Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (22 page)

“Oh, my father would
kill
me!”

“I rode with your father on the way to the Udalyn Valley. He's a wonderful man!”

“He is a lovely man, and he'd still kill me! This hair is a Tremel family heirloom, he tells me. ‘My father and his father's father went into battle with this red hair flowing in the sunlit breeze…’” It was a fair approximation of Teriyan's rough inn-talk, an imaginary ale clasped in one hand.

Sofy laughed delightedly. “You're
exactly
like Sasha described! What a delight…we're going to have some stories to—”

“Uh…girls?” Jaryd interrupted from the doorway. Both young women turned, each with a hand on the other's arm in midconversation. Women were astonishing sometimes, they could establish love or hate at first sight. “I hate to spoil something so beautiful as friendship, but I think I'm missing something here. When last I saw Princess Sofy she was about to agree to wed some horrible shit in the Bacosh…someone by the name of Arrosh, I recall, Regent Arrosh's first son and heir. There was this whole war thing depending on it, and the future of Lenayin or something. Now she's turned up here in Baerlyn in a storm, a long way from where she should be, with no apparent guard or escort. What am I missing?”

Sofy blinked at him, then looked at Lynette. “Is he always this sarcastic?”

“Oh sarcasm is an improvement,” Lynette returned drily. “Usually he just snarls, or communicates in animal grunts.”

Lynette refused to let Sofy tell her tale until she'd had some food. Sofy ate ravenously, sitting before the fireplace, her clothes only a little damp thanks to the heavy cloak she'd worn. Jaryd and Lynette ate too, as the fire leaped and snarled.

Sofy, Jaryd noted, looked different from the way he remembered her. How was that possible, when it had only been a month and a half? She wore different pants and jacket than she had on the ride to the Udalyn Valley. Those had been hurriedly borrowed from the spare clothes of men in the column, clothes intended for younger brothers or cousins. These were tailored, the pants a thick, soft cloth with a leather belt and a light black leather jacket with designs and filigree stitching weaving down its front. She even had a lowlands-style hair clasp to hold her ponytail, although it was carved with Lenay craftsmanship.

Lynette noticed too. “Where do I get a jacket like that?” she said enviously between mouthfuls.

“It is rather nice, isn't it?” Sofy balanced her plate on her lap and moved to the edge of her chair, offering Lynette a feel of the leather. “I've been riding quite a bit since I returned to Baen-Tar, and I found that dear Sasha was right after all—it's just impossible in dresses. But of course there are no riding clothes for women. No women ride save for you and Sasha. I had these made especially, so that I had something nice to wear while riding.”

“And what's made you so interested in riding?” Lynette pressed, clearly fascinated.

Jaryd could tell what she was thinking; another woman in Lenayin who rides! And not just any woman, but Princess Sofy!

“Well, I became very attached to my little horse, Dary,” said Sofy with a private smile at Jaryd. Jaryd remembered Dary well, he'd been tasked with protecting the horse and his royal rider for much of the journey north, being capable of little else with his broken arm. “I went to see him in the stables every day, and of course he needed exercise, so I would ask stablehands if they could take him riding…but it was so sad not to be riding him myself. And after a few days back in Baen-Tar, facing the grim displeasure of the world in general,” and here her tone took on a sombre maturity, but only for a moment, “I began to miss the open fields and the wind in my face. There's nothing more amazing than trying something entirely new that you never thought you'd be good at or interested in, and discovering that you're both.”

“And the king let you ride?”

“The king,” Sofy said primly, the sobriety returning, “is not the problem. Koenyg is the problem. Koenyg blames me for the rebellion, in part. After a few animated discussions, I grew tired of arguing with him and sought
refuge elsewhere.” She took another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully, then washed it down with some wine. Jaryd might have blinked at that, too. Before the ride north, Sofy had never drunk wine in her life. “He forbad me from riding when he heard of the preparations I made with the tailors. He said it would be a disgrace to the crown and a reminder to all Lenayin of the rebellion and my part in it.”

