Barkly hesitated. He was only yards away now from the other men.
‘But, my lady. The King—’
‘The King is not here, I see. He will not miss me,’ she said loftily, unable to drag herself back to a level of politeness for the poor, rather red-faced man standing below her.
She became aware of a third person approaching behind on a horse, but she ignored them. ‘I wish to return to the palace immediately.’ It was a command now.
Lauryn saw Barkly’s eyes flick beyond her which she interpreted in her irritation as a lack of respect for her wishes. That combined with her anger at being treated with disdain by the King fired something in her. She
pulled at the reins to release Barkly’s hold. Lauryn decided she would find her own way back to the stables if she had to. Her sudden movement and Barkly’s equally strong grip on the mare meant the horse’s mouth took the impact and, in her pain, Firefly bucked and then in an instant was galloping. Lauryn screamed. She was competent in the saddle but was no expert and a startled horse was definitely beyond her riding skills. The horse suited her name very well…it felt like she was flying.
Lauryn could hear the sound of hooves behind her and begged for them to catch up before Firefly entered the small copse she seemed doggedly targeted towards. Too late—they crashed into the branches of trees which whipped at her. She let go of the reins to protect her face, feeling her hair grabbed and ripped.
The rider behind must have caught up and as Firefly lurched to a halt, Lauryn lost her seat and fell hard to the ground. She saw stars as she regained her wits a minute or so later, opening her eyes to look into the concerned face of the King.
‘Hush, don’t move. Do you hurt anywhere, Lauryn?’
There were other faces. All anxious. It was rather nice to have the attention of all these men. ‘I hurt everywhere,’ she croaked and unhappily accepted the King’s help to sit up.
‘Take it slowly, my lady. Please don’t injure yourself further,’ Gyl said gently. It was a lovely voice. But she had been so angry with him, hadn’t she? Lauryn frowned, thinking back to why that had been. And then it all returned to her as the fuzziness in her head cleared. Her back and ribs hurt.
‘You left me alone,’ she said. At some given signal
she did not catch, the men began to disperse. ‘Where’s everyone going?’
Gyl’s mouth tweaked with the beginnings of a grin. ‘I thought you may appreciate some privacy. Can you stand, my lady?’
With an effort she could.
‘Nothing broken then?’ he asked, his face still showing traces of how scared he had been that she had sustained a real injury.
‘No. Just plenty of bruises I’m sure,’ she admitted, feeling very sore and sorry for herself. ‘I must look a fright,’ she added, noticing her hair torn once again from its neat plait.
‘You look as gorgeous as you did this afternoon. Sadly, you chose not to wear that delightful damp blouse again,’ he said, now battling to keep the grin from his face.
She looked at him, realising he still had his arms around her from helping her up and somehow, looking up into that boyish, handsome face, she found her sense of humour. Her amusement through her aches and groans was genuine, laced with relief that her perceived humiliation had been an overreaction. ‘I’m so sorry about that. I am still burning with embarrassment.’
He helped her over to a tree and encouraged her to sit down again. ‘Don’t be. Most women in the court would gladly give an arm or a leg —both in fact—to look as good as you did this afternoon, even without the water effect.’
Lauryn covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t sure now if she was still embarrassed by the event or by his unexpected flattery. ‘Oh, please don’t let’s talk about it any more—I’m so ashamed.’
He gave a full throaty laugh. ‘I’m afraid I shall never be able to forget it. Shall probably dream about it for years to come.’ He changed the subject. ‘Why did you kick your horse into a gallop by the way?’
‘I didn’t,’ she admitted, forlornly. ‘I was so angry at you for deserting me I decided I would refuse to be led to where the party was and when that Barkly fellow did not turn the horse around, I thought I’d find my own way. It seems I startled Firefly.’
‘What party?’
‘Hmmm?’ she said, trying to tuck the loose hair back into some order. It didn’t work.
‘The party,’ he repeated. ‘I’m wondering which party do you speak of?’
