Wolfblade (43 page)

“I listen, your highness. And I learn.”

“Aren’t you breaking your own rules?” she asked with a smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Rule Number Thirteen? Doesn’t it say you should never appear too bright or too clever?”

“Actually, I was applying the Seventh Rule.”

She thought for a moment before she replied, obviously trying to recall what Rule Number Seven was. “Make others seek your aid? I wasn’t seeking your aid.”

“No, but by making you believe I have an answer for everything, who
else are you going to turn to?” Elezaar could always make Marla laugh and it concerned him a little when all she did was smile distantly. “Is something wrong, your highness?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not unwell, are you?”

“No.”

“But something is amiss.”

She hesitated then blurted out, “How will I know when I’m pregnant, Elezaar?”

He stared at her curiously. “Do you think you might be?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been sharing a bed with Lord Krakenshield for nearly three months now,” he reminded her. “One can safely assume he’s been diligently undertaking the necessary steps to create our next High Prince?”

She laughed this time. “One could safely assume that, yes.”

“Then you might well be, your highness. When was your last bleed?”

“About three weeks ago.”

“Then it’s far too early to tell.”

“But aren’t there other symptoms? Aren’t I supposed to get sick?”

“Not all women get morning sickness. Some get tender breasts, some get no symptoms at all until their belly starts to swell.” He glanced at her discarded plate and nodded in understanding. “Let me guess. You couldn’t bear the thought of fish for breakfast this morning and wondered if that meant you were pregnant?”

“Something like that.”

He patted her hand comfortingly. “You’re young and healthy, your highness. There’s no need to fret just yet.”

“If I’m not with child, then I hope Laran’s not away too long,” she sighed.

“Are you now so committed to your husband’s cause that you’ve become a willing participant?”

“I’m bored, Elezaar. At the very least, a child will give me something to do.”

Elezaar bit back the temptation to remark that no poor woman ever thought such a thing. Instead he smiled, looking for a way to distract her. “We could resume our lessons until your husband returns, my lady.”

“To what purpose, Elezaar?” she asked miserably. “Nobody cares if I know anything other than how to spread my legs.”

“A game, then,” he suggested brightly.

“What game?”

“How about . . . ‘If I Was Ruling My Own Province’?”

“That’s not a game.”

“We could make it one,” he said. “We’ll use the chess pieces and rename
them. Laran would be the king. You could be the queen. Captain Tollin would be a knight. Captain Almodavar the other one.”

“Lady Jeryma’s the queen around here,” she pointed out with a frown.

“Very well. You could be the tower then.”

“And Laran’s precious little Riika can be the other tower,” she added.

“That’s the idea! Lord Kagan and Lady Tesha would be the bishops . . .”

“And the people of Sunrise would be the pawns.”

“Now you’re getting the idea! You think about who the opposing pieces are going to be and I’ll fetch the board.”

Elezaar hurried out of the courtyard to get the chess set, thinking this was a wonderful way to keep her amused, educate her and play on her fears all at the same time while Laran was away. He even felt a little guilty for doing it.

It was unfortunate, but Elezaar’s security lay in Marla’s insecurity. Perhaps, after she had her child, he would be able to establish himself as teacher and confidant to the next High Prince of Hythria.

Maybe then, Elezaar decided, he would finally be safe.

D
arilyn’s foul mood eased up a little after a few days. The boys tiptoed around her, terrified of incurring their mother’s wrath. After a few days, however, with the preternatural understanding common to all children, they worked out who had the real power in the family. It took them very little time to discover Laran could (and would) overrule Darilyn if they asked nicely, so they started going to him for permission to play outside or go over to the northern keep to play with the children of the merchants and customs officials who lived there. Laran wouldn’t authorise an excursion outside the walls of the keep, however, even when they tried begging, unless Darilyn agreed to it, so they appealed to Riika to intervene on their behalf to take them to the stream to see if the ice had started to thaw yet.

Much to Riika’s surprise, Darilyn agreed readily to the notion. Riika figured she was getting sick of the boys underfoot and was glad of the chance to be free of them for the day. Raek Harlen agreed to accompany them and arranged for a squad to escort Riika and the boys to the stream. It had iced over completely early in the winter and both Travin and Xanda were concerned about what might happen to the old pike who lived there, whom they had unofficially adopted as a pet.

Everything was set to go, when, at the last minute, Mahkas ordered his lieutenant and two-thirds of the squad back to the keep and offered to escort Riika and the boys himself. Travin and Xanda were thrilled by the notion their beloved Uncle Mahkas was coming on their picnic, although Riika was a little disappointed. She liked Raek Harlen, much more than she probably should, considering she was the daughter of a Warlord and he was just a Raider, albeit the son of a minor noble. She’d been looking forward to spending the day with him, having him help her up the slope or catch her when she stumbled. Mahkas would do the same for her, of course, and just as willingly,
but it wasn’t the same as having a handsome young Raider at her beck and call.

“Why so glum?” Mahkas asked, as they followed the boys up the western slope of the mountain away from the southern keep on the Fardohnyan side of the castle. The border itself was a few miles further west, right in the Widowmaker Pass. Travin and Xanda were shouting excitedly as they ran on ahead, their cries echoing over the steep mountain slopes.

“Was I looking glum?”

“Like your best friend just died.”

“I was just thinking about something.”

“Well, cheer up,” Mahkas ordered. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Riika smiled. “I hope you remember that when you have to wade into an icy stream to fetch one of your nephews out of it. And when you have to explain to Darilyn afterwards why her boys are wet and freezing to death.”

“Now you’re spoiling
my
day.”

“You didn’t have to come, Mahkas.”

