Storm Surge (18 page)

Lady Delrose’s eyes widened. “But you said a kingmaker’s bite is lethal.”

“The venom is a rather effective antidote against most things, if you can survive it. Most don’t. That’s what ultimately saved Kalen’s life. While I worried of encountering kingmakers, I never thought an adult would hunt down those who stole from their nests.” Breton shivered. He’d come perilously close to losing his life. The kingmaker, however, hadn’t given him anything more than a passing glance. “You can thank Lord Delrose later for subjecting him to so many poisons. He’s been bitten by just about everything in the Rift, living to talk about it later.” Breton’s laugh was strained. “It pains me to even acknowledge that their plan worked. It’s extremely difficult to do any lasting harm to him due to poisons.”

“Thank you, Guardian. Because of you, he’s come back to us.”

Breton sighed again. “He won’t stay here, Lady Delrose. He might have been born in Kelsh, but he belongs in the Rift. That’s his home now.”

“I know. He often looks west. He’s always cold and miserable. It hurts me, but you’re right. Kelsh is not his home. We ruined that for him, didn’t we?”

After considering the woman’s words, he nodded. “He doesn’t like being here. It would not surprise me to find him racing back for trails as soon as he feels like he’s done his duty.”

“He doesn’t like his father at all,” she said in a small voice.

Breton rose, dusting his legs off. “That is between them. If Lord Delrose is wise and smart, he might earn Kalen’s respect. In the Rift, a man can have many fathers. I would ask that you remember this much: a ceaseless wind can turn stone to dust given time. It can stir embers into conflagrations, and it can even change a river’s flow. That is the sort of man who rules the Rift. I often wonder if the kingdoms know what sort of gift they were given due to a misguided man obeying the twisted orders of a mad king. It is late. Tomorrow at sunrise, you can tell me of this mad king’s daughter, and the risks she brings to my foal.”

Lifting her chin, Lady Delrose stood, and in the lantern light, her stony eyes glittered. “It would be my pride and honor, Guardian.”

With a faint smile, he dipped into a shallow bow. “You, Lady Delrose, may call me Breton, if it pleases you.”

“And you, Breton, may call me Erissa, if it pleases you. I will see you at dawn.”

~~*~~

At dawn, an amused Mithrian woke Breton. No amount of rubbing at his eyes dispelled the lethargy weighing him down. He was stifling a yawn when a bright-eyed, cheerful Lady Delrose met him outside of his tent.

“Good morning, Breton.”

“Horses,” he mumbled, heading in the direction of the pickets. Grooming his geldings would wake him up while he listened to Lady Delrose.

“You should sleep more,” Kalen’s dam chided.

It was easier to agree than argue with her about it, so he nodded. “What can you tell me about the princess?”

“She’s sheltered without any idea of how the world really works. She’s a Knight in name only, as her father refused to allow her to be properly trained. Her Yadesh isn’t much better.” Lady Delrose wrinkled her nose as she hugged herself. “It’s not a good situation. Should she take Kelsh’s throne, she’ll be destroyed by the power-hungry nobles on the council. She has no idea how to stand up for herself. The Danarites won’t even need to lift a hand; she’ll ruin us from her lack of experience. She wasn’t always like this. She changed after…”

“After Kalen left?” Breton asked, careful to keep his voice low and his tone gentle.

“After he left,” she agreed, her expression despondent. “After a few years, the king started trying to give Princess Tala away in marriage. He’s groomed her to be some king’s decorative wife, not a queen worthy of the Rift.”

“We’re aware. It’s been a source of irritation for all of us over the years. Kelsh’s king has been quite persistent in that regard, despite the Rift’s refusals.”

At the pickets, Ceres was already at work grooming the horses. Ceres took one look at him and his companion and gawked, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Breton chuckled, waving Kalen’s foal over. “Erissa, this is Ceres.”

“We’ve met,” Lady Delrose murmured, though she inspected the younger Guardian head to toe. “You’re older than Satoren.”

When Ceres hesitated, Breton grinned and said, “Not by much.”

“You’re one of his sons.” Lady Delrose circled Ceres, reminding Breton of a serpent deciding how best to devour her prey.

