to go back sometime—and explain to Kief why he’d ridden off alone.
Not that I truly need a bodyguard—
On the very heels of the thought, the branches behind him crackled as someone rode out of the forest into the clearing. And he, gods curse it, had left Tsan Rhilin behind.
Linden pulled his horse around in a tight, rearing turn. One hand reached for the greatsword that he knew wasn’t there. He dropped the hand, feeling supremely foolish when he saw his attacker.
Sherrine tossed her hair. “Did I startle you, Dragonlord? My apologies!” Her voice was husky, enticing even as her eyes laughed at him. The woods lily scent of her perfume filled the air.
He smiled, wishing everyone who’d sneaked up behind him in his long life was so welcome a sight. “Good day, my lady. I’m sorry—I didn’t notice you.”
She frowned, but there was a smile hiding behind it, like sunlight behind a cloud. She asked, “May I join you, Dragonlord—or do you prefer to ride alone?” Her eyes said she hoped he didn’t.
Her gaze warmed him. Oh yes, this girl wanted a dalliance. Her boldness enchanted him—as did her beauty. It had been
too long since he’d had a lover. Perhaps his stay in Cassori would be more interesting than he’d thought.
“I would be delighted,” he said. Then, because he couldn’t change old habits, he asked, “To what good fortune do I owe this meeting, lady? Surely you don’t ride these woods alone.”
“Sometimes I do, Dragonlord; the woods this close to Casna are safe. But today I was riding with some friends.”
He remembered the voices he’d heard.
“We’d thought to have a picnic, but they returned to the city instead, leaving me to go on alone. And by sheer luck I found you instead.”
He hid a smile. Her laughing eyes made Linden certain she had spotted him and sent her friends off. Nor, he thought, did she much care if he guessed it. They both knew what game she played.
She smiled as she rode up alongside him. The scent of her was warm, dizzying. My luck or hers—and do I care? he thought.
“Are you enjoying your stay in Casna, Dragonlord?” she asked, and urged her horse on. “Aside from the council meetings, of course.” She looked back over her shoulder at him, a glance of mingled amusement and sympathy.
Linden urged the gelding to catch up. “I’d enjoy it far more if there were more moments like this and less of the council,” he said.
She laughed. “Mother says the council is terribly boring. Especially when old Lord Corvy starts rambling.”
Linden grimaced. With his huge, bristling mustache, Corvy looked like a dyspeptic walrus—and sounded like one. “Too true. Though when Baron Chardel threatened to shorten Corvy’s tongue for him if he didn’t get to the point, it almost became interesting. Almost.”
Sherrine smothered a laugh. “Be thankful you weren’t there when Corvy and Chardel were fighting over the swamps that lie between their lands. Chardel wanted to drain them to make more farmland. Corvy refused.”
“Why? It seems laudable.”
Now her shoulders shook. “Because it would drive away the bullfrogs, you see.”
Linden wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. “Bullfrogs?”
Sherrine nodded. “Corvy is inordinately fond of frogs’ legs and was livid at the thought of losing his favorite dinner. They sniped at each other for months. I thought Mother would resign her seat on the council. She still won’t have frogs’ legs served at home.”
He could see the two feisty old men going at it in his mind’s eye. Laughing, he said, “Thank you. Have you any idea how tempted I shall be to whisper ‘ribbit, ribbit’ the next time Corvy starts?”
Sherrine laughed in turn and told him more about the nobles of the Cassorin court: Lord and Lady Trewin, who had a joint passion for collecting Assantikkan ceramics; the racing rivalry between Lord Duriac and Lord Sevrynel, the Earl of Rockfall, the latter also being well known for the
Not that I truly need a bodyguard—
On the very heels of the thought, the branches behind him crackled as someone rode out of the forest into the clearing. And he, gods curse it, had left Tsan Rhilin behind.
Linden pulled his horse around in a tight, rearing turn. One hand reached for the greatsword that he knew wasn’t there. He dropped the hand, feeling supremely foolish when he saw his attacker.
Sherrine tossed her hair. “Did I startle you, Dragonlord? My apologies!” Her voice was husky, enticing even as her eyes laughed at him. The woods lily scent of her perfume filled the air.
He smiled, wishing everyone who’d sneaked up behind him in his long life was so welcome a sight. “Good day, my lady. I’m sorry—I didn’t notice you.”
She frowned, but there was a smile hiding behind it, like sunlight behind a cloud. She asked, “May I join you, Dragonlord—or do you prefer to ride alone?” Her eyes said she hoped he didn’t.
Her gaze warmed him. Oh yes, this girl wanted a dalliance. Her boldness enchanted him—as did her beauty. It had been
too long since he’d had a lover. Perhaps his stay in Cassori would be more interesting than he’d thought.
“I would be delighted,” he said. Then, because he couldn’t change old habits, he asked, “To what good fortune do I owe this meeting, lady? Surely you don’t ride these woods alone.”
“Sometimes I do, Dragonlord; the woods this close to Casna are safe. But today I was riding with some friends.”
He remembered the voices he’d heard.
“We’d thought to have a picnic, but they returned to the city instead, leaving me to go on alone. And by sheer luck I found you instead.”
He hid a smile. Her laughing eyes made Linden certain she had spotted him and sent her friends off. Nor, he thought, did she much care if he guessed it. They both knew what game she played.
She smiled as she rode up alongside him. The scent of her was warm, dizzying. My luck or hers—and do I care? he thought.
“Are you enjoying your stay in Casna, Dragonlord?” she asked, and urged her horse on. “Aside from the council meetings, of course.” She looked back over her shoulder at him, a glance of mingled amusement and sympathy.
Linden urged the gelding to catch up. “I’d enjoy it far more if there were more moments like this and less of the council,” he said.
She laughed. “Mother says the council is terribly boring. Especially when old Lord Corvy starts rambling.”
Linden grimaced. With his huge, bristling mustache, Corvy looked like a dyspeptic walrus—and sounded like one. “Too true. Though when Baron Chardel threatened to shorten Corvy’s tongue for him if he didn’t get to the point, it almost became interesting. Almost.”
Sherrine smothered a laugh. “Be thankful you weren’t there when Corvy and Chardel were fighting over the swamps that lie between their lands. Chardel wanted to drain them to make more farmland. Corvy refused.”
“Why? It seems laudable.”
Now her shoulders shook. “Because it would drive away the bullfrogs, you see.”
Linden wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. “Bullfrogs?”
Sherrine nodded. “Corvy is inordinately fond of frogs’ legs and was livid at the thought of losing his favorite dinner. They sniped at each other for months. I thought Mother would resign her seat on the council. She still won’t have frogs’ legs served at home.”
He could see the two feisty old men going at it in his mind’s eye. Laughing, he said, “Thank you. Have you any idea how tempted I shall be to whisper ‘ribbit, ribbit’ the next time Corvy starts?”
Sherrine laughed in turn and told him more about the nobles of the Cassorin court: Lord and Lady Trewin, who had a joint passion for collecting Assantikkan ceramics; the racing rivalry between Lord Duriac and Lord Sevrynel, the Earl of Rockfall, the latter also being well known for the
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