The Winter King
Page 87
“I’ll take Kori’s lead myself,” Valik said. “The riding ring is a half mile down the mountain.”
She started to object to his leading her down the mountain like an infant, but decided not to push the grumpy Winterman. The prospect of her first riding lesson was the greatest treat she’d ever received. If she had to suffer being leashed to Valik as the price of that treat, so be it.
But suffering his brooding, unfriendly silence the whole way was another matter. She was used to people despising her, but she preferred to know the reason why.
“Is it my Summerlander blood you find so offensive, Lord Valik,” she asked, as they rode, “or do you dislike me on your cousin’s account?”
His expression didn’t change. “Why would I dislike you on Elka’s account? You had nothing to do with her choices.”
“I wasn’t talking about the cousin who ran off with my brother. I was talking about Reika, the one who’s set her cap for my husband.”
That put a crack in his stony expression. Valik’s brows shot up. He gave a bark of disbelieving laughter and looked at her like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Reika has no interest in Wynter.”
She barely kept her jaw from dropping. “Of course she’s interested. I’ll wager she’s wanted him since the first day she met him.”
“You’re daft, Summerlander.”
“No, but you are blind, Winterman. Good gods.” She shook her head. “Who knew men of the north were so easy to deceive?”
Valik’s expression went sharp as a razor and hard as stone. The deadly promise of lethal force emanated from every pore, and his eyes were cold enough to freeze the marrow in her bones. “We are not so easily duped, Summerlander. And as your countrymen learned to their woe, we deal severely with those who try.”
“Ah, so that’s it. You think I’m involved in some plot against the king.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Anyone who knew her in the slightest—well, any clear-thinking someone, at least—would never contemplate such a ridiculous charge. “In case you haven’t noticed, subtleties are not my forte. When I wish someone harm, they storming well know it.”
Valik cast a quick glance at the cloudless sky before saying, “So, you’re an innocent, are you? As honest as the day is long? It was not you pretending to be your sister Autumn, the Season my king thought he was taking to wife?”
She bit her lip. “I never lied. Wynter wanted a Summerlea princess to wife, and he got one. If he neither named the specific princess he wanted—nor lifted my veil to discover which one he was getting—how is that my fault?”
Valik’s eyes narrowed. “Lady, you wed and bed my king full-knowing he thought you were another—then say you did nothing wrong—yet you wonder why I consider you as low and untrustworthy as the rest of your kin? What would your father have done, had he found himself so cheated?”
Color stained Kham’s cheeks. Verdan would likely have separated his bride’s head from her shoulders, then declared war on her kin.
“Exactly,” Valik snapped, reading her answer on her face. “Wynter Atrialan possesses more honor in his little finger than your entire family combined, and I will never forget how you used that honor against him. Nor do I intend to let you do so again.”
He tossed Kori’s lead line to one of the other guards and spurred his mount forward, moving as far up ahead as the lead line would allow. An uncomfortable silence descended. Kham glanced at the others. To a man, they wore blank expressions and kept their gazes fixed straight ahead.
Bron tapped his heels to his mount’s side and moved up to the spot Valik had vacated. In a friendly, conversational tone clearly meant to end the awkward silence, he said, “I’m curious that you’ve never ridden before, my lady. The ladies of your father’s court do not ride?”
She forced a smile. “They do, but I was never part of my father’s court. He hated me even more than Lord Valik does.”
Bron winced. “Forgive me. I do not mean to pry.”
“No need to apologize. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it.” She would never forget or forgive what Verdan had done to her, but from the moment that carriage had carried her past the Stone Knights guarding the gates of Vera Sola, the Summer King had lost the power to hurt her. “My mother’s nurse raised me in a remote part of the palace and educated me to the best of her ability, but since I wasn’t allowed to leave the palace, I never learned to ride. I confess I’m quite looking forward to it. Other than the journey here, this is the greatest adventure of my life.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to make the lessons enjoyable.”
True to Bron’s word, once they reached the riding ring, the lesson was one of the most pleasant experiences of her life, if, perhaps, a little too tame and too short for her liking. Khamsin learned how to mount and dismount, position her feet in the stirrups, and hold the reins. Bron led Kori around the ring on the lead line until he was satisfied Khamsin had gotten the hang of what he taught her. Then he unclipped the chain and let her walk the horse around the ring on her own. The mare, Kori, was a dream: sweet-natured, obedient, and responsive. Khamsin was eager to go on to the second gait, the trot, when Valik declared the lesson was at an end.
