Mac shuffled into his room, every muscle aching. Talar’s cot sat on the far side, a silent reminder of Mac’s true purpose in Mythnar. It had only taken a quick conversation with the magistrate, with Wyndham glowering in the doorway, to learn that someone by Kaelyn’s name and description did go north with the small Meriduinian delegation to Angwyn. Surely Talar had reached the keep by now. But they hadn’t received any word from him and snow was collecting in the White Pass. It was probably impassable already. Which didn’t mean Mac couldn’t get to Angwyn, he’d just have to take the long way around through Gentle Crossings and Carthway.
He tossed his tunic onto the nearby chair and immediately regretted the overhead arm movement. After days of secretly working himself back into fighting shape, he’d finally accepted Wyndham’s request for a lesson, and had been grateful when the Prince had insisted on a private audience. Still afraid he wouldn’t live up to his legend, Mac soon realized he had nothing to fear from Wyndham. The Prince wasn’t a passable swordsman, perhaps not even good enough to save his life if needed.
Throwing himself onto his bed, he groaned. It wasn’t the lesson that had made him so sore. About an hour into it, Gregor had stepped in. The man’s revenge for Mac teaching his son a handful of nasty, dishonorable–but life saving–maneuvers. He had challenged Mac to . . . how had Gregor put it? A jaunt around the sparing circle.
Mac probed a tender area along his ribs. Gregor obviously hadn’t spent the last ten years drunk. At least it didn’t hurt Gregor’s image in the eyes of his step-son. Of course, Mac was probably a complete disappointment.
Someone knocked on the door. Likely a courtier coming to fawn over him. He closed his eyes, hoping they’d go away.
The rap came again, louder and longer.
“Go away.”
The door opened.
“What about ‘go away’ don’t you understand?”
“I don’t think it’s in the royal vocabulary,” said Adelicia.
Mac leapt from the bed. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not now.
“I– Well–” He didn’t know where to look or if he should bow, or stand. Perhaps he should sit. It had been so long and she still made him stammer like a starry-eyed boy faced with the Goddess herself. Why could he never seem to talk to her? Or look into those eyes?
She flew to his side and wrapped him in an embrace. His insides burned with want and pain and grief and shame.
“I was so worried. Everyone said you were dead.” She leaned back and held him with her blue gaze.
His heart contracted. It felt so good to hold her and smell her lilac perfume on her hair and clothes. With all the excitement of escorting Kaelyn north, he hadn’t thought about her . . . about them. He wanted to draw her closer and yet flee at the same time.
He chose inactivity and stood there, his outside frozen while his insides sizzled.
“What have you been doing?”
Years of bitterness encroached on his lilac wrapped moment. “Nothing.”
She jerked away. “Nothing? What kind of answer is that?”
“The truth.” He cursed himself. She deserved sweet lies.
“I think I deserve more than a single word. It’s been years. We thought you’d gone north, back to the clan. But word arrived you were never there. Your seneschal, in Quinlay, said he hadn’t heard from you in years and assumed you were dead.”
“What did you do with the land?” Not that he cared.
She shrugged and glided to the chair where he’d thrown his shirt. Picking it up, she hung it on the back and sat.
“We didn’t do anything. We wanted confirmation of your death first before giving it away. Gregor turned governorship over to Wyndham so he could practice ruling.”
We. Her and Gregor. He swallowed back his old bitterness. “Did he run it into the ground?”
“Actually he turned out to be an excellent governor. It’s a shame he’s the last born.”
“I’m glad he’s good at something, because swordsmanship is not his thing.”
“And not yours any more either, so I’m told.”
Mac winced. That hurt more than any of Gregor’s strokes. Although not nearly as much as the reminder that she’d picked Gregor over him.
“I haven’t had much need to keep in practice.”
“Or in shape,” she said with a pointed glance at Mac’s bare midriff.
“So the family didn’t think it was enough to humiliate me in the sparring circle. They sent you here to keep going?” He rifled in his bag for a fresh shirt to cover his embarrassment.
“Oh, Mac. What happened?”
“I got old.” He yanked a shirt over his head. “We legends do that, you know.”
She smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her dress.
Mac perched on the edge of the bed and they stared at each other. To Mac she hadn’t aged at all. She was still tall, graceful, and proud. Her hair was still the color of summer wheat, even though most women her age would be graying. Her eyes were still a dark sapphire, strong and clear, and she still stopped his heart with her glance.
He shook his head, desperate to break the spell. They had made their choices and his had been to remain silent. “Why are you here?”
“Greg sent word as soon as you arrived. You know I had to come.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here.” She had traveled the kingdom to see him. Surely that meant something. But it only meant they were friends. Nothing more.
“I wish you’d settle down and move back to Quinlay.”
“Maybe. As soon as I finish this job.”
She stopped fidgeting with her dress and clasped her hands together, resting them in her lap. “Greg said you were looking for the Wintherford girl.”
Mac nodded.
