Wolfblade (61 page)

“Didn’t you hear
anything I
just said, Mahkas?”

“Probably dreamin’ of his missus,” one of the Raiders chuckled.

“Well, he’s been daydreaming about something,” Laran agreed. “So let’s go over this again, shall we? For the benefit of those who were asleep the first time. We’re going to cross the border further north, here, across the Bardarlen Gorge and then double back once we’ve found our cattle. We want about ten head, no more. They’ll be too hard to keep together when we drive them across the stream, otherwise.”

The Bardarlen Gorge was a narrow cutting some ten miles north-east of their current position. Although deep and treacherous, at its closest point it could (theoretically) be straddled by a man on horseback. A Hythrun horseman could jump it, at any rate. With their sorcerer-bred mounts and their far superior skills in horsemanship, the Hythrun Raiders were able to make what the Medalonians considered to be a dangerous if not impossible leap across the gorge from Hythria into Medalon. They were so convinced it wasn’t possible to breach Bardarlen Gorge that it had still not occurred to the Defenders how the Raiders managed to cross the border when they watched the known passes so closely.

Of course, it wasn’t possible to return that way. No steer would attempt to jump the gorge, but it was a quick and easy way into Medalon that allowed the Krakandar Raiders the chance to miss the Defender patrols and gather the cattle they wanted, leaving them fresh and ready to fight their way back into Hythria at the Border Stream where the Defenders were undoubtedly waiting for them.

“The Bardarlen Gorge it is then,” Mahkas nodded, glancing at Laran.

“And no killing,” Laran added. The orders weren’t prompted by any particular nobility on Laran’s part. It was a coldly practical decision. The Defenders might try to stop the Hythrun raiding their cattle, but while nobody died it was just an irritation. Once over their own border, the Defenders tended to let them go, not pursuing the Raiders much further than a couple of miles into Hythrun territory.

If they started killing Medalonian civilians, however, the Defenders got rather peeved. They started taking Hythrun lives in retribution. Hythrun farms became the target of Defender reprisals, and because Laran couldn’t allow any attack on his citizens to go unavenged, it wouldn’t take much after that to plunge them into a full-scale war.

They all knew Laran didn’t want a war. He just wanted a few head of cattle
for the Feast of Kalianah and it had become something of a tradition for Krakandar to serve Medalonian beef at the feast.

“Mount up,” Laran ordered, after glancing around to make certain everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing. The Raiders hurried to their horses while Laran kicked over the sketch in the dirt, obliterating it. Then he glanced at Mahkas, a little concerned. “Are you all right, brother?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You seem a little . . . I don’t know . . . distracted?”

“I guess I can’t stop worrying about Bylinda,” he shrugged. “I keep thinking I should have stayed with her.”

“Women don’t want their menfolk hanging around at a time like this.”

“But still, I was thinking, Laran . . . maybe I should go back . . .”

His older brother slapped him on the shoulder comfortingly and led him towards his waiting mount. “She’s in good hands, Mahkas. The midwives know what they’re doing and, between them, Lirena and Veruca have probably delivered half the noble-born babies in Hythria. You’ve no need to worry.”

“But Laran—”

“Stop fretting,” Laran said with a laugh. “And that’s an order. Your wife will be fine. She’s as healthy as a horse and strong as an ox. So forget about Bylinda and let’s go honour Dacendaran with some prime Medalonian beef.”

Mahkas nodded unhappily and swung into the saddle. He gathered up his reins and turned his horse to follow the others towards the Bardarlen Gorge, thinking things were just going from bad to worse.

The best he could hope for now, Mahkas thought miserably, was that Laran misjudged the jump at the Bardarlen Gorge, saving Mahkas from having to face his brother’s wrath when he learned the truth about Darilyn and Riika.

Which gave Mahkas another, even more terrible idea . . .

T
he High Arrion looked exhausted when he arrived at the palace. After a perfunctory greeting for Marla, Bylinda and Nash, he retired to his rooms almost immediately. He wasn’t at dinner that night or at breakfast the next morning. Marla was quite worried about him. He was an old man, after all, and it was a long way from Greenharbour. Perhaps the journey had taken more out of him than he’d expected. Kagan had sent a message asking not to be disturbed so she ordered Orleon to see that his every need was catered for and went to check on Bylinda.

Her sister-in-law was having an uncomfortable time of it this morning and had stayed in bed. It was obvious she must give birth any day now, but the child seemed reluctant to leave the warmth and security of the womb. Marla hoped it didn’t mean it was going to be a difficult birth. Even for a woman as well cared for as Bylinda, childbirth was a dangerous time. But the midwives seemed unconcerned, assuring their young mistress that the babe would come when it was good and ready. So Marla left Bylinda with the midwives and went looking for Nash.

“Lord Hawksword took Master Travin and Master Xanda into the city just after breakfast,” Orleon informed her when she couldn’t find him in the palace.

“Why?”

“Do you expect me to question the comings and goings of every visitor in the palace, your highness?”

“I expect you to know why my nephews were allowed to leave in the care of a stranger.”

“Lord Hawksword is hardly a stranger, my lady, and he took a full guard with him. The young lords will be quite safe.”

Marla remained silent, having learned that a glare was sometimes the only way to deal with the steward.

“I believe they mentioned something about puppies, your highness,” he added after a moment.

“And you couldn’t just
tell
me Lord Hawksword had taken the boys into the city to buy them a dog?”

Nash had promised the boys he’d get them their very own fighting dog the day he arrived, even though Marla thought them much too young to own anything so potentially vicious.

Orleon had the sense to look a little shamefaced. “I apologise, your highness.”

