Her barb finally found its mark. Drago whipped round to face his sister. “You’re nothing but a cold bitch, RiverStar,” he said with icy flatness. “You’d be happy enough left with a hound to couple with.”
He, in his turn, had stung deeply.
“You pathetic little human man!” RiverStar hissed, her face twisted with loathing. “I shall laugh over your grave! I will enjoy my lover on the sods above your mouldering flesh! I will –”
“That is enough,” Zenith said sharply. “Drago, what is it?”
Drago wrenched his eyes away from RiverStar, two red spots of anger in his cheeks, and half bowed to Leagh. To Zenith’s amazement his voice came out soft, almost gentle, and she wondered at the effort it must have cost him.
“Princess Leagh, I was walking up the main staircase when my brother Caelum called me to find you. He wishes your presence in the courtyard. The word from the sentries is that Zared and his escort ride towards the bridge.”
And then he stepped forward, and with the grace of a courtier offered a shocked and pale Leagh his arm and support.
Leagh could not control the skidding of her heart, nor the sudden cramp in her chest that made each breath a painful effort. Calm down! she berated herself, but it did not help. Zared was only moments away, and it had been so long since she’d seen him.
Drago did not say a word as he led her down the corridors and stairwells of Sigholt. Leagh leaned on him without embarrassment – without him, she thought, she could not walk – and Drago made no complaint.
It was late afternoon, and the Keep threw a deep shadow over the courtyard. Leagh stumbled slightly as she and Drago walked outside, and he tightened his arm and drew her in a little closer.
“Hope,” she thought she heard him say, but when she glanced at his face it was expressionless, his eyes elsewhere, and so she thought she had imagined it.
There were several ranks of soldiers lined up in the courtyard, their hands ready on the hilts of their swords to provide a welcoming salute. Caelum, dressed all in black, walked forward to greet her.
Askam was two or three steps behind.
Leagh saw Caelum exchange a hard glance with Drago, and she felt Drago stiffen at her side, but she had no time for further observation of the brothers’ enmity.
“Zared?” she asked Caelum, and was stunned to hear her voice come out cool. Calm, even.
“A minute away,” Caelum said. “No more.”
And, indeed, at that moment Leagh heard the bridge call out to Zared, welcoming him. The bridge did not challenge him, for Zared had been born within Sigholt’s walls, and she knew him well.
Almost before the bridge had finished her greeting there came the clatter of many hooves on the bridge, and Leagh had a moment of panic.
Gods, what was she wearing? A pale blue linen gown that could be called serviceable, nothing more. And her hair! Leagh’s free hand patted at her head, remembering with horror that this morning she’d left her hair in nothing but a single thick braid down her back.
“Leagh,” Zenith’s soft voice said behind her, “you look lovely. Do not fret.”
I should be greeting Zared in the audience chamber of our palace in Carlon, Leagh thought, resplendent in satins and jewels, not here in this dairymaid’s gown – and she had no more time for thought, for at that moment Zared rode into the courtyard.
She was the first thing he saw. Absolutely stunned, Zared pulled his horse to such a sudden, skittery halt that Herme and Theod, who rode directly behind him, had to rein their own mounts sharply to one side to avoid him.
“Leagh?” he whispered.
At that precise moment the ranked soldiers presented their swords and standards, and a trio of trumpeters high in Sigholt’s walls blew out a clarion of welcome.
In the sudden presentation of arms, and the flags and banners fluttering about, Zared lost sight of Leagh.
Frustrated, he leaped from his horse, ducked under its neck … and came face to face with an impassive StarSon Caelum.
“Prince Zared, I welcome you to Sigholt. May its doors always swing wide to greet you, and its bridge always sing you a greeting.”
Damn these polite receptions! Zared cursed. He tried to see past Caelum, but he only saw Askam further back in the gloom, and the first of the ranks of stony-faced soldiers.
“I thank you, StarSon,” he replied evenly. “I, as must my other companions among the Five, find myself somewhat surprised to be so suddenly called to Council.”
“You know why you are here,” Caelum said, his voice toneless, and Zared wondered how long Askam had been in Sigholt, and what he’d managed to whisper into Caelum’s ear. While not as close as their fathers had been, Caelum and Askam were nevertheless friends. “This disunity between you and Askam must finally be put to rest.”
Askam had whispered nothing complimentary, Zared thought. “Then I welcome the summons, StarSon. I wish for nothing more than peace and harmony within Tencendor.”
Caelum’s eyes had slipped behind Zared. “Herme? Theod? Why do you travel with Zared?”
“We met the Prince of the North coming through the lower Urqhart Hills,” Herme said easily, “and chose to ride the final leagues with him. Theod and myself thought to have our voices heard at this Council, as the weighty matter before it affects all those living in the West. As in the North.”
Far back in the column of Zared’s escort, Goldman and Heavorand pulled their hoods a little closer over their faces. No doubt Caelum’s enchanted eyesight could spot them if he chose, but they did not want Askam to see them. Their business was best conducted without their Prince knowing they were at Sigholt.
“Who gave you permission to attend this Council?” Askam stepped forward to Caelum’s shoulder. “Theod? You should be at home, attending your seasonal county courts. Herme? You should know better than to present your uninvited self at Sigholt!”
Theod was lost for words, but Herme replied smoothly. “I did not realise our freedom of movement – our choice of movement – was also subject to your whim, Sir Prince.”
“Enough!” Caelum snapped. Truly, Theod and Herme should have known better than to ride in with Zared as if he were their prince, not Askam! But Herme had also made a telling point, and Caelum did not regret the chance to hear from someone other than Askam how the West was responding to the taxes.
“You may stay, Sir Duke and Sir Earl,” he said, his tone more even now. “I shall organise an afternoon to speak with you, but I also reserve the right to invite you or bar you from Council as I please.”
He turned slightly and called to his steward. “Runton? Prepare chambers suitable for the Duke and Earl. Zared, perhaps you might like to dine with me tonight?”
Zared ignored his invitation. “Caelum,” he said softly. “What is Leagh doing here?”
Caelum stared at him a moment, then waved Leagh forward.
She hesitated, and the man at her side – Zared noticed with some surprise who it was – spoke softly in her ear. Leagh gave the smallest of nods, and then walked forward calmly to stand at Caelum’s side.
“Zared,” she said simply, her eyes fixed on his.
Zared opened his mouth, found he could say nothing, and so stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed her palm.