Lady Knight. Tamora Pierce
admitted, gathering her saddlebags. ‘Look how easy Peachblossom is with him.’ Satisfied that Tobe needed no help, she followed Neal into the wayhouse, Jump and the sparrows trailing behind.
Messengers had warned their hosts of their arrival. There was a tub of hot water in Kel’s room. She scrubbed, changed, then went to find her charge. She found Tobe in Peachblossom’s stall, though both the gelding and Hoshi had been groomed and fed.
‘You’ll sleep in my chamber like last night. There’s a tub there now. Go and wash,’ she ordered. ‘The servants take meals in the east wing of the house. Eat properly, vegetables as well as meat. And drink some milk.’
Tobe grinned at her. ‘He said last night you’re a bear for vegetables – Sir Nealan, that is. Auld Eulama were the same.’ He went to do as he was told. Kel returned to the wayhouse, thinking. They needed to come to an understanding. She couldn’t let him walk, but she didn’t like to share a saddle. Perhaps he could ride Hoshi? Normally Kel would have ridden the mare on a journey like this, but she needed Peachblossom’s strength to help open the road in spots. Hoshi would barely notice Tobe’s weight, and she would keep him out of the mud.
In the common room, Kel picked at her supper, too weary to eat. She was about to go to her room when someone came in. A servant rushed forward to take his wet things; the innkeeper followed to see what the new guest required.
The newcomer was a big fellow, a knight from his tunic badge, with red curly hair and grey eyes. Kel froze. It was Cleon of Kennan, her sweetheart. But something was wrong. She looked at him and saw a brawny knight she knew. Where was the joy of looking at him that she had felt the last time they met? Cleon was as attractive as ever, but he didn’t make her skin tingle as he once had.
Kel bit her lip. As a page she’d thought she was hopelessly in love with Neal. Then, a newly made squire, she’d spent a summer with Lord Raoul and Third Company. Seeing Neal after months of separation, she’d found he looked like just another man, not the bright centre of her heart. Now it had happened again. She and Cleon had kissed, had yearned for time and privacy in which to become lovers. He’d wanted to marry her, though she was not sure that she wanted marriage. Here he was, but she didn’t feel warm and eager at the sight of him. Friendship was there, but passion was gone.
Worse, a part of her wasn’t surprised by the change. They’d been apart for such a long time, with only letters to keep their feelings alive. So much had happened, too much, all of it more vivid and recent than her memories of him. She didn’t want Cleon as a lover now, of that she was sure. There was work to be done. She wanted no lovers until she had settled the Nothing Man’s account.
Kel looked down at her plate. Maybe Cleon wouldn’t see her.
Merric of Hollyrose, at the end of her table, jumped to his feet. ‘Cleon!’ he yelled. Everyone looked at the newcomer and called out greetings. Prince Roald waved him over. Kel fixed a smile on her face.
Cleon too smiled when he saw Kel, but he didn’t seem to notice that Neal offered him a seat beside her. Instead, Cleon took a chair near the prince.
‘Why are you here?’ asked Faleron of King’s Reach. He was one of the knights destined to defend the seacoast. ‘You’re headed the wrong way.’
Cleon glanced at Kel, then looked at Faleron. ‘I got a mage message asking me to come home soonest. You’ve heard there’s flooding in the southwest hills?’
Faleron, whose home was near Cleon’s, sighed. ‘It’s bad,’ he said. ‘Father said a lot of fiefdoms lost their entire stores of grain – oh, no. Yours?’
Cleon nodded, his mouth a grim line. ‘The Lictas River went over its banks and wiped out our storehouses. I’ve got to help Mother raise funds so our people can plant this year.’
Kel met Cleon’s eyes. They had often talked about his home. She knew his estates were short of money.
Abruptly, Cleon stood. ‘May I have a word, Kel? Alone?’
She couldn’t refuse. Her thoughts tumbled as she followed him outside. They stood under the eaves that sheltered the inn’s door, the wind blowing rain onto them. She wondered if he’d noticed she hadn’t moved to kiss him, then realized that he had not tried to kiss her, either. Suddenly she knew what was coming.
‘I’ve just one way to get coin for grain and the livestock we lost, Kel,’ he said. ‘The moneylenders only give Mother polite regrets. I have to marry Ermelian of Aminar or my people will starve this winter.’ He turned away. ‘I’m so sorry. I’d thought, if we had time …’
Relief poured through Kel. She wouldn’t have to hurt him. ‘We knew our chances weren’t good,’ she said over the rattle of sheaves of rain. ‘We did talk about it.’
‘I know,’ he said hoarsely, standing with his back to her. ‘Even knowing I couldn’t break the betrothal honourably, I went ahead and dreamed. That’s the problem with being able to think. It means you wish for things you can’t have.’
Kel wished she could comfort him. Even beyond kisses, he was her friend. She laid a hand on his back. ‘Cleon—’
‘Don’t.’ He twitched away from her touch. ‘I can’t – I’m as good as married now. It wouldn’t be right.’
Relief flooded her again. Cleon was too honourable to kiss her or let her touch him now that he’d agreed to his marriage. She felt shallow, coldhearted, and sorry for him.
‘You said you liked her, when we were on progress,’ she reminded him. ‘You said she’s nice. It could be much worse. People do find happiness, when they’re married to someone good.’
The awful grinding sound that came from his throat was supposed to be a laugh. ‘That’s you, Kel, making the best of it,’ he said. He rubbed his eyes with his arm before he turned to face her. ‘You’re right. I saw her while we were on progress. It was after you left to help that village after the earthquake. She is nice. She’s also pretty and kind. Some of our friends can’t say as much about the wives arranged for them. She just isn’t you. She isn’t my friend, or my comrade.’ He tried to smile.
Kel’s heart hurt. Cleon was still her friend, if not her lover. ‘Come inside,’ she told him. ‘Dry out, and eat. We’ll do our duty, like we’re supposed to. And we can be friends, surely. Nothing changes that.’
‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing will ever change that.’ He raised a hand as if to touch her cheek, then lowered it and went inside.
Kel didn’t cry for her friend and the sudden, hard changes in their lives until she was safe in bed and Tobe was lightly snoring on his pallet. She thought she’d muffled herself until he said, ‘It’s awright, lady. I’d be ascairt, too, goin’ off for savages to shoot at.’
Kel choked, dried her eyes on her nightshirt sleeve, and turned onto her back. ‘It’s not the war, Tobe,’ she replied. She groped for the handkerchief on her bedside table, sat up, and blew her nose. ‘I’ve been shot at. I can bear it. I’m crying because my friend is unhappy and everything is changing.’
‘Is that what you’re ’posed to do?’ he asked. ‘Cry for your friends, though they ain’t dead? Cry when things change?’
‘If the changes are hard ones,’ Kel replied. ‘If they take away the things you knew were good.’ She wiped her nose, trying to decide what else to say. How could he not know about sorrow for a friend? ‘Don’t you cry when your friends are hurt?’
‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘Never had no friends, ’cept maybe Auld Eulama, an’ she only cried when the drink was in her.’
Kel sat breathless for a moment. Tobe sounded as if this was all he’d ever expected his world to be.
‘You have friends now,’ she told him. ‘And with luck, Peachblossom and Jump and I won’t do any crying for you.’
‘I hope not, lady,’ he said. From