Knight's Prize (34 page)

Miriel
grinned. He was clever, her bridegroom. And eager to please. Chivalrous. And
kind. And handsome. And utterly irresistible.

But
she supposed she'd have to resist him for the moment. After all, 'twould be
inappropriate to seize her beloved Rand by the tabard, throw him onto one of
the trestle tables, tear off his trews, and have her way with him with all the
folk of Rivenloch for witness. No matter how tempting the thought.

She
settled for holding tight to his arm, resting her cheek fondly against his
shoulder, and listening to the wonderful rumble of his laughter as he chuckled
over the playful fighting of Hob-Nob and Wat-Wat.

At
the end of their long performance, Lord Gellir naturally invited the players
to join him at dice. They enthusiastically agreed, and soon the wagering
turned fiercely comic as Wat-Wat began stealing silver from Hob-Nob's pile and
Hob-Nob kept thumping him on the back of the head.

Miriel
knew her father would suffer great losses tonight at the hands of the two sly
knaves. They were not only experts at sleight of hand, but they talked circles
of logic around the men at the table, leaving them scratching their heads and
handing over their coin.

But
she hadn't seen her father so happy in weeks, and she didn't want anything to
dim that happiness. Perchance 'twas worth the loss of a few coins for the joy
that blossomed in Lord Gellir's eyes as Wat-Wat and Hob-Nob battled over the
single piece of silver they'd just won off him.

As
if he'd read her mind, Rand squeezed her hand in reassurance, and murmured,
"I'll try to make sure he doesn't lose too badly." Then with a sweet
kiss to her brow, he bade her good night and moved to the gaming table to join
in the wagering.

Miriel
would have preferred that he carry her up to her bedchamber, toss her onto the
pallet, throw up her skirts, and give her a proper good night. But he was a man
of conscience and good heart, and there was much to be said for prudence,
particularly when she seemed to have so little of late.

Besides,
as soon as she rose from the table and headed for the stairs, Sung Li followed
her.

"Miriel."
He snapped like a hound at her heels. "Miriel."

Miriel
didn't bother to acknowledge the pesky servant. She was still irritated with
him.

"Miriel."

Miriel
opened her chamber door, tempted to turn about and slam it in his face.

Then
Sung Li reached out to grab her arm, muttering one of his inscrutable
declarations. "He is not who you think he is."

She
could have pretended she didn't know who Sung Li meant, but 'twould have been
useless. Instead, she bit out, "And you are not who I thought you
were." She stood nose to nose with Sung Li. "I thought you were my
faithful servant, my respected
xiansheng,
my friend." She jerked
her arm out of Sung Li's grasp. "But you've been naught but rude to my
bridegroom ever since he arrived."

Sung
Li raised his chin proudly. "What I do, I do for your protection."

"Protection?"
She rolled her eyes, then pulled Sung Li through the doorway into her
bedchamber, closing the door against those who might overhear. "Sung Li, you
are ever telling me that I am a child. How do you expect me to grow up if you
insist on protecting me?"

Sung
Li listened in silence.

"I
don't know why you hate Rand so," she continued. "But I know he is a
good man. He will make me a fine husband. He has been patient with my father
and kind to my sisters. And as horrid as you've been to him, he's even been
civil to
you."

Sung
Li stared at her a long while, his black gaze intent and probing, his mind
probably a thousand miles away, until Miriel was forced to look away in
discomfort.

Finally,
he spoke. "You are right. It is time that you make your own future."

Miriel
blinked in astonishment. 'Twas the last thing she expected from Sung Li. The
stubborn old master never admitted he was wrong.

"But
there are things I must reveal to you," he said, "very important
things that will help you to steer your destiny." -

Miriel
nodded mutely, still reeling from his concession.

"The
two fools are not as foolish as they seem," he intoned.

"Hob-Nob
and Wat-Wat?"

"They
are strong and agile and clever."

"What
do the players have to do with Rand?"

"He
hired them, did he not?"

"Aye,
but—"

"And
they are winning much coin this night."

"As
does everyone who wagers against my father."

"Which
by now Rand of Morbroch knows."

"What
are you saying?"

"Your
betrothed hired the players to rob your father of his silver this eve. On the
morrow, he will leave with them, and they will split their winnings."

"What?"
She was tempted to laugh, so preposterous was Sung Li's accusation.

"He
will not return again."

"That's
the most absurd thing I've ever—"

"You
do not remember him from before," Sung Li reminded her, "when he
claims to have fallen in love with you."

Miriel
bit her lip. She wanted to gainsay Sung Li, but what he said was right. Forsooth,
no one at the tournament remembered Sir Rand of Morbroch. Indeed, he'd fabricated
the entire tale. Suddenly her chest felt weighted, as if a heavy lump of lead
congealed there.

"He
did not come for you, Miriel."

"What
are you saying?" Her lungs constricted, making it hard to breathe.
"That he came to Rivenloch to rob my father?"

Sung
Li's silence was telling.

"That
cannot be true." But in her mind, she knew 'twas possible. He could have used
the pretense of courting her simply to gain access to the gaming table. And he
could have freely promised her marriage if he planned to escape with his
winnings, knowing full well 'twas a promise he'd never be compelled to keep.
The possibility sickened her.

