Exile's Valor

Well, that penetrated the lethargic depression, a bit. :Alberich? Surely not.: And anyway, it was probably only that he disliked Orthallen. Well, apparently the feeling was mutual, and there wasn’t anything she could do about that. When two men decided to take a dislike to one another, there really wasn’t anything to be done about it. It was like trying to get a pair of dominant dogs to be friends; no matter what you did, each of them was going to be certain that he should be head of the pack, and all you could do was to try and keep them separate as much as possible. Orthallen was one of the few people who didn’t say anything stupid about her father. He didn’t even say that she ought to be over her grief by now, and that made him one of the few people she felt comfortable being around, even if he did tend to treat her as “little Selenay” instead of the Queen.

Besides, it wasn’t Alberich that she wanted to make jealous.

Though, on second thought, there really wasn’t anyone in her entire Court or the Heraldic Circle she wanted to make jealous. Honestly, if the whole business of trying to get her to marry someone who was tied to a whole pack of special interests was put aside, the real reason she didn’t want to marry any of the Council’s choices was that they all bored her. There wasn’t one of them that was worth spending an entire afternoon with, much less a lifetime. There wasn’t a single unattached male in the entire Court that even gave her a flutter of interest.

She was just so tired of it all; tired of the ache in her soul, tired of the loneliness, tired of trying to outmaneuver the people she should have been able to lean on. It seemed as if her entire life was nothing more than dragging herself through an endless round of weariness and grief, and she just wanted an end to it all.

She buried her face in her pillow, not to muffle more sobs, but to block out—everything. If only for a moment.

It was when she woke again to the sounds of her servants and attendants bustling around the room that she realized she must have fallen asleep again. And if she didn’t feel better, at least she felt a little less tired.

Enough so, that she felt she could probably face the day. She didn’t want to, but she could.

:I think,: she told Caryo, as they came to get her out of bed and dress her, :I think we’ll have our morning ride before breakfast.:

:Good,: Caryo said simply. :I’d like that. Thank you.:

Keep moving. That was the only answer. Just keep moving. . . .

And if that wasn’t an answer, at least it was a way to keep her from just—stopping. Stopping and never starting again.

***

For Alberich, the day after the Festival’s climax began just as any ordinary day did—the only differences being that now, at least, he didn’t have to concern himself with making preparations for Selenay’s appearance, and now that he knew the identity of the young man he’d been looking for, he could concentrate on thinking of ways to find out what was going on.

But as far as the young Trainees went, apparently, the end of the Festival meant restlessness and discontent. They’d had an unexpected break in their routine, and as Alberich was woefully aware, any break in a youngster’s routine generally meant trouble in getting him back into that routine.

As a consequence, the first class of the morning was a disaster. Far too much time was wasted in trying to get his students back on track after the excitement of the Ice Festival. And they fought him every step of the way, performing their warmups lethargically, running through the initial exercises in a state of distraction, and wasting time in chattering about the pleasures of the day before.

And part of him was still puzzling over the question of Devlin Gereton, why he would be receiving information from a play-actor, and what that information could be. It took real effort on his own part to put that aside and concentrate on getting some results out of the class.

But it was a futile effort. The Trainees were utterly disinclined to settle down and work, and finally, in desperation, he decided that if all they could do was chatter about ice sports, well, he’d give them an ice sport they would never forget!

After all, they were going to have to learn to work together, in coordinated teams. . . .

“Silence!” he barked. “Weapons down.”

Startled, they shut off the chatter, dropped weapon points, and stared at him.

“Weapons put away. Get the staves,” he ordered grimly. “Now. Then on with cloaks, and follow me.”

Now looking apprehensive and guilty, they obeyed. He snatched up his own cloak, hid a little surprise inside it