Page 68 of King's Warrior

Uri shouted, “C’mon Quil! You’re being slow.”

Quillan clicked his tongue, urging his pony faster until he caught up with his brother.

Was it wrong to get to know the princes when Rufe’s time among them might be short? They rode a path near the castle through a field he could imagine covered in wildflowers come spring—a sight he wouldn’t be here to witness. The scent of pineand the crispness he associated with coming snow hung in the air. What a beautiful place, so different from the hills back home. The people here spoke with a gentle burr to their voices, adding a nearly musical quality.

Wedgeworth spoke to a guard while riding, leaning in at times. Sharing confidences? The young woman smiled brightly. Were they flirting?

Uri dropped back, even with Rufe. “I like riding,” he said. “I don’t have to watch my manners or wear scratchy clothes.”

Rufe would’ve agreed at six. “That’s a fine pony you have there.”

“This is Herix.” Uri leaned forward to pat the pony’s neck.

“Why Herix?”

“’Cause she likes to get out, and the stable master said she’s always halfway to Herix before he catches her.”

“How else do you spend your time?”

Uri sighed. “Study lessons, meet boring people, and visit Grandmother when I can. I don’t have to watch my manners with her either. And I can say whatever I want to.”

Rufe felt the same about Nera. “Do you ever go other places?”

Uri shook his head. “I have to stay here at the castle. Father goes places, but I don’t.” He released a put-upon sigh.

Right now, the political climate might be too dangerous, but once matters settled, Rufe would speak with Yarif about his younger siblings and inviting Niam’s sons for a visit.

A whistle sounded ahead.

One guard galloped toward them, snatching Uri off his pony. Rufe wheeled Princess, drawing his sword in one smooth motion.

The soldier pulled Uri to his chest, giving Rufe a raised brow inquiry. “Trouble ahead. We must return as quickly as possible.” He raced away with Uri.

Another guard galloped past with a white-faced Quillan, Wedgeworth right behind. A third soldier led the ponies.

Rufe fell in beside the last guard, riding at a fast trot. “What happened?”

“Two riders, hidden at the edge of the woods. They appear to be waiting.” The guard glanced down at Rufe’s drawn sword and then at Vihaan’s, giving a decisive nod. “It's nice to have extra protection for the princes.”

How good of him not to think the two riders were with Rufe.

Rufe slid from the back of his mule and handed the reins to the guard. “I want to take a look. Please return Princess to the stables.” He disappeared into the trees before the guard could answer, back the way they’d been riding. The guards had orders to protect the princes by whisking them away. Rufe didn’t. There was more than one way to keep them safe.

The whistle came from ahead, with the strange riders farther beyond. Rufe kept low, placing his feet carefully to minimize noise. There. Two riders in black, on black horses, so likely local, with no need to navigate treacherous ground. If they’d heard the mules galloping away, they showed no concern.

A third horse approached from the other direction, stopping at the other two. Though the men spoke quietly, Rufe understood a word or two. Craician.

His blood ran cold.“How lucky for you that you might be worth more to us alive than dead.”What were Craicians doing here?

The newcomer maneuvered his horse back the way he’d come, bearing no markings or colors to indicate his identity. The other two riders bled back into the forest. Rufe didn’t know one, but he knew the other too well. A man who’d once barged into Rufe’s sick room.

Lord Whreyn.

Chapter Twenty-five

Rufe’s afternoon grew very busy. The guards from the riding session gathered in Niam’s office, along with Eoghan, Willem, Niam, and Rufe. The moment he had solid evidence against Eoghan, Rufe would throw him in a cell.

“They spoke Craician,” he said for the tenth time.

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