Yet
why would such a man resort to thievery? He clearly was well funded enough to
own a fine blade and a magnificent horse, to suffer gambling losses over the
past sennight, to purchase a ring for her at the fair.

"He's
a noble knight," she insisted, though she knew 'twas likely a lie.

"Are
you certain of that?"

She
couldn't meet Sung Li's eyes. "He introduced himself as Sir Rand of
Morbroch."

"And
Hob-Nob introduced himself as the King of the Faeries."

Miriel
felt as if she scrabbled for purchase on a rapidly crumbling wall. "Who
but a noble knight could wield a sword so well?"

Sung
Li narrowed his wise eyes. "Certainly not the meek daughter of a Scots
lord," he said pointedly. "Nor her aging maidservant."

Miriel
had to concede—Sung Li was right. One couldn't judge by appearances. But
neither could one make rash assumptions.

She
shook her head. "I don't believe it. I know Rand. He is a man of honor.
And he loves me." To her dismay, despite the conviction of her statement,
her voice cracked over the last words.

Sung
Li's face looked suddenly old and weary, as if he'd aged ten years in the span
of a few moments. "I tell you, he will betray you."

That
wasn't what Miriel's heart told her. Her heart said that Rand cherished her,
that their souls were inextricably intertwined, that he would never do anything
to hurt her.

"You'll
see," she told Sung Li. "Come morn, the players will take their
leave, and all of this will be remedied. Rand will still be here. He wouldn't
leave me."

For
a long while her words hung in the air, sounding more hollow and desperate with
each passing moment.

Sung
Li at last acknowledged her with a nod, then turned and reached for the door.
Though his back was to her, she could hear the command in his voice. "
'Twould be a foolish thing if The Shadow tried to steal the players' silver in
the morn."

The
thought had never occurred to Miriel. She supposed she was too caught up in
the horrifying possibility that Rand might betray her to think of The Shadow
and what might become of the players' winnings. "Foolish?"

"The
three of them together make a formidable foe."

"There
will be only two," she insisted. "Rand won't go with them."

"Yet
on the morrow it will happen. The Night will swallow The Shadow."

Miriel
gulped. "What do you mean?" This time the prophecy chilled her blood.

His
explanation was as obtuse as his prediction. "Swallowed by the night, the
shadow disappears."

'Twas
true, she supposed, from a standpoint of pure logic. But Sung Li's soothsaying
was never that simplistic. As she reconsidered the symbolism, a startling
possibility invaded her thoughts. God's eyes, by Night did Sung Li mean death?
Would The Shadow die on the morrow?

'Twas
impossible to imagine. The Shadow was untouchable. He escaped every encounter,
unscathed. No one could catch the elusive thief, much less deal him a killing
blow. The Shadow was indestructible.

Yet
Sung Li seemed very serious about his prediction, and he was never wrong.
Miriel had to pay heed to his words. "I'm certain the outlaw won't do
anything foolish."

Sung
Li hesitated, as if he wished to say something else, then decided against it.
Without another word, he opened the door.

"Where
are you going?"

"You
are right," he said with a slight bow of his head. "You are no longer
a child. You do not need an old man to guard your sleep."

With
that, Sung Li bade her good night and left her chamber.

Miriel
should have felt a heady rush of independence. At last Sung Li had recognized her
for what she was—a grown woman. But instead, her heart suffered a twinge of
sorrow.

Something
had forever changed between the two of them. Miriel was no longer the student.
Sung Li was no longer the master. They had come to a crossroads where they had to
take separate paths.

But
if Miriel had known at that moment that because of her insistence on Rand's
innocence, she might never set eyes upon her beloved
xiansheng
again,
she would have chased after Sung Li and insisted he spend this fateful night by
her side.

Unfortunately,
love had made her blind.

Meanwhile,
Miriel tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep for the troubles
tormenting her wakeful brain.

Damn
it all! 'Twas unfair.

She
adored Rand. He was everything she could hope for in a husband. He was perfect
for her. Witty and kind, intelligent and attentive, brave and deliciously
wicked, he was just the sort of man who understood her free spirit. He made her
feel alive and respected and cherished. She sensed he was a man who could
eventually accept her for the warrior maid she was.

Now
Sung Li had planted an ugly seed of doubt in her mind, a seed that might grow
and bloom into utter betrayal.

She
hoped for once her
xiansheng
was
wrong. She prayed that there was naught to fret over, that 'twas only a foolish
fear on Sung Li's part, that on the morrow she'd wake to find Rand breaking his
fast by the morning hearth, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

She
prayed 'twas so. For if 'twas not...

God
save her, she'd trysted with the man.

Chapter
21

The
sun's face
was fully above the horizon now. Miriel had lain
abed as long as she could. Despite a fitful night of little sleep, her bones
grew restless along with her thoughts, insisting she rise.

She supposed
Sung Li wasn't going to come to her chamber for
taijiquan
this
morn. Mayhap he expected her to do the exercises alone from now on. Whatever
his intentions, she'd already waited too long to begin. Her family would wonder
what had become of her if she was further delayed.