“And what did you do?” Lynette asked breathlessly.

Sofy shrugged, but gave a faint smile. “I ignored him. I truly don't know why I hadn't thought of it sooner.”

“Did that work?”

“Oh, wonderfully!” Sofy said with enthusiasm. “I mean, what can he do? If I'm unhappy or upset about something, it doesn't take very long for the staff, servants, stablehands and all to be spreading rumours throughout Baen-Tar, and those rumours spread to the cityfolk who then carry it all over Lenayin. I told Koenyg that the only way he could stop me from riding was to lock me in my chambers. I mean, I'm about to be wed to the heir of Regent Arrosh—” with a meaningful glance at Jaryd, “and the future of Lenayin depends on it…” She raised her eyebrows as Jaryd smiled faintly, “and the heir to the throne and the princess in question are having a blazing row, and now he's gone and locked her in her chambers with armed guards to restrain her from doing or saying anything she shouldn't…I mean, can you imagine? It would look terrible, just as he's trying to recover people's faith after a rebellion, too. He dare not lay a hand on me, and he knows it.

“So we compromised. I would ride when and where I pleased, and he would give me a Royal Guard escort to ensure my safety. And, wouldn't you know it, it worked wonderfully. People were actually pleased to see me…I mean, they don't get to see princesses very often, we're always holed up in the palace. So I would ride through the fields and farmers would wave, and their children would chase me, and then I'd ride through Baen-Tar town and people would actually come out and cheer. I began stopping to talk with them sometimes, and that went down very well…some had complaints or petitions, but others were just pleased to talk. Recently I went out to Mesheldyn to see the new temple they're building on the king's coin, and I found the temple looked grand, but the irrigation channels from the river were falling apart and farmers were complaining their water was low and crops were dying, so I told Damon about it and he's seeing it fixed.

“So Koenyg doesn't bother me about the riding any more, I'm sure his spies tell him the people like it and it seems to be helping them forget the rebellion, not remind them of it. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried it himself, just riding out and meeting people. Gods know it would do him some good.”

It was the same Sofy Lenayin, Jaryd decided, she'd just grown up a bit. She could still talk endlessly without prompting, and her eyes and voice would sparkle at every point of fascination, which with Sofy meant several times a sentence. And yet, it seemed there was something different about her manner, even if her character remained unchanged.

“Good spirits,” Lynette exclaimed, her eyes wide, “you're probably the only person in Lenayin who'd dare defy Prince Koenyg!”

“Someone has to,” Sofy said cheerfully. “And he's not so scary really. Lenay people just have this way of building everyone into a legend, good or bad. Koenyg's just Koenyg and, however annoying, he's still my brother.”

Doubt, Jaryd realised. Sofy's character was the same as he recalled, but she was missing something, and that something was doubt. The girl he remembered from the ride north had been quiet and uncertain, her eyes darting, worried that she was making an inconvenience of herself simply by being there…which she was. But that girl had also ridden in a rebellion, slept on hard ground, shared meals with warriors, cared for her horse, minded a pair of headstrong Udalyn children, learned as much as she could of a forbidden language, and tended the grievously wounded upon the field of battle. She'd also risked death, defied her father, drunk wine and had even got her hands dirty in a Udalyn garden. Such experiences might change a girl, even a princess. They had certainly changed some men.

“Highness,” said Jaryd, drawing her attention. She met his gaze, then lowered her eyes for the briefest moment. The same, uncertain flicker. Then back again, with firmer resolve as princessly dignity reasserted itself. It disappointed him that she should fall back on form with him of all people. “Why are you here? Koenyg would never have let you ride here without guard. In fact, I can't imagine him allowing you to ride here at all.”

Her eyes darted away again, and he knew he'd hit the peg on the head. “I'm tired of doing everything he tells me,” she said churlishly, suddenly an eighteen-year-old again. “To say nothing of father. I've hardly
seen
father since the Udalyn ride. Some of us thought maybe he would assert himself more, but no, he's retreated into the temple and Koenyg seems to handle even more affairs now than he did before. I know I'm not the only one unhappy about it.”