She gave up on the hair and began to realise she had made another mistake. ‘Oh, I just assumed your invitation meant a group of us were heading out for an afternoon ride.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what, sire?’ she said, now unnerved by the steady green gaze. He was sitting close enough that his knees touched hers. Why was her heart suddenly racing?
He rephrased his question. ‘Why would you assume we were to travel in a party?’
‘Why not?’ she retorted defensively, noticing the short cut of his hair and how the ends seemed tipped in gold. They were much too close for her comfort.
He laughed at her evasiveness and took her hand. She stared at the large hands which held hers and noticed how carefully he took care of them, for a soldier. Mind you, they were suited for the King he now was. The nails were clipped short and filed smooth with
perfect half moons at the cuticle. They were scrupulously clean. She shocked herself with the powerful urge to feel those hands on her. Lauryn immediately dragged her eyes away from the offending hands and back to the green gaze.
‘Pardon?’ she asked, suddenly, thrown by the vision of him caressing her through her water-drenched blouse. She shook her head to rid her mind of it.
The King smiled. It was a wicked and knowing look. ‘I didn’t say anything. Your hand feels suddenly moist, Lauryn. Are you all right?’
She snatched it away, rubbing it on her skirt. ‘I’m fine. Perhaps we should go,’ she said, eyes darting around in case someone had glimpsed them together. All at once they seemed to be sitting so close their heads almost touched.
‘Are you really fine?’ The gentle concern was back in the voice of the King.
‘I am, I promise. I was winded and I’m sure I’ll sport some superb bruises but otherwise, I feel well. Shall we go?’
She made to stand but the wretched beautiful hand had hers in its clutch again.
‘If you are well, then I would be honoured if you would continue with the ride and the picnic I had planned.’
‘Picnic?’ she said, feeling and sounding like a pet parrot she had seen at the palace in a gilded cage. She promised herself she would not repeat nor make him repeat another word.
‘Yes, our picnic. Yours and mine.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, I invited you to join me for a ride this afternoon. I thought we could take a quiet picnic together and I could make use of your sound advice and practise using my smile again.’
‘Oh, Gyl, I didn’t mean it…’
His grin faltered and the vulnerability was back. She found it rather endearing now. ‘I know. I know. But you’re right. These past weeks…well, I feel as though some sort of grim countenance has fallen upon me as catastrophic news blended with strange news. I really have forgotten what it is to smile but you reminded me. I’m grateful. So…will you join me?’
She looked around, confused. ‘You mean just us?’
‘That’s all it ever was going to be. Those men are my guards. They were waiting for me as I went to check on something. You arrived and obviously decided I was not in attendance. But I promise you, I was there all along and simply went ahead to see to some kingly decisions,’ he said with faked importance. They shared a smile. He nodded at the men. ‘They will keep watch but at a discreet distance. We’ll be essentially travelling alone, but not far, I promise.’
And with that, he lifted her hand and kissed it. It was so soft and so fleeting she had trouble convincing herself it had happened at all.
With no self-consciousness for what he had just done, the King stood, helped her to her feet and walked her towards Firefly, all the time one hand guiding her. His touch she felt burning through her clothes all the way to her skin which was now tingling.
Later, they sat beside a very small brook and shared a simple, delicious meal. They had talked at length during the ride, allowing the horses to set their own comfortable pace. Gyl had already decided that Lauryn was not up to anything swift that afternoon and deliberately permitted Bryx to stroll. They shared many laughs over trivial matters and Gyl noticed that Lauryn was a clever mimic…already, in the brief time she had been in the palace, she could produce hilarious impersonations of Koryn and Cook. And once again he chuckled and she cringed over the afternoon’s episode, and then he promised her he would never refer to it again. Inwardly, Gyl knew the vision would haunt him daily and he would not be able to rest until he felt her body against his.
As they had drifted into a companionable silence he began to wonder whether there was anything wrong with his desire for this woman. She was not his sister after all. Her birth mother was his adopted mother in truth and neither had been raised together as kin. As far as he was concerned she was a needy young stranger who had come into his life in the most unexpected way. She had intrigued him from the moment they met and she intrigued him even more now.
