Page 151 of Bride of Ice
Apparently, Isabel had noted the resemblance as well. That couldn’t be good. She feigned ignorance. “Who?”
Isabel elbowed her. “You know who. Colban.”
Hallie tensed her jaw. “Don’t be ridiculous. It onlylookedlike him.” She said it more to convince herself than her sister.
“I’m telling you, ’twas him, and I’m going to go find—”
“Nay!” Hallie said sharply. “Jenefer needs you to help set up the stage for Ian.”
Isabel let out a peeved sigh. “Fine.”
Isabel knew she had an important responsibility. Ian had created dozens of birds out of parchment, and he planned to make them fly. His spectacle would start an afternoon of entertainments—minstrels, players, dancers, and jugglers. It was Isabel’s duty to usher the performers to and from the stage.
Besides, Hallie knew her little sister. If Isabel thought The One had returned, she’d blather it all over the castle within the hour and put Colban in mortal danger.
Then Hallie corrected herself. Colban couldn’t be put in danger, because he wasn’t actually at Creagor. It had only been someone wholookedlike Colban.
Still, the last thing she needed on this already chaotic day was for Isabel to stir up trouble. Even a reminder that her husband’s murderer hadn’t been caught yet could ruin the merry mood.
Colban cursed silently. Hallie had spotted him. He should have realized she might recognize him, even in a hooded cloak. He’d have to be more careful.
Still, as he slipped away through the crowd, he thought it had been worth the risk.
Hallie had been even more lovely than he remembered. Standing in the morning sunlight of the archery range like a goddess of the hunt, she’d fired off her three arrows with fierce concentration. Then she’d turned to her cousin Jenefer with a toss of her pale braid, a brilliant smile, and a friendly challenge in her bright eyes.
Colban’s heart had flipped over at the sight. Until that moment, he hadn’t fully realized how much he missed the enchanting Valkyrie. His last glimpse of her had been at the crannog, pale and shivering with frost and fear and rage. That had been the memory lodged in his brain.
Now it seemed the spring had thawed that memory. Like the snowdrops gracing the hills above Creagor, she took his breath away with her stunning beauty. Long blonde tresses as soft and sleek as silk. Rosy lips that he remembered tasted as sweet as they looked. A body that was strong and womanly at the same time.
But he’d flown too close to the sun. His gaze had lingered a moment too long. She’d caught him.
Perhaps he’d escaped soon enough. Perhaps she hadn’t recognized him and had only been intrigued by the sight of a hooded stranger in the crowd.
He ducked into the shade of a curtain wall buttress. From this vantage point, he could safely survey most of the courtyard. Members of the mac Giric clan passed to and fro without spotting him. He recognized a few Rivenloch faces, as well as knights with whom he’d competed in recent tournaments.
Along the curtain wall, merchants hawked their wares, patrons counted out silver, and children played hide-and-seek.
Meanwhile, a wooden stage was being erected on the archery range. He wondered what sort of entertainments were planned. Certainly nothing to rival Isabel’s play with the fire-breathing dragon.
Colban caught a passing youth and paid him to fetch an ale. Then he
settled into the shadows, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed to watch.
He smiled. From the middle of the field, Isabel directed a pair of burly lads in assembling the trestles, collected a few dozen colorfully dressed performers, and assigned her bevy of lasses to tend to their needs. She was in her element, calling out commands and herding people with the skill of a shepherd’s dog.
When the spectators surrounded the stage, Colban saw Ian for the first time. As the lad mounted the steps, he seemed, impossibly, to look taller than Colban remembered. But then the last time he’d seen Ian, it was as a vulnerable victim in the hands of a monster.
He hoped the lad would one day forgive him for what he’d done. But at least Colban could be confident in the knowledge that the brutish Archibald Scott had never laid a hand on Ian. Nor would he ever.
Ian hefted a large basket onto the stage. Colban wasn’t close enough to hear Ian’s words, but the audience responded with cheers of enthusiasm.
Pulling the hood closer about his face, Colban pushed off the wall. Melting into the crowd, he made his way forward to get a better look.
The lad plucked a bright yellow object from the basket and held it high above his head. Then he gently pitched his arm forward, and the thing…flew.
The crowd gasped. Colban furrowed his brows. Was it a bird? It sailed smoothly over the heads of the assembly as they dodged aside to let it pass. Finally it drifted down to earth.
No sooner had it landed than Ian fired off another. This one was vivid red and smaller, and he threw it with more force.