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring her here.”
“Why? You think your son will shirk his duty.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
It seemed like no one in her family shirked their duty. “Really?”
“It’s the merchants. They want the union. If she comes here they’ll think there’s something between the two of them and put pressure on me to change the treaty.”
“And is there?”
“What?”
“Something between them?”
“He swears they’re just friends.”
Mac had heard that before. He’d told her that when she was married to her first husband. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t known how he felt.
“He agreed to the terms of the treaty,” said Adelicia, but she didn’t sound certain.
“But the clansmen have left and the negotiations won’t continue until the spring.” If the merchant barons were going to make any kind of move, this would be their time. He could see how the arrival of Wintherford’s daughter could make things difficult.
“The merchant barons think they have all winter to change my mind. They believe they’re about to lose a lot of power. But they’re not.”
“And will the crown lose power if the merchants aren’t supporting it?”
“The crown is the crown. With good and just rule, financial power is irrelevant.”
“Your late husband wouldn’t have agreed.”
She shrugged. “The people are happy. Even the wealthiest merchant barons invest in employment projects to help the poor.”
“But can you keep the barons at your side when you invite all of the north into your flock?”
“Probably not. The crown has primary control of all goods coming out of the north, but it’s not a monopoly. Merchants who can get past their prejudice will find conducting business with the north lucrative.”
“So it’s great for everyone but the poor kids getting married.” But that was the way it was for the crown, the way it had always been.
“Wyndham willingly agreed to the union, and the clans see it as a spiritual binding with their Goddess.”
“And you’re afraid he’ll change his mind if he sees Kaelyn.”
“I believe my son capable of making a difficult decision for his kingdom. And if this is difficult, I wish to ease whatever discomfort I can.” She stood and turned to leave, but stopped with one hand on the doorframe and looked back at him. She was the very image of her youth, the vision that Mac had devoted his life to.
“It’s good to have you back,” she said. “I hope you and my son decide to join Gregor and me for supper at court tonight.”
Guess she’d heard about all the time he and Wyndham were spending at the pub. He glimpsed her ‘as always, a bad influence on my children’ smile just before she left. He’d seen it so many times before. Usually when he and the heir apparent had come back from causing some kind of mischief on the town and they were sitting, hung-over, at the breakfast table.
“Perspective,” he said as he stood to shut the door. “I helped give her children a balanced look on life.”
“Too bad I missed out,” said Wyndham, easing into the room.
“You would have been more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Oh, I’m certain I’m even more trouble now.”
Mac caught the glint in his eye. Just like his older brothers.
“I’ve seen that look before, and the answer is no.”
“No you haven’t. I was too young to remember you the last time you saw me.”
“Mischief is hereditary. The last time your brother had that look we ended up burning down a merchant barons’ wine bar.”
“I heard about that.”
“Good. At least I don’t have to share that story again.”
“A satirist immortalized it in a song. I could sing it for you.”
“I hope you sing better than you fight.” Mac flopped down on his bed.
“Probably,” said Wyndham with a shrug. He sat on the chair Adelicia had vacated only moments ago and Mac was struck by the resemblance. Of all of her children, Mac had always been told Wyndham looked most like the Queen, but he’d never really paid any attention to the baby during his time at court. Now, the baby was all grown up, with his mother’s thin features. Those blue eyes stared at him from under golden brows, framed by hair a slightly darker shade than the Queen’s.
“We’ve received a message from Talar.”
“What’s the word?” Mac jerked upright.
“That the southerners have been charged with espionage and sent to Carthway to await trial.” Determination lit his eyes, and he appeared even more like his mother.
“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”
“We know, almost for certain, that this scribe’s assistant is Kaelyn. That means she’s charged with espionage.”
“Oh no. You are not going to Carthway. I’m going, you’re staying.”
Wyndham crossed his arms. “She’s in trouble.”
“I am not incurring the wrath of your parents.”
“You did for my brothers.”
“They were not an integral part of peace negotiations.” But he felt silly arguing against something he would have done without a second thought. Heck, something he was already planning on doing.
“One of them was just the heir apparent,” said Wyndham
“There were two replacements.”
Wyndham narrowed his eyes. “That’s a weak excuse.”
“It worked at the time. Listen, your mother asked me not to take you on any outings.”
“It doesn’t look like any taking is happening.”
“You’re staying here, safe.” And away from Kaelyn. “And I’m going to Carthway.”
“I’m no child.”
“Then don’t act like one.”
Wyndham opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. The silence, Mac was sure, lasted no more than a few heartbeats, but it felt like an eternity.
Wyndham drew a long breath. “She’s my friend, and she’s in trouble. What would you do?”
Mac sighed. What he always did. “Go after her.”
“Good.” Wyndham stood, as if that was permission for him to go. “There are horses and supplies ready in the stable. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” He rushed out the door and down the hall before Mac could protest.
“I’m missing dinner again.” He ran his hands over his head. “Adelicia is going to kill me.”
