Nobody is paying us much attention right now.
Aderick has gone to bed. Kastel and Garan have migrated to another table to play cards with a bunch of soldiers. My father has retired to his quarters. Vinciel slipped away as soon as he had a chance, muttering something about how social gatherings were the devil and stating that he much preferred to be up in his tower with a book. Kaithar and the other high-ranking soldiers—Kyron, Galaen, Ingvar, and Renfrei, if I remember correctly—are huddled together, deep in some terribly serious conversation.
“Let me rephrase that. What would you like to do now, Finley? Just tell me, and I will oblige.”
A hundred possibilities flit through my mind, some carnal.
I don’t dare. I’m not quite ready for that.
But there’s one thing I’ve been trying to do for days, and I keep getting thwarted. “I want to take a walk outside. To the stables.”
He chuckles softly. “Not what I would have predicted, but I’ll humor you. My lady.” He gets up from his chair and holds out his hand.
I slip my fingers into his as I rise. A hundred eyes flick toward us, but Corvan pays them no heed.
“Leaving already, Your Highness?” Kaithar is grinning.
“It’s been a pleasure as always, gentlemen.” Corvan tips his head in acknowledgement. He’s effortlessly regal. “Enjoy your night, lads.”
Kaithar rises to his feet. The others follow suit, bowing deeply. “Lady Solisar.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I’ll never get used to people bowing for me. “I’ve enjoyed your company this evening. I appreciate all your efforts to make me feel welcome.”
Corvan smiles enigmatically and leads me through the throng. People part like reeds bowing before the wind.
For one surreal, unnerving moment, silence falls across the room.
Corvan moves silently, as if gliding across the floor. The lamplight casts a golden glow upon his wintry visage. As he leads me away, his hand in mine is gentle and insistent, but never forceful.
It’s as if he’s standing on top of a mountain, all alone. I understand it now… a little. There’s a great chasm between him and his men, and he can never go back.
I hold his hand tightly and walk just a little bit closer.
It feels like an eternity until we reach the large doors at the end of the great hall. Corvan tips his head in acknowledgement as he draws me toward the exit. He doesn’t say a word as we depart; quietly, elegantly, hundreds of eyes upon us.
The door closes behind us with a soft click, drowning out the noise.
I look at him in surprise. “You didn’t address them. Isn’t that what the lord of the castle is supposed to do?”
“Sometimes, the less that’s said, the better. I don’t have to justify my existence or try to explain the unexplainable. That in itself can arouse unnecessary suspicion. Better to just be, and let my actions do the talking. Sometimes, I just let Kaithar smooth things out. The bastard has a way with words when he chooses.”
“He’s a good friend to you,” I say softly, marvelling at the bond between the two men. It’s a strange thing for me to witness; men that remain steadfast in their brotherhood despite their differences. Maybe Aderick, Kastel, and Garan could be like that with time, but they’re still learning how to be men; they haven’t been hardened in the fires of war.
“You will find none more loyal than Kaith. I’d trust him with my life, and yours. And I would lay down my own life for him. But enough with the heartfelt confessions. I promised you a visit to the stables, so if you please, my lady.” Corvan holds out his arm.
We walk down long, warmly lit corridors. Past empty rooms and darkened windows. Tyron castle is vast. We walk in silence. It isn’t an awkward or hostile silence. We’re simply together, lost in our own private thoughts, and his big, reassuring presence is rather… companionable.
How can this be?
As we leave the main castle, Corvan materializes a black fur coat from a closet somewhere. It’s much too big for me—his, presumably—but he drapes it around my shoulders all the same, providing me with a sumptuous cocoon as we step out into the cold night.
It’s started to snow.
He’s only wearing his formal suit.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“I’m not as bothered by the cold as I used to be.” Corvan leads me across the cobblestones, through the lightly falling snow. The sane part of me wonders if it’s a good idea to be following a blood-drinking vampire into a dark courtyard in the middle of the night, but I figure that if he wanted to do anything untoward to me, he would have done it already.
He has done it already.
Besides, this was my idea.
We walk, passing buildings upon buildings until a familiar scent fills my nostrils. It’s the smell of hay and manure and feed and horse.
Excitement swirls through me. I’ve always found comfort in the presence of horses. When Ruen castle felt cold and joyless, I’d steal away to the stables and spend time amongst the horses.
The stables of Tyron castle are at least five times bigger than the ones in Ruen. The building is more sturdy too, constructed from stone rather than wood. A proper stable. Corvan pushes open a heavy wooden door and leads me inside.
Suddenly, we’re surrounded by warhorses; big, intimidating steeds that could easily crush a man to death. Their coats range in hue from dappled to glossy black. They nicker and snort nervously as Corvan passes.
“Relax, I’m not going to bother you,” he mutters softly. “Normally, they’d be a lot more agitated by my presence. I don’t know why they’re calmer tonight. Maybe because you’re here. You know, I used to be a pretty good rider, but there’s no way one of these cranky old warhorses would accept me now. I think you can hazard a guess as to why. Is there anything in particular you wanted to see here, Finley?”
“One horse. The one I was riding when I…” Heat rises into my cheeks. “When I first met you.”
“Ah. Kinnivar did mention something about finding a stray horse in the woods. A miracle it survived, really. Do you see him, Finley?”
“He’s a brown quarter-horse. A bit underfed.” I peer into the dimly lit stables. In a stall at the very end, a familiar looking head emerges over the gate. “Ah, there he is.” I momentarily forget Corvan and rush toward the horse. He stretches his neck, nickering softly in greeting. “Good boy. I’m so glad you’re alive.” I reach out and give him a good neck rub.
Corvan remains a good distance away. “I don’t want to spook him, Horses are sensitive creatures. They’re good judges of character. He’s yours, if you would like him. The stablemasters will fatten him up and make sure he’s properly groomed. When the snows thaw, you can take him riding in the woods.”
“I… I’d like that. And I’d like to come down sometimes and groom him myself.”