“I am, Lady Delrose,” Kalen’s foal replied, standing taller.

Armed with a curry comb, Breton went to work on Perin’s coat, watching the two in silence. None of the Guardians, himself included, had spent too much time actually talking with the Delrose herd. Lord Delrose’s volatile temper and the Guardians’ general disapproval of the man’s handling of a much younger Kalen had kept them separate.

After considering Ceres’s interest and Lady Delrose’s curiosity, Breton wondered if he had made a mistake in not encouraging the Guardians to mingle rather than watch from a distance.

Lady Delrose stared into the forest, her eyes as dark as her expression. “Princess Tala has no confidence. She has no belief in herself. She does as she is ordered. She has no inclination to think about what she’s doing or why. She does as told.” Whirling around, Lady Delrose stooped and snatched up one of the curry combs. “Which one can I groom?”

“Try Honey first,” Breton suggested. “She’s usually more open to someone other than Kalen handling her.”

Lady Delrose nodded, and after letting the golden chestnut sniff her, the Kelshite woman went to work. “According to my husband, Her Highness’s Rifter is pretty bad; she speaks Kelshite and Trader. I don’t know what her father has been teaching her, but it
hasn’t
been how to rule.”

Breton considered the woman’s words, busying himself by brushing Perin. His gelding lipped at his sleeve, both of his delicate ears pricked forward. “That will not settle well with His Majesty.”

“He’s short tempered enough. It might be wise to make certain they don’t meet,” Ceres said, his tone worried. “If she were one of ours, he’d be livid.”

Lady Delrose straightened, pausing in her grooming of Honey. “What do you mean by that?”

Both wary and intrigued by the woman’s cold tone, Breton draped his arms over Perin’s back and watched Kalen’s foal. Ceres lifted his chin and met Lady Delrose’s gaze steadily. “I mean that there is no place for anyone who can’t handle themselves in the Rift. It’s a death sentence, Lady Delrose. Father knows it, and he makes it his responsibility to ensure as many of us survive as possible. It’s one thing to have a shy, quiet personality: he appreciates quiet people; they don’t bother him. But it’s another thing to endanger others. We live and die by the weakest in the herd. All it takes is one serpent bite to kill someone.”

“So I’ve been told,” Kalen’s dam replied, her eyes narrowing. “You make it sound like he is a cruel person.”

Ceres kept brushing his horse and didn’t answer.

All Breton could do was hope that the truth wouldn’t hurt the Kelshite woman too much. Sighing, he nodded. “That’s because he can be, Erissa. He often is. He has to be. The duties of a Rift King are not easy or kind. He lives by the sword, or he dies by it. We of the Rift live or die by our ability to adapt. On the best days, it is difficult to feed everyone. We rely on our horses, but we never butcher one because we’re
hungry.
They’re either old and already dying or injured. If there’s been a Scouring, there is a high chance of losing many of our foraging grounds. We work together, or we all die. That’s the way of the Rift. He can’t afford to be kind, not to anyone. If he sits idle and doesn’t enforce the Code, even more people die. Yes, he can be quite cruel. It’s necessary.”

Lady Delrose paled, and with a sigh, her slim figure sagged. “I see.”

“Father hates it.” Ceres’s ducked his head. “He has to be cruel, but it’s necessary.”

“So he won’t get along with Kelsh’s princess, will he?” Lady Delrose turned her attention back to Kalen’s mare. “Good. Maybe he can talk sense into her.”

“This isn’t going to end well,” Breton muttered. While Lady Delrose didn’t seem to hear him, Ceres stared at him with wide eyes.

~~*~~

Breton left Lady Delrose under Ceres’s guard. While he appreciated not having to march, he worried that they hadn’t gotten far enough away from the swarm. He stood at the edge of the camp, watching for any sign that the skreed had followed them. While a smoky haze marked where Morinvale had once been, all was quiet and still.

Someone cleared her throat behind him. Breton considered ignoring the person, but he sighed and turned around.

