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“Stand down,” I told my men. I sheathed my sword and spurred my horse forward, moving down the rows of knights. When I was past the carriage, I reined in and leveled a look at a bedraggled Jordan of Twyl.

“Brother Jordan. What an unexpected pleasure.”

“The Lord favors—” He clamped his mouth shut, his wind-reddened cheeks going a shade darker. “General.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you were traveling to your family’s estate in the north.”

I stayed silent, my gloved hands resting on my pommel.

If possible, he flushed harder. “Well, um, you might remember I swore an oath to serve you.”

“I remember.”

He cast his gaze over the carriage and the assembled knights. He swallowed hard as his eyes settled back on me. “As your sworn man, my place is by your side, my lord. I would ride with you to Lar Keiren.”

The wind picked up, turning the snow into tiny daggers that pelted every inch of exposed skin. The tip of Jordan’s nose was red. His dark curls were plastered to his head. He wore the robes of the Brotherhood, the rough fabric flapping about his legs.

I nudged my horse forward until the beast stood alongside his. My knee brushed his robes. He peered up at me with wide blue eyes that held more than a little uncertainty and a healthy dose of fear. Snow dusted his lashes.

I grunted. “Some Wesyfeddan you are, dressed for a stroll in Beldurn.”

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “I rushed from the palace… I didn’t prepare for the journey.”

“Obviously.”

He gave me a hopeful look. “So I can come?”

“I can hardly send you back.” I lowered my voice. “What do you seek at Lar Keiren? And don’t even think about lying to me.”

He had the good grace to look sheepish. “Your family’s castle is rumored to house some of the oldest books in the kingdom. I wouldn’t mind taking a look. But even without the library, I’d still want to go with you. I swear it on my oath.”

His words held the ring—and scent—of truth. Having him along might prove amusing. His presence could be a distraction from the monotony of the road—and my wayward thoughts.

“I’m not traveling the length of the kingdom with a male in a dress,” I said gruffly. Just as his face fell, I added, “One of the younger squires probably has something you can borrow. A pair of britches, at least. Have you ever seen a frostbitten scrotum, Brother Jordan?”

He blanched. “No, my lord.”

“I assure you, it’s possible to freeze your balls off in a non-metaphorical way. I doubt you want to experience it firsthand.”

“Nor anything close to it,” he said weakly. He shifted in the saddle, like he was reassuring himself his parts were still intact.

I nodded. “We’ll go for another few hours before we make camp. You’re welcome to ride in the carriage with the women.”

He squared his shoulders. “I prefer horseback, my lord.”

I hid a smile. I hadn’t meant to insult his manhood. But apologizing would only make it worse, so I kept my mouth shut.

I turned and made eye contact with one of my captains. The big male rode forward at once. His gaze roved over Jordan, but he kept his expression neutral as he pulled his horse to a halt.

“Yes, General?” Snow dusted his shoulders and lodged in the crevices of the night-blooming rose on his breastplate.

“Brother Jordan will be making the journey with us. He needs something warmer to wear.”

“Consider it done.”

As the captain rode off, Jordan offered me a shy smile, a hint of dimple appearing. “Thank you, my lord. You won’t regret this.”

I wheeled my horse around. “Perhaps not.” The wind whistled sharply, sending a gust of white powder into the air. “But you might.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

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