for your safety should other women discover your charm.”
“Never fear,” he said, his brown eyes sparkling. “That’s a very well-kept secret. Now pray excuse me, for duty calls—or at least the captain does.”
“Yes, of course, but thank you, both for coming and for your willingness to answer my questions.”
“Glad to be of assistance.” He stood and swept me a generous bow, then disappeared into the corridor.
That evening, as I walked into the family dining room, I saw that the usually empty seat beside mine was occupied by my husband. His presence caught me off guard, but I nevertheless dined with a cheerful disposition, for Galen had lifted a great worry from my shoulders. This was also the first time in a while that I enjoyed a meal with my entire family: my parents, my sister and my husband. Though my father was still aloof with me, his good-natured attitude was steadily reappearing. Provided I kept at bay the nagging dread of the news London might bring, I found I could actually enjoy myself.
When the meal ended, Miranna skipped out the side door closest to her quarters, while my parents, Steldor and I took the opposite exit. After bidding farewell to my mother and father, who climbed the spiral staircase to reach their rooms on the third floor, I turned toward the King’s and Queen’s quarters. Steldor, however, started down the hall toward the Grand Staircase.
“Where are you going?” I inquired, emboldened by the information Galen had shared.
“I have a commitment,” he replied, flickin
g a hand glibly in my general direction, intent on causing me strife.
“I thought you were able to join us for dinner because of a lack of commitments.”
He stopped and faced me. “Very well. If you must know, I go to seek relaxation elsewhere.”
He raised an eyebrow pointedly, and I could no longer permit him to play this game.
“Oh, stop,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I know you’re only going off with Galen. It’s no wonder your father calls you Hell-dor.”
He stared at me for a moment with furrowed brow, trying to gauge what I truly knew.
“My father doesn’t call me that,” he asserted, unable to deny my first statement.
“Oh? Doesn’t he?” I was trying desperately not to laugh. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
Steldor scrutinized me, and I could tell his confidence in his statement was fading. I smiled sweetly, barely resisting the urge to bat my eyelashes, then cackled with triumph when he spun on his heel and stalked away. I’d gotten the better of him at last.
A few days later, at midmorning on the day Baelic and I had appointed, I donned the breeches my uncle had provided, for such had been the contents of the parcel he had placed in my hands at the end of my last visit. After layering a skirt on top, I pulled my hair back into a bun, then departed to walk to the front gate to await Baelic’s arrival. I didn’t want to be seen with him in the palace by Steldor or Cannan, certain they would not approve of my intended activity.
Baelic arrived in a carriage, to the back of which were tied two saddled horses: Briar, the beautiful dark bay mare; and the petite sorrel mare that I knew to be Shaselle’s. Celdrid rode on a gelding as dark as Briar and held Alcander, the golden gelding meant for me, on a lead line, likewise saddled and ready for use.
I climbed into the coach to join Shaselle, who was boldly wearing breeches that were not hidden by a skirt. It did not take long to fall into easy conversation, for like her mother, she proved to be most engaging. I asked where we were going and received an unexpected answer.