“Bron has plenty of work waiting for him at the palace, as do the rest of us.”
“Oh, but—”
She started to object to his leading her down the mountain like an infant, but decided not to push the grumpy Winterman. The prospect of her first riding lesson was the greatest treat she’d ever received. If she had to suffer being leashed to Valik as the price of that treat, so be it.
But suffering his brooding, unfriendly silence the whole way was another matter. She was used to people despising her, but she preferred to know the reason why.
“Is it my Summerlander blood you find so offensive, Lord Valik,” she asked, as they rode, “or do you dislike me on your cousin’s account?”
His expression didn’t change. “Why would I dislike you on Elka’s account? You had nothing to do with her choices.”
“I wasn’t talking about the cousin who ran off with my brother. I was talking about Reika, the one who’s set her cap for my husband.”
That put a crack in his stony expression. Valik’s brows shot up. He gave a bark of disbelieving laughter and looked at her like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Reika has no interest in Wynter.”
She barely kept her jaw from dropping. “Of course she’s interested. I’ll wager she’s wanted him since the first day she met him.”
“You’re daft, Summerlander.”
“No, but you are blind, Winterman. Good gods.” She shook her head. “Who knew men of the north were so easy to deceive?”
Valik’s expression went sharp as a razor and hard as stone. The deadly promise of lethal force emanated from every pore, and his eyes were cold enough to freeze the marrow in her bones. “We are not so easily duped, Summerlander. And as your countrymen learned to their woe, we deal severely with those who try.”
“Ah, so that’s it. You think I’m involved in some plot against the king.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Anyone who knew her in the slightest—well, any clear-thinking someone, at least—would never contemplate such a ridiculous charge. “In case you haven’t noticed, subtleties are not my forte. When I wish someone harm, they storming well know it.”
Valik cast a quick glance at the cloudless sky before saying, “So, you’re an innocent, are you? As honest as the day is long? It was not you pretending to be your sister Autumn, the Season my king thought he was taking to wife?”
She bit her lip. “I never lied. Wynter wanted a Summerlea princess to wife, and he got one. If he neither named the specific princess he wanted—nor lifted my veil to discover which one he was getting—how is that my fault?”
Valik’s eyes narrowed. “Lady, you wed and bed my king full-knowing he thought you were another—then say you did nothing wrong—yet you wonder why I consider you as low and untrustworthy as the rest of your kin? What would your father have done, had he found himself so cheated?”
Color stained Kham’s cheeks. Verdan would likely have separated his bride’s head from her shoulders, then declared war on her kin.
“Exactly,” Valik snapped, reading her answer on her face. “Wynter Atrialan possesses more honor in his little finger than your entire family combined, and I will never forget how you used that honor against him. Nor do I intend to let you do so again.”
He tossed Kori’s lead line to one of the other guards and spurred his mount forward, moving as far up ahead as the lead line would allow. An uncomfortable silence descended. Kham glanced at the others. To a man, they wore blank expressions and kept their gazes fixed straight ahead.
Bron tapped his heels to his mount’s side and moved up to the spot Valik had vacated. In a friendly, conversational tone clearly meant to end the awkward silence, he said, “I’m curious that you’ve never ridden before, my lady. The ladies of your father’s court do not ride?”
She forced a smile. “They do, but I was never part of my father’s court. He hated me even more than Lord Valik does.”
Bron winced. “Forgive me. I do not mean to pry.”
“No need to apologize. I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it.” She would never forget or forgive what Verdan had done to her, but from the moment that carriage had carried her past the Stone Knights guarding the gates of Vera Sola, the Summer King had lost the power to hurt her. “My mother’s nurse raised me in a remote part of the palace and educated me to the best of her ability, but since I wasn’t allowed to leave the palace, I never learned to ride. I confess I’m quite looking forward to it. Other than the journey here, this is the greatest adventure of my life.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to make the lessons enjoyable.”
True to Bron’s word, once they reached the riding ring, the lesson was one of the most pleasant experiences of her life, if, perhaps, a little too tame and too short for her liking. Khamsin learned how to mount and dismount, position her feet in the stirrups, and hold the reins. Bron led Kori around the ring on the lead line until he was satisfied Khamsin had gotten the hang of what he taught her. Then he unclipped the chain and let her walk the horse around the ring on her own. The mare, Kori, was a dream: sweet-natured, obedient, and responsive. Khamsin was eager to go on to the second gait, the trot, when Valik declared the lesson was at an end.
“Bron has plenty of work waiting for him at the palace, as do the rest of us.”
“Oh, but—”
