Page 82 of Sweetling
Allarion swung up behind her, arms going round her to take hold of the loose reins looped around Bellarand’s head. They were more for something to hold onto rather than to lead—the unicorn went where he pleased.
Molly settled back into Allarion’s wide chest, humming contentedly to feel his firm form. She might’ve entertained ideas of a little seduction if she didn’t know the surly unicorn would buck her off immediately for it.
Bellarand started forward, and Molly leaned around Allarion to wave one last time at the house. All the shutters on the front façade swung in farewell.
“Do you think the house will be terribly lonely?” she asked.
“Most likely.”
Allarion got a pouting frown for that. She already felt terrible for leaving the house all alone. As she’d sat embroidering, Molly made sure to explain at length to the house that they weren’t leaving for good like its last family had, that it was only for a few days.
I think it will enjoy the time alone,Bellarand mused.Finally, it will have some peace and quiet.
Molly knew exactly where this was going. “Idon’tsound like an orc going to battle stomping down the stairs! I don’t stomp at all!”
Those of us with sensitive ears would disagree.
“Overgrown pony.”
Tone-deaf titmouse.
Allarion sighed mightily.
Her second ride through the countryside was far more pleasant than her first. Without the weight of dread and the night descending on her, Molly was able to enjoy the rolling landscapes of the Darrowlands. She admired the grassy knolls and shimmering brooks. It was too late in the season for wildflowers, but a few trees still had their autumn colors.
“They are your colors,” Allarion remarked as she gushed over a handful of orange, yellow, and red leaves.
Molly blushed. “A little less dramatic than red and purple, to be sure.”
“Less severe,” he amended, “and warmer.”
Oddly charmed by the strange compliment, Molly tipped her face up and got the kiss she wanted. And she only yelled at Bellarand a little bit for jostling them when the kissing went on awhile.
They stopped a few times to allow her to stretch her legs and get a bite to eat, but Molly didn’t want to be the one to make them late and so hurried through her stretching and snacking.
Allarion smiled gently from atop the unicorn as she shook to get the blood back to her lower extremities. “You will grow used to it,” he assured her.
Molly decided not to argue—or point out that practice would require cooperation from Bellarand. Allarion pulled her up onto the unicorn’s back when she was ready, and they set off again as the morning eased into afternoon.
When she realized she recognized the path and nearby hills, nerves began to pinch her middle. Not long after, they rounded a hillock to find the grand silhouette of Dundúran spread out before them on the banks of the Shanago River.
Molly couldn’t help how her breath hitched to see the city again. She hadn’t been away terribly long, but it still felt like a lifetime. So much had changed. It was a new perspective, to approach the city from the north, on the back of a big unicorn.
They entered from the north gate, passing beneath the teeth of the drawn portcullis. Bellarand’s hooves clipped on the pavedstreets as they climbed toward the castle, nestled in the heart of the city.
Through it all, curious eyes followed them, the hubbub of the city shushing at the sight of the fae and unicorn—and woman riding with them. She was suddenly grateful she’d taken Allarion up on borrowing one of his cloaks; the fur collar provided warmth on their ride while the draping velvet and silk suited Bellarand far more than her brown wool coat.
At least in the cloak, she looked a little less like the odd one out.
Molly tried to keep her head high and her gaze forward, but she didn’t think she imagined hearing her name as they rode past. Folk flocked from the squares and public houses to see the sight of a fae and unicorn. Although Allarion and Bellarand weren’t strangers to the city, before their coming to the Darrowlands, the sight of any otherly folk had been exceedingly rare.
She couldn’t truly blame the crowd—Allarion did cut a regal figure.
She would’ve been proud to see so many gawking at him in awe had those eyes not then turned onto her. Confused frowns darkened the wonder at seeing a fae and unicorn as people puzzled out who rode with them.
Her stomach churned the longer they rode, so when the castle gates came into view, Molly sucked in a breath of relief. They passed under another portcullis, the guards on either side bowing their heads in respect to Allarion.
The wide courtyard of the castle spread before them, not nearly as full as the day of Lady Aislinn’s wedding, but still plenty crowded. Many of the demesne’s landholders had come, and most had brought a retinue. The decorative poplars, flowerbeds, and statuary were almost hidden behind the crowds of servants, officials, and knights. Some stood chatting while others hurried about on business.
