Kerowyn's Ride

He tried to say something to refute her, but nothing would come out.

“Daren, you have a companion and partner waiting for you—someone who needs your help and support and the fact that you love him, and needs it more than I ever will,” she said softly, but emphatically. “Your brother is and will be more to you than I ever can. Or ever should. And once we’d both gotten to the Court, you’d have found that out. I could never be more than a burden to you then, and it would frankly be only a matter of time until my temper made me an embarrassment as well.”

“I—you—” he sputtered a while, then shook his head, as his gelding champed at the bit, impatient to be off. “I—I guess you’re right,” he said, crestfallen. “I can’t think of any reason why you should be wrong, anyway.”

He looked down at his saddle pommel for a moment, then defiantly met her eyes. “But dammit, I don’t have to like it!”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

She stared right back into his eyes, and in the end, he was the one who had to drop his gaze.

“Daren,” she said, after a moment of heavy silence, broken by the stamping of horses, creak of leather, and jingle of harness, “Wait a couple of years. Wait until I’ve found my place. Then I can be your eccentric friend, that crazy female fighter. Princes are expected to have one or two really odd friends.” She chuckled then, and he looked up and reluctantly smiled.

“I suppose,” he ventured. “You might even do my reputation some good.”

“Oh, definitely.” The smile she wore turned into a wicked grin. “Just think how people will react when they know I’m your lover. ‘Prince Daren, tamer of wild merc women!’ I can see it now, they’ll stand in awe of your manhood!”

He blushed—all the more because he knew damned well it was true. “Kero—” he protested.

“Are we friends again?” she said abruptly.

He blinked, his eyes once more filling with tears, and this time he did not try to pretend they weren’t there. “Yes,” he said. “Although why you’d want a fool like me for a friend—”

“Oh, I have to have someone I can borrow money from,” she said lightly—then reached across the intervening space between them and hugged him, hard.

And when she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes as well.

“Just you take care of yourself, you unmannered lout,” she whispered hoarsely. “I want you around to lend me that money.”

“Mercenary,” he replied, just as hoarsely.

She nodded, and backed her horse away slowly.

“Exactly so, my friend. Exactly so.” She halted the mare just out of reach, and waved at him. “And you have places to go, and people waiting for you, Prince Daren.”

He turned his horse and urged it into a brisk walk, looking back over his shoulder as he did so. He halfway expected to see her making her way toward the Tower, but she was still sitting on her horse beside the path. When she saw him looking, she waved once—more a salute than a wave.

The departing salute he gave her was exactly that. Then he set his eyes on the trail ahead. And never once looked back.

Kero waited until Daren was out of sight, then turned her horse’s head toward the Tower.

I’m not sure what was more surprising—him developing good sense, or me developing a silver tongue. She hadn’t quite known what she was going to say, only the general shape of it. She certainly had not expected the kind of eloquent speech she’d managed to make.

One thing that was not at all surprising; she was already missing Daren—but she wasn’t as miserable as her worst fears had suggested. Which meant, to her way of thinking, that she was not in love with the man. Deep in the lonely hours of the night she’d had quasi-nightmares about successfully sending him away, then discovering she really couldn’t live without him.

She sighed, and Verenna’s ears flicked back at the sound. “Well,” she told the mare, “I guess now it’s my turn to figure out exactly what I’m going to do with my life.”

And Need chose that moment to strike.