Ariella, and let us be up and away!" he said so loudly
that she winced. "We have far to go, and the sooner we are upon the
journey, the sooner we will reach home!"
"Aye,
soonest wedded and soonest bedded," called one of his men, and another
guffawed as Ariella held the hastily proffered food with one hand, stood up,
and shook herself free of the bedclothes. She had gone to sleep fully dressed,
so there was little for her to do to "make ready"—but no sooner had
she stood free of the blankets than one of the men bustled into the tent and
bundled up her erstwhile sleeping-place, carrying it off to stow in a pack
somewhere. She clutched the bread and meat, trying not to cry, wondering what
to do next, and the tent began to teeter above her as other men pulled up its
stakes. She hastily got out of the way, only to find herself seized by the
waist and swinging through the air as Lord Lyon hoisted her into her litter
again.
"You'll
find better provisioning here today, my Lady," he said as he closed the
curtains on her. "We won't be stopping till nightfall, so make yourself
free of it when you've a mind to refresh yourself."
She
was still clutching the bread and cold meat; he had not even given her the chance
to take or refuse the crude breakfast. In the gloom of the horse-litter, in the
farther corner she made out a pale bundle among the furs and traveling rugs. As
the mules started forward with a jerk, she pulled it toward her.
She
wrestled the knots holding it shut with chilled fingers while the litter swayed
and jounced between the two mules. The white cloth finally parted beneath her
numb hands and fell open, and by touch and scent she recognized the vague
shapes as cheese, apples, more bread, and a leather bottle, carefully stoppered
shut. She levered the stopper out and sniffed cautiously; it held wine, rather
than the herb tea or water that she would have preferred. She didn't think her
aching head would be well-served by drinking it.
For
that matter, her stomach wasn't particularly enamored of the greasy,
half-burnt meat, the strong cheese, or the stale bread. As her head continued
to pound, she huddled miserably into the furs and wondered what would become of
her.
Slow
tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped onto the fur. She choked down a sob,
which lodged in her throat and remained there, a cold ball of ice that resisted
swallowing. Never had she felt so alone, so helpless, and so deserted. How
could her Papa have left her to this?
She
jumped, holding in a gasp, as the sound of voices just behind her startled her.
"Have
you seen anything?" That was Lord Lyon's booming voice, and she shrank
instinctively away from the sound.
"Wolf
sign, nothing more. No sign of Faerie—"
"Quiet,
you fool!" Lord Lyon snapped. "Don't you know better than to speak of
them out loud?" His horse snorted and the harness jingled. "You're
sure you haven't seen anything?"
"Absolutely
sure." The man laughed. "Not that they would come anywhere near
this much iron and steel. Why are you so concerned? You've never fretted
about meeting them on the road before."
"There
are rumors—" Lord Lyon growled. "Rumors my young bride has had doings
with them, and she's got a fey look about her to back those rumors. She's
comely enough for them to want her, and I've heard they don't look kindly on
those who make a claim on maidens they've taken an interest in. I'm not minded
to risk the loss of so fine a manor and lands when I'm so close to taking
possession of them, and I've no intention of finding myself in some magical
battle just because one of them wants her back."
The
other man laughed again. "Well, you'll have plenty of iron, steel, and
holy men between you and their wiles once we're back at Lyon Castle. And besides
all that protection, you'll have all of your men alert and standing between as
well. Nothing will get in— or out."
"Meaning?" Lord Lyon asked a
trifle suspiciously.
"Meaning
that if they try to call her outside your
that she winced. "We have far to go, and the sooner we are upon the
journey, the sooner we will reach home!"
"Aye,
soonest wedded and soonest bedded," called one of his men, and another
guffawed as Ariella held the hastily proffered food with one hand, stood up,
and shook herself free of the bedclothes. She had gone to sleep fully dressed,
so there was little for her to do to "make ready"—but no sooner had
she stood free of the blankets than one of the men bustled into the tent and
bundled up her erstwhile sleeping-place, carrying it off to stow in a pack
somewhere. She clutched the bread and meat, trying not to cry, wondering what
to do next, and the tent began to teeter above her as other men pulled up its
stakes. She hastily got out of the way, only to find herself seized by the
waist and swinging through the air as Lord Lyon hoisted her into her litter
again.
"You'll
find better provisioning here today, my Lady," he said as he closed the
curtains on her. "We won't be stopping till nightfall, so make yourself
free of it when you've a mind to refresh yourself."
She
was still clutching the bread and cold meat; he had not even given her the chance
to take or refuse the crude breakfast. In the gloom of the horse-litter, in the
farther corner she made out a pale bundle among the furs and traveling rugs. As
the mules started forward with a jerk, she pulled it toward her.
She
wrestled the knots holding it shut with chilled fingers while the litter swayed
and jounced between the two mules. The white cloth finally parted beneath her
numb hands and fell open, and by touch and scent she recognized the vague
shapes as cheese, apples, more bread, and a leather bottle, carefully stoppered
shut. She levered the stopper out and sniffed cautiously; it held wine, rather
than the herb tea or water that she would have preferred. She didn't think her
aching head would be well-served by drinking it.
For
that matter, her stomach wasn't particularly enamored of the greasy,
half-burnt meat, the strong cheese, or the stale bread. As her head continued
to pound, she huddled miserably into the furs and wondered what would become of
her.
Slow
tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped onto the fur. She choked down a sob,
which lodged in her throat and remained there, a cold ball of ice that resisted
swallowing. Never had she felt so alone, so helpless, and so deserted. How
could her Papa have left her to this?
She
jumped, holding in a gasp, as the sound of voices just behind her startled her.
"Have
you seen anything?" That was Lord Lyon's booming voice, and she shrank
instinctively away from the sound.
"Wolf
sign, nothing more. No sign of Faerie—"
"Quiet,
you fool!" Lord Lyon snapped. "Don't you know better than to speak of
them out loud?" His horse snorted and the harness jingled. "You're
sure you haven't seen anything?"
"Absolutely
sure." The man laughed. "Not that they would come anywhere near
this much iron and steel. Why are you so concerned? You've never fretted
about meeting them on the road before."
"There
are rumors—" Lord Lyon growled. "Rumors my young bride has had doings
with them, and she's got a fey look about her to back those rumors. She's
comely enough for them to want her, and I've heard they don't look kindly on
those who make a claim on maidens they've taken an interest in. I'm not minded
to risk the loss of so fine a manor and lands when I'm so close to taking
possession of them, and I've no intention of finding myself in some magical
battle just because one of them wants her back."
The
other man laughed again. "Well, you'll have plenty of iron, steel, and
holy men between you and their wiles once we're back at Lyon Castle. And besides
all that protection, you'll have all of your men alert and standing between as
well. Nothing will get in— or out."
"Meaning?" Lord Lyon asked a
trifle suspiciously.
"Meaning
that if they try to call her outside your
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