Marla had the feeling that Orleon wasn’t in the least bit sorry, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. “I would like to be informed as soon as they return. I have matters I need to discuss with Lord Hawksword.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

“I’ll be in the nursery.”

“Very good, your highness.”

“Very good, your highness,”
she muttered sarcastically under her breath as she walked away, her slippers silent on the perfectly polished floor. If it was “very good, your highness”, she shouldn’t have to ask these things at all.

As it turned out, Marla didn’t need to wait on Orleon to advise her of Nash’s return. Nash brought Travin and Xanda back to the nursery himself just before lunch—fortunately without a puppy. There had been nothing available that Nash had liked the look of, he claimed, so the boys had returned empty-handed. Marla was quite relieved. The task of choosing any sort of companion—canine or otherwise—for Laran’s nephews should have been left to Laran or Mahkas, she thought.

“Orleon mentioned that you wished to speak to me, your highness,” Nash remarked casually after the boys had finished their excited tale about the terriers they’d been to see.

She nodded, handing Damin over to Lirena. Starros stood near the old nurse, hiding behind her skirts. He was still wary of all these new faces, but had taken the change in his circumstances with remarkable equanimity. Marla suspected the child was too street-smart to question his sudden good fortune. He was simply riding this unanticipated wave of prosperity while it lasted, probably expecting it to come to an end at any moment. After tut-tutting about the notion of allowing a working
court’esa
’s bastard into the nursery, Lirena and Veruca had taken the child under their collective wing and set about making him look more like a suitable companion for a prince. Starros was scrubbed this morning, his hair trimmed and combed neatly, and he was dressed in a shirt, trousers and boots that had once belonged to Xanda. He was really quite a presentable-looking child when he was clean.

Marla spared the child a quick, reassuring smile, kissed her son and then took a deep breath before turning to face Nash.

“Yes, I
would
like a word with you, my lord,” she agreed, trying to sound formal and aloof. “Would you take a turn around the gardens with me?”

“I’d be delighted.”

Leaving the children in the care of Lirena, Marla waited for Nash to open the door for her then stepped out onto the terrace which led down to the lawns. Nash fell into step beside her as they walked away from the palace.

Neither of them said a word until they were out of sight of the terrace, at which point Nash took her arm and led her into one of the sheltered grottoes scattered through the gardens. Surrounded by a tall hedge which was covered in jasmine climbing across from the nearby wall, there was a small love-seat in the grotto beside a fountain sculpted in the shape of Kalianah, the child Goddess of Love, pouring water into the small pool through an earthenware pitcher. Marla glanced around with a frown. Of all the places she
didn’t
want this conversation to happen, Kalianah’s grotto was probably the top of the list.

Another day had given Marla a chance to think things through, and she realised the folly of what she had been contemplating. It didn’t matter what she felt about Nash. She gave up any hope for something between them the day she married Laran. What was it Jeryma had said back in Cabradell when she confessed her own dalliance?
Affairs like that are doomed to fail
.

It would break Marla’s heart to give up the only man she had ever truly wanted, or loved, but she had her son to think of. And the danger was very real. A cuckolded husband was quite within his rights to put aside an adulterous wife. And he could deny her any access to their child. Her mother-in-law was right.
If you need that sort of comfort, stick to a
court’esa, Jeryma had advised.
They’re actually better at it and they don’t come with all the risks attached to one’s own class
. Keeping a slave for pleasure wasn’t considered cheating. Slaves were possessions, after all, not people. A wife could only be accused of cheating if she indulged in an affair with a free man.

Filled with a sense of righteousness, Marla took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other evening,” she began as she pulled away from Nash and put the small fountain between them.

Nash didn’t answer her. He simply waited for her to continue. His expression was hard to read, but he had learned one lesson. He wasn’t looking in the least bit smug.

“There can be nothing between us, Nash. You know that.”

“I see,” he replied in a voice that betrayed no emotion at all.

“I mean it,” she added sternly. “I don’t want you to even suggest such a thing, ever again. What happened must be forgotten.”

“As you wish.”

She glared at him suspiciously. “So you agree?”

“If that’s what you want of me . . .”

“It is.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

This was too easy. She felt a stab of disappointment. Nash had capitulated to her wishes far too readily. Maybe he never really loved her at all. Maybe that’s why he raised no objections to her insistence that he stop pursuing her. He didn’t care . . .

Marla swallowed hard in an attempt to lubricate her dry mouth. She was suddenly aware of every little detail—the cobalt sky, the warm spring air with a hint of jasmine on it from the hedge. The birds chirping in the branches of the milkwood trees near the outer wall. She could feel the silk of her gown against every pore, even the leather on the soles of her slippers.

“Well,” she said uncomfortably. “That’s taken care of that, then.”

She squared her shoulders and walked back around the fountain towards the small arch in the hedge which led back to the path.

“Marla . . .”

She turned back to him impatiently.
“What?”

“I’ll always love you.”

She was three steps away from Nash. And three small steps away from the path outside the grotto and doing the right thing. Marla hesitated for barely a moment before turning her back on every good excuse and reason she’d thought up in the past two days for not following her heart. With those four words Nash undid every good intention she aspired to.

Hearing that simple admission, Marla discovered she didn’t care about anything else.

Marla was in Nash’s arms before she had time to question the lunacy of her decision. He lifted her off the ground, kissing her hard and hungrily. She kissed him back ferociously, wrapping her legs around him, wishing she could treasure this moment, this feeling, forever.

For the first time since she rode out of Highcastle more than two years ago, Marla felt like she was doing something for herself—not for her brother, or for Laran or for Hythria, but for
herself
.