“I wanted a day off. Laran’s here. Let him deal with all the insanity that goes along with running Winternest for a day and see how he likes it.”

“He says you’ve done a good job,” Riika told him, hoping to cheer her brother a little. For a man supposedly on a family picnic, he was rather morose.

“Does he? He never told me that.”

“Laran wants you to stay here in command of Winternest,” she pointed out, puffing a little with the exertion of negotiating the snowy slope. “Doesn’t that tell you something? I mean, if he didn’t like the job you’re doing, he would have sent you back to Cabradell by now. Maybe even home to Krakandar.”

Mahkas looked at her oddly. “Is that what you think?”

“You’ve nothing to worry about, Mahkas,” she assured him. “In fact, I’m sure if you asked him, Laran would make your posting here permanent. He says you’re really good at dealing with the merchants. He says you have the common touch.”

“Laran thinks I’m
common?”

Riika laughed. “Oh, Mahkas, look at your face! It was a compliment! He meant you’re really good at dealing with the common people.”

“Oh, sure, he meant it as a compliment,” Mahkas replied, clearly not convinced. “But if Laran is so damned impressed with my
common
touch, why leave me stuck up here on the border? I was more use to him fighting off Medalonian cattle thieves than I am collecting taxes off a bunch of greasy Fardohnyan caravan drivers.”

Riika detected a note of bitterness that seemed more than just a young man feeling a little put out over something trivial.

“Perhaps you should talk to Laran when we get back, Mahkas.”

“Perhaps I will,” Mahkas muttered unhappily, striding on ahead of her and effectively putting an end to their conversation.

With the stream still iced over and no sign of Zag, the name Xanda had given to their missing fish, Mahkas suggested after lunch that his nephews might like to take a walk even further from the castle, into the woods. Under the shelter of the trees closer to the pass, the small stream was still flowing. Mahkas thought the boys might have more luck finding Zag upstream and they happily agreed to the suggestion. Riika wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to stray so close to the border, but figured that if Mahkas thought it was safe, there was nothing to be concerned about. Once he’d made the suggestion, there was no chance of getting out of it anyway. Travin and Xanda were determined to find their fish and, with an ally as influential as their Uncle Mahkas, they knew there was little chance of Aunt Riika overruling his decision.

The air grew colder as they walked under the trees. The boys bounded on ahead, as usual, calling for Mahkas to catch up with them. Mahkas had left the guards back by their picnic things, claiming (out of his nephews’ hearing) that there was no need for everyone to traipse through the forest upstream trying to find one not-very-large fish that probably wasn’t there anyway.

Mahkas hurried on ahead to catch the boys. He stopped after a few steps and turned to look at Riika. “Come on, slow coach!”

“It’s all right for you,” she called after him. “You’re not wearing a skirt!”

The snow was deeper here in the shadow of the trees where the shade stopped it from melting in the weak winter sunlight. Riika trudged through it doggedly, wishing she’d decided to stay back with the guards and their picnic.

At least she’d had the sense to wear an old outfit, even if it was a little tattered and ragged; she knew it’d be messy and wet trudging around in the snow with her nephews.

Mahkas laughed and turned to follow the boys. Within a few steps he was hidden by the trees, only the sound of Travin and Xanda’s distant laughter reminding Riika that she wasn’t totally alone in the world. Smiling at the boys’ obvious delight and at Mahkas’s generosity in humouring his nephews, Riika slowed her pace a little. She wasn’t really needed. Mahkas and the boys were having plenty of fun without her. It must be something about boys—little boys as well as big ones—this idea that floundering around in knee-deep snow looking for a fish probably long gone in an icy stream in the dead of winter was entertaining.

Riika’s next step plunged her into a small gully, where the snow went from knee-deep to thigh-deep in the space of a single step. Cursing, she
struggled out of the depression, looked in the direction Mahkas had disappeared with the boys and threw her hands up in defeat. They didn’t need her and she was going to be soaked to the skin. At least, back at the picnic site, they had a small fire going. Riika turned and headed back to where the guards waited with the remains of their lunch, shivering as she tried to shake the powdery snow from her skirts before it began to melt.

As she trudged back towards the camp, the sound of the children’s voices faded away to nothing and the silence under the canopy of the forest began to feel unnerving. Riika looked around, wondering why she hadn’t noticed how far into the treeline they had wandered. She wasn’t afraid to getting lost. Her footprints, along with those of Mahkas and the children, were clearly visible heading back towards the small plateau where the guards waited. There were other footprints too, she noted, that ran parallel to theirs. Perhaps the guards Mahkas left back at the picnic site had shadowed them into the forest for a way, to make certain they were safe. There wasn’t a Raider in Winternest who wanted to be the one to face Lady Darilyn and break the news that something had happened to one of her sons.

The sharp, unexpected crack of a breaking twig made Riika jump. At the sudden sound a large bird roosting in the trees was also disturbed. It launched itself from the branches overhead with a raucous squawk, showering her with snow.

This time she let out a short, involuntary squeal and then, her heart still pounding, she laughed at herself for being so foolish.

Shaking the snow from her hair, Riika followed the footprints back the way she had come, scolding herself for being an over-imaginative idiot. Despite the blanketing silence, it was broad daylight and there was nothing in the forest to be concerned about. In front of her lay her brother’s guards, left minding their picnic lunch; behind her nothing more sinister than Mahkas and his nephews hunting an old pike in a frozen stream.

Riika saw the edge of the trees ahead and increased her pace, hoping she didn’t look too bedraggled. Between trudging through the snow, falling into that damn hollow and having a bird take off over her head, she’d received quite a dousing in the past half hour. Suddenly, she was glad Raek Harlen had been sent back to the keep. She wouldn’t want him to see her looking like—