Her first step was to cry, quite convincingly, on Madren’s shoulder about her inability to arouse her husband. Madren, of all her retinue, was the most suspicious and the most watchful. Adrina blamed herself, of course and almost choked when Madren delivered her stiff and rather unimaginative suggestions on how to deal with the situation. As she had made certain that the servants would overhear her heartbroken confession, within a day the news was all through the castle. Tamylan reported that the kitchens were abuzz with rumours and that even the stableboys had heard. By the time their vast caravan left Yarnarrow there was not a man or woman in the castle, serf or noble, who had not heard the rumour that Cratyn’s manhood was in doubt.
The effect such rumours had on Chastity was predictable. The girl was torn between horror that her love might be impotent and delight that he had not slept with Adrina. That the pale skinned blonde lusted after Cratyn was so obvious, Adrina wondered that she hadn’t been hauled off and stoned for her adulterous thoughts. On the other hand, there was many a duke who would have preferred a Karien queen, and Adrina wondered if she would survive the birth of a son, should she be so foolish as to conceive. A claimant to the Fardohnyan throne did not need a Fardohnyan mother to raise him, and everybody knew how perilous childbirth could be.
Adrina refused to give any of these fanatics an opportunity to rearrange the world to their liking. She would suffer the humiliation of Cratyn only coming to her rooms when she was likely to conceive; she would tolerate Madren’s hawk-like scrutiny and Vonulus’ pious instruction. She would bear King Jasnoff’s obvious distaste and Queen Aringard’s sour disapproval. She would even put up with the miserable Karien weather.
Until she found a way out of this mess, Adrina didn’t really have much choice.
Tristan was predicably unhappy about being ordered to the border, but as she had promised Cratyn she would not speak to him alone, she had not had the chance to explain it to him before they left Yarnarrow. In fact, getting a message to Tristan became more and more important as they drew closer to the border. She was afraid he would do something reckless. He knew the terms of the agreement under which he and his soldiers were in Karien, and knew that she was flying in the face of Hablet’s express wishes by ordering her Guard to the front.
Hablet wanted the Hythrun so involved in the Medalon conflict that they would not notice the direction his army was heading when then crossed the southern border of Medalon. Loaning her Guard to Cratyn to ensure a quick victory in the north was not liable to help her father’s cause, and she was far more concerned about his reaction than anything Cratyn might threaten her with. Hablet was not a man who took disruption of his plans well. The problem kept her awake night after night, until one morning, as she sat on a small stool in her sumptuous travelling tent, while Tamylan brushed out her long hair before she dressed for the day’s travel. She studied the former slave in the mirror thoughtfully. She really was quite a pretty young woman.
“Tam, do you like Tristan?”
The question startled her. “Tristan?”
“Yes. You know, Tristan. Tall. Fair. Golden eyes. Good looking and entirely too aware of the fact?”
Tamylan smiled. “Do I like him? I suppose.”
“Good,” Adrina announced with satisfaction. “I want you to become his lover.”
The brush halted mid-stroke as Tam stared at her in the mirror. “You want me to be Tristan’s lover?”
“Don’t act so thick, Tam. You heard me. You’re both Fardohnyan, far from home. Nobody would look twice.”
“Your Highness, I appreciate your... thoughtfulness... but somehow, I don’t think your brother is interested in the likes of me.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tam,” Adrina told her cheerily. “You’re very pretty and there isn’t a
“If they think Tristan and I are lovers, I’m likely to get stoned.”
“No you won’t. The Fardohnyans have been given a special exemption by the Church. You’ll be safe enough. Far safer than me, in fact.”
Tamylan scowled unhappily. “I don’t like this place, your Highness. I’d rather you figured out a way to get us home.”
“I’m working on it, Tam,” Adrina assured her. “Believe me, I’m working on it.”
There was one bright spot in her miserable existence, and it came from the most unexpected source. The day after her wedding, Drendyn, Cratyn’s cheerful cousin, had paid her a visit carrying a large wicker basket, which he placed gently on the rug in front of the hearth before turning to her with a beaming smile.
“I have brought you a wedding gift,” he announced.
“And it’s a beautiful basket, too,” she agreed graciously.
“Basket? Oh! No! It’s what’s inside!”
Curiously Adrina lifted the lid and peered inside. A wet nose thrust itself at her and a long sloppy tongue slapped her face. Laughing delightedly, she threw back the lid and lifted the puppy out. He was tan in colour, his shaggy coat thick and soft. The pup was enormous, even at such a young age, and she struggled to lift him.
“He’s beautiful!” she cried. “What is he?”
“He’s a dog,” Drendyn explained, a little confused.
“I
“He’s a Karien hunting dog,” the young Earl told her. “You said you liked hunting, so I thought you could train him now. We breed the best hounds in Karien in Tiler’s Pass. Do you like him?”
She pushed away the sloppy kisses of her new friend and laughed. “Oh Drendyn, I love him. Thank you so much.”
The Earl looked very pleased with himself. “Nothing is too good for our future queen. You will have to think of a name for him.”
“I shall call him... Tiler! In honour of your home.”
Tiler had not left her side since. The dog grew at an alarming rate, and consumed enough to keep a peasant family well fed. He was, besides Tamylan and Tristan, the only soul in Karien who seemed to love her unreservedly. Adrina found it strange that she, having been raised in excessive luxury with anything she wanted there for the asking, should find such joy in such a shaggy, clumsy beast.
Chapter 18
Brak could have followed R’shiel’s path through the mountains with little difficulty, even had a demon not appeared to show him the way. The little grey creature was young and it could barely speak, but it tittered with concern and kept looking over its small grey shoulder to ensure Brak was still following, as it led the way through a forest carpeted in the fiery shades of autumn.
When he finally reached her he hesitated. She was sitting on the edge of a precipice, dressed in dark riding leathers, her feet dangling over a long sheer drop that disappeared into mist.
“I’m not suicidal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said without looking at him. The little demon scrambled up the rest of the path and climbed into her lap.
“Did you bring him here? Traitor.”
She turned to face Brak. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks tear stained. “Did they send you to find me?”
“It’s a curse. All I seem to do these days is chase after you.” When he reached the ledge he sat down beside her and admired the view silently for a moment. The steep mountains were still snow capped, even at this time of year, and the air was pleasantly cool. He could see Sanctuary’s tall spires in the distance, but only because he knew they were there. To mere human eyes, the spires looked like any other steep peaks in this vast range full of them. “Korandellan was worried about you.”
“He did this to me. It serves him right.”
