“Elissa, sir.”
Blue eyes the same deep shade as my own lingered on my face until heat crept into my cheeks. There was nothing to do but stand there and wait for him to speak. Our father had yelled when he was angry. Rolund never did. He just stewed in displeasure until he decided on a fitting punishment for whoever had been stupid enough to provoke his ire.
He was going to make me ride in one of the carriages. I darted a look at the wooden contraptions, and my heart sank. They were little more than cages on wheels, with silk panels that made it impossible to see out. Right now, they held thralls bound for Nor Doru. It was no dishonor to ride with them, but my stomach revolted every time I was forced to travel in one of the creaking, rolling conveyances.
I lowered my gaze and awaited my brother’s judgment. In addition to his broadsword, he wore a solstone dagger on his hip.
He rested his hand on the hilt, as if daring me to take offense.
The silence in the courtyard stretched. One of the knights shifted his feet, his sword clinking against his chausses.
At last, Rolund motioned to his men. “Mount up. We leave at once.”
Relief pounded through me—and increased when Treston brought my horse forward.
The squire gave my skirts a skeptical look. “You going to ride sidesaddle all the way to the Rift?”
I hiked my dress to my knees, displaying the leather trousers Helen had made me after Rolund threatened to sell my horse. “If you flash your legs in front of his knights again, your brother is going to have apoplexy.” As it often did, the memory of Helen filled me with a mix of sorrow and joy. This time, the sight of the trousers made me grin.
Treston grinned back. “Clever.”
It took time for everyone to settle and fall in line, but soon we were past the castle gates and winding through the streets of Beldurn. The knights split their column in two so they were closest to the buildings where townspeople had gathered to watch the procession. Rolund and I rode side by side down the center of the street. A line of Green Guards rode just ahead of us, their heads on a swivel as they scanned for threats. The Towers of the Mind and the Heart stretched toward a cloudless blue sky. The morning sun sparkled on the Solgard River, which formed a natural moat around the capital city.
I pulled on leather gloves, then drew my hood over my hair. Immediately, my skin stopped tingling.
Rolund nudged his horse closer to mine. He spoke under his breath as he waved to a group of women and children. “Your cheeks are flushed. You didn’t speak to Elissa. You fed from her.”
My stomach lurched. The accusation came so unexpectedly, I didn’t have a chance to school my features into anything approaching innocence.
My brother met my gaze briefly before focusing on the road. Under his short, dark beard, his jaw clenched. “You flaunt the law right under my nose, Given.” A muscle leapt in his jaw. “And today of all days.”
Misery wrapped around me. If I told him Elissa had ordered it, he would undoubtedly reprimand her. That could only end badly for me.
“You checked on the babe,” he said gruffly.
I looked at his profile. At forty, he was still fit and handsome, his temples barely touched with gray. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Is the child healthy?”
Lies sprang to my lips. It would have been easy to nod and leave it at that. But somehow, I couldn’t do it. Rolund was my brother, but he was also the king. I couldn’t deceive him, even to spare him pain.
He interpreted my silence correctly. “Another stillborn?”
“I…couldn’t say, sir.” Elissa’s blood had tasted like sugar-laced wine—which was how all humans tasted. A healthy pregnancy should have made it too sweet to drink. But I so very rarely took from the vein, I couldn’t tease out nuance. I wasn’t even certain such a thing was possible.
He stopped waving and gripped his reins. His horse tossed its head, obviously sensing his change in mood.
I groped for something appropriate to say. “I’m sorry, Brother. You and Elissa can try again—”
He snapped his head toward me. “As if we haven’t tried a dozen times already.”
My horse shied. Rolund grabbed my reins with a gauntleted hand and spoke in a low, soothing voice. When the beast settled, he released the reins and tossed me a look of disgust. “You speak of things you know nothing about. It’s long past time you were wed. A husband will curb your tongue, sister mine. And your impulses.”
Ice slid down my spine. The excitement I’d started the day with faded to dust. I stared straight ahead, blind to the cheering crowds. I’d known this day was coming. It was, as Rolund said, long overdue. Most noble ladies were wed at seventeen or eighteen. At twenty, I was fortunate to be unencumbered. But my freedom couldn’t last forever. My hand in marriage was political currency. My brother was no fool. He would spend wisely.
We rode in tense silence for a few more minutes. When we passed through the city gates, Rolund sighed. “My apologies, Given. I spoke in haste.”
I tried and failed to keep the stiffness from my voice. “Am I to know the name of the groom before the nuptials, Your Grace?”