Tieran looked astonished, and he did not bother to hide it. “You cannot be serious. I know Rezkin would do pretty much anything to make you happy.”
Frisha nodded slowly. “Yes, but I’m beginning to think he does it because he thinks he has to for some reason.” She fingered her scarf and said, “He gave this to me when we first met. I thought it was a courting gift. Now that I know him better, I think he just didn’t want me to get cold.”
Tieran furrowed his brow. “That is the point of a scarf.”
Frisha huffed. “I know, but I don’t think he did it because he cared. I think it was just practical.”
“I am not convinced, Frisha. He went to a lot of trouble to get the peerage—especially me—to accept you. You probably have no clue what he has done for you.”
“No, I probably don’t, but you said he wants me to be happy. What if I am not happy with him?”
Tieran was at a loss. “How can you not be happy with him? He is … everything. He can be everything. Whatever you want him to do, he can do it.”
“Can he love me?”
“What difference does it make? You were never guaranteed love. Nobles do not have the luxury of love. I will not have love.”
She turned to stare across the bowl at the mountains beyond. “But we are no longer in Ashai. We are not bound by the rules of Ashaiian society. Rezkin makes the rules. Rezkin wants us to be happy.”
Tieran spun, exasperated, and waved his arms as he spoke. His emotions began to erupt. “It is not so simple, Frisha. We are going back to Ashai. I have a responsibility to Wellinven. You will be married to Rezkin or whomever Marcum chooses. Rezkin will be king. Everything will return to normal.”
“Do you really think that? We stand here, in a magical kingdom across the sea while war rages in Ashai. Do you really think anything will go back to normal?”
“Yes! —It will! —It must!”
His outburst was punctuated by a horn blast from the docks. Tieran took several deep breaths and then turned back toward the palace.
“Tieran—”
“What?”
Catching up to him, she said, “You won’t tell him, will you?”
He met her gaze. His look carried as much turmoil as she felt. “No. Surely it is only cold feet. It is normal. You will come to your senses.”
The chill slid over Rezkin’s skin as soon as he had passed the corveua, and now that he was on the dock, he could feel it seeping deeper into his flesh and muscles. It was not the biting, frigid cold of winter, but rather the soothing, cool embrace of a pool on a warm summer day. He felt relaxed, like he had returned … home. He immediately checked the stone hanging from his neck, and it was still in place. After a quick test, he realized it was still protecting him from the worst of the calming effect.
His people had come to greet the ship, as usual. Many prepared to mount a defense in case the peaceful arrival was a ruse and the ship had truly been captured by insurgents. Rezkin realized that in the several weeks he had been absent, they had been afforded plenty of time to plot against him. He furtively scanned the faces around him, careful not to give away any clues that he might suspect betrayal. For each individual, he calculated the odds that he or she might want to do him harm, and two of the greatest threats approached him first.
Tieran bowed, and said, “King Rezkin, I am pleased that you have returned and appear to be well.”
Rezkin studied Tieran. Did his cousin appear different from when he had left? He knew the display had been for the crowd’s benefit, but were the words sincere? He doubted it could be so simple. At Tieran’s side stood Frisha. She was wearing a dress, the loose skirt having enough fabric for her to easily hide a number of weapons. Was the green scarf over her head supposed to be a distraction? She smiled at him. Was it genuine? He thought he saw uncertainty in her gaze.
“King Rezkin, I, too, am glad to see you,” she said as she performed a practiced curtsy.
Rezkin glanced at Tieran. He knew the other nobles had been working with her on her speech and language. The greeting was more formal than she would normally have given him, and it did not sound sincere. The stone on his chest heated, and his head began to clear of a fog he had not realized was present. He blinked at the two, his cousin and his … betrothed? Again, he saw the uncertainty. He shook his head. It was apparent he was having another episode. He had nearly forgotten about them since he had not had one the entire time he had been gone from the island. It was a concerning revelation. His friends exchanged looks and shifted uncomfortably. He realized he had not yet greeted them, and everyone was waiting. He smiled.
“Greetings, Cousin,” he said to Tieran. “Frisha, you look well. I trust all has been calm in my absence?”
“Oh, yes,” Frisha said. “You will love the new programs we have implemented.”
“You have implemented programs?” he said.
Tieran donned a cocky grin. “My hybridization project has produced promising results, and Frisha has negotiated a warrior training program.”
Rezkin looked to Frisha. “You started a warrior training program?”
She lifted her chin and said, “What? You do not think I am capable? I recognize what you want for this kingdom, and I can help make it happen.”
“Are you a part of this program?” he said.
“I am … sort of. I am trying, anyway. Actually, everyone is required to attend basic lessons. There are incentives for reaching advanced levels.”
“And who is teaching these lessons?”
“That is being us,” said a booming voice that echoed through the warehouse to the dock.
Just as the Eastern Mountains men approached, a black and brown fur ball shot past, scurrying between their legs.
Tieran said, “You took your cat with you?”
“No,” said Frisha. “I have been feeding his cat. Where did that one come from?”
Gurrell and his men saluted Rezkin with a fist across the heart. “We teach the ways of the Eastern Mountains, a tribute from the Viergnacht Tribe to the people of our chieftain. Cael will be a great warrior kingdom!”
Rezkin’s gazed passed over the two mountain men standing behind their leader and then came to rest on Gurrell. The man was a leader in his own right, and he had ample time while Rezkin was away to gain influence with the nobles and mages. He had obviously won over Frisha, somehow convincing her to allow him to train the people. What insidious betrayal was he planning?
Kai stalked by leading Pride from the ship as he grumbled about the ornery beast. The horse chomped its teeth and snorted at the striker as if it could understand. A flick of its tail lashed Rezkin’s hand, jarring his thoughts from the murky fog that had silently invaded his mind. Inhaling sharply, he tilted his head to stretch the muscles tensing in his neck. He pushed the paranoid thoughts away, recognizing that Gurrell had never appeared to covet power.
“Excellent,” he said. “The people of Cael are honored by your generous gift.”
Gurrell and his men grunted in unison, a gruff, celebratory cheer. “If you are wanting to witness the training, we are meeting in the central square an hour after midday meal.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I have little time.”
Frisha’s eyes widened as the others disembarked, each leading a horse or two. “You brought horses?”
Brandt said, “Not just any horses. These are Gendishen reds. We stole them from the army.”
“You did what?”
Brandt grinned. “Not to worry, Frisha. They no longer needed them since they were all dead.”
Malcius punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Brandt. Why would you tell her that?”
Brandt looked at his friend. “You have completely lost the speck of humor you once had. Besides, she is going to hear the story. Not even you would keep it to yourself. We have war stories, Malcius. Real war stories.”
Tieran said, “I thought you were going on a diplomatic mission to speak with the king.”
Brandt grinned. “We did, but we had to destroy a double cavalry patrol and a horde of drauglics to get there.”