Jaryd had often been accused of not being very bright in lordly politics, he'd hated all that pointless, puffing sophistry, and hadn't understood why people couldn't just talk straight to each other. But he thought, just maybe, he could see where this was heading.

“Did you discover something?” he asked. “Something about me?” Sofy met his gaze, sombrely, chewing slowly. “Sofy, what are they up to?”

Sofy swallowed and sipped her wine. She took a second, larger gulp, and
stared into the fire. “Jaryd,” she said then, “I hear lots of things. It was always just fun before. People like me, and I've always loved gossip, I can't help it. Only recently have I started to realise what power it gives me…and how worrying that power is for someone like Koenyg. He's been worried about my love of gossip for years, when I thought it was all just a game…” she shook her head in disbelief. “Seriously, I can't believe I've been such a naive little girl.

“There was a lot of talk after your father died.” She met his gaze firmly once more. “They need Tyree, Jaryd. The lords. The rebellion was strongest in Taneryn, Valhanan and Tyree…and Tyree is central, wealthy and close to Baen-Tar.”

“And most of Lenayin's bread is made there, I know,” said Jaryd impatiently. Maybe Sofy thought he was stupid too. “I didn't spend my
whole
life as Great Lord-in-Waiting ignoring everything important about my own province, I do know a few things.”

“I didn't mean—”

“What are they up to, Sofy? Just tell me straight.” He said it hard and blunt. Sofy looked somewhat crestfallen at his response. Perhaps she truly hadn't meant it like that. Jaryd told himself firmly that he didn't care, even as his heart told him he did.

“Well,” she said, gathering herself, “there's a big debate amongst the Tyree lords. Some say Family Nyvar's removal was poorly done, because it's set a precedent. Many are quite upset, and not just in Tyree either. They're all suddenly watching their backs and double-checking their alliances, just to be certain their own family is not the next one dissolved by ancient clan-law.

“That debate is making Arastyn nervous. I hear he means you dead, Jaryd.” Her gaze was concerned. “I've heard rumours of hired assassins and all kinds of things. The longer you remain alive, the more you fuel the debate and ensure no one forgets what's been done.”

Jaryd smiled, humourlessly. “You're a day late.”

Sofy frowned at him, uncomprehending.

“Three men dressed as Torovan merchants tried to shoot Jaryd with a crossbow at a wedding yesterday,” Lynette explained. Sofy's hand went to her mouth. “Jaryd killed one and captured another, but the third got away. Men are searching for him now.”

“So if you rode all this way to warn me that the new Great Lord of Tyree was trying to kill me,” said Jaryd, “I thank you for the concern, but I'm already aware.” Sofy took another breath, and did not reply immediately.

“That's not the only reason you rode, is it? Tell me.”

“Your brother Wyndal,” Sofy said bluntly, looking him straight in the eyes. “Arastyn means to have him killed too.”

S
ASHA AWOKE AT DAWN
, hearing guards out in the hall and men talking outside beneath the window. Still she was exhausted, and knew she'd had hardly any sleep.

“Sleep,” Errollyn murmured alongside. “The house is quiet. There is no hostility here.” He sounded so certain. He had no reason to trust Duke Rochel, nor her relationship with him, and yet he lay on his back, eyes closed, seeming to know that she was awake without looking.

How do you know? she wanted to ask. Who are you? And why do I feel so safe, with you lying at my side?

Sasha awoke again to find the day bright and sunny beyond the window shutters. The bed beside her was empty. Furthermore, her robe was open, and she was naked beneath. No doubt Errollyn had had an eyeful. The thought did not displease her.

She crawled over and peered through the strange shutters—thin wooden slats that opened and closed when one pulled on a string. She'd never seen their like before. Beyond, the broad gardens of Pazira House glowed in brilliant, multiple shades of green and the lake reflected sun and blue sky.