he added, without changing his smile or tone.
Adrina turned to Cratyn. “My brother welcomes us, and pledges his life to see us safely to the castle,” she translated calmly, grateful that Vonulus was still back on the ship. Tristan really should learn to be more careful.
Cratyn frowned. “Your brother?”
“Half-brother,” she amended. “Tristan is one of my father’s bastards.”
A shocked gasp escaped Pacifica’s lips at Adrina’s casual remark, a fact that was not lost on Tristan, who was not supposed to understand Karien. He bit back a grin as Cratyn, predictably, blushed crimson.
“Ah, please tell your... captain... that we are honoured,” Cratyn stammered. “Although I hardly think the ride from here to the castle will be life threatening.”
“His Highness appears to be having some difficulty coping with your baseborn status,” she translated.
“His Highness looks like he’s about to burst something. I’ll bet you can’t wait for the wedding. Shall we?” He offered Adrina his arm, which she accepted gracefully, with a smile over her shoulder for her fiance.
They rode in an open carriage up the steep, cobbled streets of Setenton toward the castle. Crowds lined the route to catch a glimpse of the foreigner who would one day be their queen. Adrina smiled and waved. She was born to this, and the Kariens seemed to appreciate her acknowledgment of them. At least the townsfolk did.
After a while, Lady Madren leaned over with a frown. “You must not encourage them, your Highness.”
“Encourage them, my Lady? These are to be my people, are they not? I want them to like me.”
“It doesn’t matter that they like you, your Highness,” Madren said. “Only that they respect and obey you.”
“In Fardohnya we have a saying, my Lady: ‘A king who has the love of his people is harder to kill than one who has their enmity’. Being pleasant costs nothing.”
“It is unseemly, your Highness,” Madren insisted.
“And what of you, Prince Cretin? Don’t you care that the people love you?”
“The people love the Overlord, your Highness. It is His blessing that gives my family the right to rule. What they feel for me is irrelevant.”
“Well, you trust in the Overlord,” she told him. “I’ll just keep smiling and waving. I’m not actually a member of your divinely sanctioned family yet.”
Adrina turned back to the peasants, ignoring Madren’s frown and Cratyn’s despairing look. Tristan glanced back over his shoulder from his position at the head of the Guard and she rolled her eyes at him. He laughed and spurred his horse forward. Adrina had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.
Fardohnya was a nation ruled by a single line of monarchs for a millennium. A thousand years of Fardohnyan kings governed on the principal that a nation that prospered was a nation relatively free of internal unrest. It had proved a sound theory and consequently, little Fardohnyan architecture was designed with defence in mind. Aesthetics was the overriding concern. Besides, if one was wealthy enough, one could hire the best architects to construct fortifications that didn’t constantly remind one of their true purpose.
The Kariens did not subscribe to the Fardohnyan notion of beauty first, usefulness second. Setenton Castle was a fortress and pretended to be nothing else. The walls were thirty paces high and thicker than two men lying end to end, and the courtyard bustled with the panoply of war. Looking around her as she alighted from the carriage in a courtyard crowded with men, horses and the ringing of smiths’ hammers, she wondered if the Medalonian Defenders were as good as their reputation held them to be. She privately hoped they were. Karien was much larger than Medalon, and could overrun the smaller country through sheer weight of numbers, if nothing else.
Hablet needed a drawn-out conflict on the northern border of Medalon. He could not go over the Sunrise Mountains into Hythria with an invasion force, but once on the open plains of Medalon, he could turn south with ease. Of course, the Kariens thought he was planning to attack Medalon to aid their cause. It would not be until they discovered his true destination that his treachery would be revealed. Adrina was not in favour of the plan, mostly because she would be the focus for the Karien’s fury when they realised they had been duped. Her father had advised her to plan an escape route when the news came. He had seemed singularly unconcerned that his plan might cost Adrina her head.
Lord Terbolt greeted them from the steps of his great hall. He was a tall man with hooded brown eyes and a weary expression. But he greeted Cratyn warmly before he turned to Adrina.
“Your Serene Highness,” he said with a small bow. “Welcome to Setenton Castle.”
“Thank you, Lord Terbolt,” she replied graciously. “I hope our presence will not tax your resources unduly. And you have been playing host to my Guard. I trust they have not been a burden to you.”
Terbolt shook his head. “A few language difficulties, your Highness, nothing more. Please, let me have you shown to your rooms. You must be tired, I’m sure, and we men have things to discuss that will not interest you.”
On the contrary, Adrina was vitally interested, but it would be difficult to convince these barbarians that as a woman she might have any idea of politics or war. “Of course, my Lord. Perhaps Tristan might be of help, though? I am sure he could learn something from your discussions and he might be able to offer a new perspective, don’t you think?”
“But he doesn’t speak Karien, your Highness,” Cratyn pointed out, with a rather horrified expression.
“Oh that’s all right, I’ll translate,” she offered brightly. “I’m really not tired, my Lords, and although as Lord Terbolt pointed out, I will no doubt be bored witless by the discussion – we are allies now, are we not? All that I ask is that you not speak too quickly so that I may follow the discussion. Tristan!”
Neither Terbolt nor Cratyn looked pleased by her suggestion, and poor Madren looked ready to faint, but she had left them little choice.
“As you wish, your Highness,” Terbolt conceded with ill grace.
She picked up her skirts and, with Tristan at her side, marched indoors.
“Adrina, does something bother you about these people?” Tristan asked her quietly as they entered the gloom followed by the rest of the entourage. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Terbolt greeting Chastity with all the warmth of a man renewing his acquaintance with a distant relative.
“What do you mean?” she asked as she looked back at him. “They are fools.”
“Maybe. I just wonder if we are the ones being played for fools.”
“You pick a fine time to have second thoughts, Tristan,” she muttered as they walked the length of the rush strewn stone floor. Tall banners, depicting both the sign of the Overlord and the Lord Terbolt’s silver pike on a field of red hung limply from the walls. Presumably the red background was a romantic representation of the muddy Ironbrook. “You were the one who encouraged me to accept this arranged marriage.”
“I know,” he sighed. “I just have this feeling. I can’t define it, but it worries me. Be careful.”
“You’re the one who should be careful. Although, I have it on good authority that provided you confine your attentions to unmarried women, you shouldn’t need to worry about being stoned.”
“It’s going to be a long, cold winter, I fear, Rina.”
He had not called her Rina since they were small children. “You at least have the option of going home someday. I have to spend my life with these people. Not to mention Prince Cretin the Cringing.”
He leaned closer to her and, although speaking Fardohnyan, even if he was overheard, nobody here would understand him. “Look on the bright side. He’ll be off to war in a month or two. With luck the Medalonians with keep him there for years.”
“With luck, they’ll put an arrow through him,” she corrected with a whisper, then turned to her fiance and smiled serenely, every inch the princess.
Cratyn was looking at her with an odd expression. Not dislike, exactly. It was stronger than that. She had a bad feeling it was distaste.
Chapter 14
Tarja returned to the camp late in the day, letting Shadow set her own pace, still brooding over his last