A blond-haired woman dressed in a golden tunic and breeches stood beside a Yadesh. Unlike Satrin, the animal didn’t share many resemblances to a horse, with the exception of its nose. Compared to Rift horses, the creature looked fragile, with too thin legs and narrow build. “Are you Breton?”

When trouble came calling his name, Breton preferred avoiding it. Both the woman and the Yadesh watched him expectantly. “I’m Breton. What do you need?”

Taking several jerky steps forward, she thrust out her hand. Breton swallowed back his desire to sigh at the Kelshite custom, he clasped her hand, letting it go as soon as he touched her.

“I’m Tala. Sil—ah, Captain Silvereye said you could teach me Mithrian.”

“I can teach you the basics, but I’m not fluent in the language. I know enough to get by. I do know a few who can teach you, however.” Breton straightened, aware of the Yadesh’s scrutiny.

“The basics should be fine,” she replied, shrugging.

One of the Yadesh’s ears flicked back, and the animal sighed. Tala reached over and patted its golden shoulder. At the woman’s touch, the Yadesh’s second ear swiveled back.

“Are you really a Rifter?”

The blurted question caught Breton by surprise. Frowning, he turned his attention from the Yadesh to Kelsh’s princess. “Are you really a Kelshite?”

A faint blush washed over the woman’s cheeks. “Of course I am a Kelshite. What else would I be?”

Breton kept his expression as neutral as his voice, wondering if his mocking of her would go unnoticed. “Of course I am a Rifter. What else would I be?”

The Yadesh’s ears snapped forward. Breton got the feeling the doe wanted to say something, but remained silent.

“But you’re not in the Rift where you belong.” The words were delivered in a clipped, annoyed tone, and the woman’s chin rose, as though she wanted to stare down her nose at him, but couldn’t due to his height. “You must be the one I’m supposed to deliver a message to.”

Breton clasped his hands behind his back so she wouldn’t see him drum his fingers as he fought to keep patient with the woman. “What message?”

“It’s stupid, so I’m not sure why I’m bothering, but he told me to inform you that if you touched his boots again, he would beat you senseless with them.”

“You saw my foal before coming here.” While he’d already known because Honey had been with her and led them to Ferethian, the confirmation pleased him—as did the threat. Would the despondent Kalen that Maiten had described be willing to say such things? Breton doubted it.

“The mare belonged—”

“I was speaking of the man, not the horse,” he interrupted, shaking his head.

Confusion furrowed the woman’s brow. “He’s a foal?”

He considered whether or not to explain the concept to her, but decided against it. If Lady Delrose’s complaints were sincere, he’d be wasting his breath. “Was he well?”

Tala scowled as though she was being forced to swallow something sour. “Well enough.”

All of his frustration surged up, and he couldn’t rein it in. “If he left his horse with you because he was unfit to ride, he was not well enough,” Breton snarled, flexing his hands behind his back.

The princess recoiled as though he had slapped her across the face. The splash of red on her cheeks paled away, and her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

It took him several deep breaths for him to regain his composure. “I mean that he’s one of the best riders in the Rift. He would not have sent his best mare with a
Knight
unless he was unfit to ride. That means he is not well.”

The Yadesh’s ears flattened back. Kelsh’s princess spluttered, but she otherwise remained silent.

“You have not introduced your Yadesh,” he said when his patience frayed at the woman’s lack of response.

Her blush returned, brighter than before. “Oh. I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound apologetic, but Breton decided to ignore her tone. “This is Relas.”

Breton dipped into a bow as Kalen had taught him. “Your fellow Yadesh have been very helpful. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

~Thank you,~
she replied, her voice a tired whisper in his head.
~I apologize for her behavior. Things have been difficult for us.~

He sighed. “If you’re to learn Mithrian, then you will learn Rifter as well, filly.”

“My name is Tala,” she replied in a curt voice.

Breton watched her, narrowing his eyes as he decided how best to handle her. If he gave her a reason to dislike
him
, the possibility existed that Kalen would respond by attempting to smooth things over in as diplomatic a fashion was possible. The possibility also existed that the Rift King wouldn’t care about the woman’s pride or dignity, choosing to treat her in the same way he would a recalcitrant mare in the Rift.