Exile's Valor

hooves, rather—and not a horse. Think! Had it been a horse that had done this, would you not in blood and broken bones be lying? In your own land, lives the Shin’a’in Tarma—so I know that you know of this. The Companion is like to her kyree Warrl. Be grateful she did no more than kick you for your insults.”

He saw the Prince’s eyes widen, then narrow again, at the comparison. He heard also heard Kantor’s snort of disgust at being compared to a kyree. But Kantor knew better than to object, since at least now the Prince had some basis for comparison that he might believe.

“So—” Karathanelan got out around clenched teeth, “How do I get one of them to let me ride it?”

“Choose you, you mean?” Alberich replied, letting go of the young man’s shoulders. “After this?” He shook his head, and wondered at the monumental hubris that would permit the Prince to even think of such a thing. He considered trying to explain that it might happen—if the Prince were to have such a complete change of character as to be a different person. He opted for the simpler choice, for Karathanelan would never believe that he needed to change his character. “After such an insult to all Companions as this—never. Not even if the Queen was to come here and beg them upon her knees.”

And satisfied at least that the fool was in no condition to try any more foolishness, he gave the merest sketch of a bow, and turned on his heel. Two steps took him to Kantor, and he mounted and rode off. There were more important matters to tend to than the petulant Prince.

At least for now.

***

Myste was laughing so hard that there were actually tears coming from the corners of her eyes, and her lenses fogged. “Oh, gods,” she gasped. “Oh, gods. I wish I’d seen it!” She mimed the Prince’s ungraceful arc through the air with one hand. “Eeeeeeeeee—thump! Oh, I wish I’d seen it!”

“No, you don’t,” Alberich contradicted her sourly. “The Prince has a good memory, and although he probably will not dare to touch another Companion, he is going to find a target for his anger. More than one, I suspect; anyone who actually witnessed his disgrace is going to find themselves on his short list of people he’ll mark for punishment and revenge. With his reputation and manliness so utterly refuted, he will want to make someone pay.”

“And what could he do to a Herald?” Myste scoffed.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “And that is what concerns me. He has already tried to have me dismissed from my post as Weaponsmaster today—for ’putting violent hands on a Prince of the Blood,’ if you please. It was only the reaction of the Council to that statement that persuaded him that I am out of his reach for now.” He shook his head. “Kyril stood up and said that he was lucky I had not finished the task Caryo started. And that for laying violent hands on a Companion, he could have found himself in the Palace dungeons.”

“The Palace doesn’t have dungeons,” Myste said without thinking.

“I know that, and you do, but the Prince apparently does not.” Alberich shrugged. “That is not relevant. The point is, he has already sent his three ’friends’ packing. He tried to disgrace me. Keren has been warned, and is going to try to stay out of his sight.” He grimaced. “Poor Selenay.”

“Why ’poor Selenay?’”Myste asked, surprised.

“Caryo is her Companion,” he reminded her. “I do not think that he will harm her physically, but there are other ways he can make her unhappy.” Many other ways, actually. He wondered how Caryo had broken the news to Selenay, for surely she would not have waited for the Prince to tell his version of the tale first.

She shrugged. “I suspect that after he hears the news, he won’t be inclined to take any of his pique out on her. If he wants a validation for his masculinity, he’ll surely have it.”

“The news?” He looked at her blankly. “What news?”

“She’s going to have a baby, of course.” Myste tsked. “Men. I suppose you think it isn’t important.”

But her words made his blood run cold, as he remembered that overheard conversation with Norris. “On the contrary,” he said. “It is very important. If what we suspect about the Prince is, in fact, true—”

Myste lost her sarcastic smugness, and went a little pale. “I’d forgotten about that. Once the baby’s born, if he can’t be King—”

“—there is nothing in the laws of Valdemar that say that a Regent must be a Herald,” Alberich finished grimly for her. “And even now you would find it difficult to persuade most of the members of the Council that he should not be Regent for his own child should something happen to Selenay.”

***