Reynold crumpled the parchment and tossed it at the messenger. It bounced off the man’s face and rolled across the colorful floor. The bright tiles were supposed to keep the room cool. Much good it did when the very air in Kardesh burned his lungs. Add incompetence and not even the colors could help him keep his temper. His brother– Both of his brothers, were useless. He’d never paid much heed to Wyndham–Father’s afterthought and all that–but after Harcourt’s fiasco with Wintherford’s daughter, Wyndham seemed more determined to take up the family mantle of self-sacrifice. Which suited Reynold just fine. There would be opportunity plenty for that soon enough. But now idiot-brother number one had lost idiot-brother number two and was all in a tizzy about it.
What were the odds that the merchant barons would do anything about it? More importantly, what were the odds that Wyndham was out hunting for Kaelyn Wintherford, like Harcourt thought?
Reynold snorted at the ridiculous thought. If the rumors about his brother and Kaelyn Wintherford were true, then without a doubt he’d be searching for her. The real question was, how did he know that she wasn’t in Norwell?
Ancient Father above! Where was his Councilor when he needed him.
He shoved out of his chair and strode to the window. The sun sat high in the sky, a blazing sphere that made the air shimmer from the city’s rooftops. The streets were quiet. Only the slaves were out in the heat and only those of the lowest status. In an hour or two, the city would come alive again, canopies would be drawn to shade entranceways and wares, and the voices of hawkers would ring out. All in a sticky, itchy, dusty haze.
“Send word to Vitreah to prepare for my arrival.” He’d done what he’d been sent here for. The Princess Nabirye would be his–although not nearly as soon as he’d like–and all that remained was for the treaty to be negotiated. There were a few lords in his retinue who were eager to gain his favor. They could stay in this God-forgotten land and finish the deal.
His mother would never make him travel here again.
#
Mac huddled in his cloak and inched closer to the fire. They were twelve days from Carthway, half a day from the Oracle, and they couldn’t get there soon enough for his liking. He was freezing–and had been by the end of their first day of traveling. But, if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back in his adventure days. He was even in the presence of a clansman and a prince. Although in Gregor’s defense he hadn’t known he was going to be a prince at that time.
Someone said something and the group’s laughter was mixed with the bright sound of a woman’s mirth, breaking the illusion. A woman had never traveled with him in his youth, and now there were two. Of course if he really looked at their numbers there were also two clansmen, two nobles, and two soldiers. How very matched of them. Somehow, Kaelyn’s journey had developed a life of its own.
The evening before they’d left Carthway, Gerid’s friends arrived from Mythnar: the scholar, Jillyn, and the soldier, Aric, both so bundled in wool and fur all you could see of them were their eyes. All three had insisted on joining Kaelyn and seeing the Oracle. Mac supposed if you were going to travel to a foreign land you might as well see the sites–not that the Oracle held any kind of renown in Meriduin. It wasn’t even particularly famed among the clans.
He swallowed back his guilt. There were very few magical options among the two kingdoms. The Oracle was as good a chance as any for Kaelyn to restore her memory. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know where they could go. And yet, for someone so close to achieving her goal, she didn’t look at all happy.
His gaze drifted to the other side of the fire where she sat huddled between Gerid and Wyndham. The others were talking and laughing but she was sullen. She probably had a lot on her mind. And not just getting her memory back. Ever since he’d convinced her to enter the joust she’d been different.
It hadn’t been fair of him to tell her that they needed the money–as much as his pride really didn’t want him to ride on Wyndham’s good will. Mac had known she was skilled. He just hadn’t expected her to be as skilled as she was. Of course, he could have just looked at Bledig’s face to tell him that. But he hadn’t really believed that either, not until she was in the middle of the ring, each strike precise, calculated, imbued with just enough effort to win the fight with the least amount of strokes in the quickest amount of time. Maybe there was something more to this girl than he thought.
And maybe he was just getting caught up in the excitement like Bledig had.
An avatar of the Goddess. . . . Hunh. Not likely on any account.
Besides, she would go back to whoever she was once the magic blocking her memory was gone. Which would leave her with a whole new set of problems. One of them huddled beside her, betrothed to a clanswoman. Adelicia had been right. Bringing those two together was a disservice to them both. Perhaps when they returned to Mythnar he could convince her to change her mind. Sure there were politics involved that he didn’t know anything about, but maybe these two could be spared.
And maybe when she got her memory back it wouldn’t matter.