As they sat by the brook the mood deepened into something more sombre as Gyl began to speak about his father. In a short time Lauryn felt she almost knew the man through Gyl’s keen eyes and soldier’s attention to detail.
‘He loved your mother deeply, you know,’ he said.
‘I gather. How do you feel about my father?’
He appreciated her directness. ‘I wish he’d never come but then I would never have met you.’ Gyl could not meet her eyes as he said this. ‘I am trying to keep an open mind
about all that he apparently stands for. But Lauryn,’ he chanced taking her hand again, ‘I may be the King of Tallinor but I am still a simple soldier at heart. I deal with what my eyes can see and my ears can hear. All this talk of magic and angry gods and…you appearing from some different world to save this world—well it all befuddles me.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I do understand. I hardly know what I’m doing here myself. Save the world? Ha! How? But Gyl, look at me.’ He did. Lauryn cast and aged herself by fifty years or so. She watched the horror come across his face as he shrank back from the touch of her gnarled fingers. Then just as fast she snapped the glamour off and she was Lauryn again.
There was no amusement in her face when she said: ‘How do you suppose that happens if there is no magic in this world?’
The King was clearly shocked. ‘What else?’
‘What else can I do? Lots. I have no idea of the limitations of this power. Remember the man you found lying by the tree not far from where we thought Sorrel died?’ He nodded. ‘I did that. And I did it by pushing out with my mind…no hands, no weapon…just my powers.’ He shook his head, half with disbelief and half with dread understanding. She continued. ‘And the lad you were looking for? Well, I think I broke several of his limbs when I cast out with my mind and threw him high into the air. He landed heavily.’ She looked sheepish but Gyl could not laugh.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted.
‘There is nothing to say. I feel as clueless as you but I trust my father. He has brought us back to do
something. You must trust him too. If you care about me, if you care about our mother…Light Gyl!…if you care about Tallinor, we have to trust that Tor and Alyssa know things we do not.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Don’t be sceptical any more. Be open to suggestion. Allow yourself that magic is here and around us and that it can be used for good but there is a darker side and I believe that’s what we face now.’
He nodded. ‘My mother…our mother counselled me along the same lines before she left. I gave her my word I would make preparations for extra security in the Kingdom.’
‘Don’t hesitate. Something bad is coming. My father was forced to confront it before we came to Tal. Not here in Tallinor but somewhere else. This god’s intention is to destroy all of us and to raze Tallinor.’
‘How do I know who my enemy is?’
‘You don’t,’ she said. ‘None of us do. But my father will recognise him. For now, we must trust those who know more than us, who have been preparing longer.’
Lauryn looked towards the sun setting behind the hills. She sighed. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘Yes,’ he admitted, making no move to leave. ‘Lauryn, will you stay close over the next few days? I could use a friend around the place. This whole coronation business is daunting.’
‘Of course I will. It would be an honour. You’re going to be a brilliant King for Tallinor. I know it. And all the nobles will want to marry you off to their daughters.’
He pulled a face. ‘I know this. That’s why I’m asking you to remain close.’
‘To put them off?’ She laughed, amused by his sudden anxiety.
‘No,’ he said very deliberately. ‘Not to put them off. To let them know my heart is spoken for.’
It was as though a mighty wind had rushed through her and sucked all her breath away as it passed. She swallowed, trying to breathe, trying to find a voice…
any
sound.
He met her eyes. ‘I’m not sure where that notion came from but I’m glad that it is out and in the open between us. Have I disturbed you by saying it?’
She shook her head, still unable to utter a sound. A random thought passed through her mind; an echo from the past.
She would catch herself a fine man one day. He would be strong and witty and a leader amongst men. They would be madly in love and he would never want any other but her.
Here was such a man. She could not deny that in the past few hours she had felt herself drawn deeper and deeper into his life. She would be lying if she did not admit that she was captivated by him and would be jealous of any other woman who held his desires. It would be folly to suggest—as tentative as it was—that it was not the strongest of desires she was feeling towards this man. And here he was boldly speaking her thoughts back to her.
‘Please say something,’ he said, quietly, looking at her hand in his.