“That’s the other thing. We didn’t know if he was an ally or enemy. We wanted to question you both first before revealing our identity.”
“Valenden is many things,” Bryn said. “But he’s not an enemy. I’d trust him with my life.”
Elysander gave her sister a sly look. “And this newlywed charade . . . is it truly just for show? He’s a handsome man, though his reputation for drink and debauchery has reached us even in Dresel.”
Bryn scoffed. She thought back to her kiss with Valenden on the night of the Harvest Gathering and what a mistake it had been. “Val is only a friend,” she insisted. “It’s his brother who . . . ” She trailed off, not sure how to finish. “I’m not talking about Trei.”
“You mean the younger prince. Rangar Barendur.” Elysander’s eyes flashed. “Yes, I remember what happened with the wolf attack. He claimed you all those years ago. Thefralenbond.”
Bryn didn’t have the energy to explain everything that had happened since then, how she’d grown from fearing Rangar to loving him with her entire soul.
She said quietly, “He’s currently locked in a dungeon, and I’m afraid it’s my fault.” She turned toward Duke Dryden. “Is there any way your bandits could help him?”
Duke Dryden stroked his chin. “So now I haveboththe Lindane sisters asking for favors?”
Elysander nudged her husband in the ribs. “Jon.”
He relented. “How far is Barendur Hold from here?”
“On horseback?” Bryn did a quick calculation. “Maybe three days’ ride. Twice that on foot.”
Duke Dryden looked off toward the distant mountains. “I’ll send a few men to quietly look into the situation and see what is possible. That is all I can promise at the moment.”
“Thank you, Jon,” Elysander said, gently touching his wrist. Bryn was surprised to see this display of true affection between the two of them. Elysander and Duke Dryden had been betrothed since Elysander was born and the duke had been fifteen years old. It was a considerable age difference even now that Elysander was twenty-one and the duke thirty-six. His hair was graying at the temples, and his limp made him appear much older than he was. Yet he was an undeniably attractive man,with light brown skin and dark features and an impish smile that contrasted with his age.
“I’ll leave you two,” he said. “I suspect you have much to catch up on. Dinner should be ready soon—I can smell the wild grouse roasting.”
He descended the ladder, favoring his good leg.
Bryn did smell roasting meat in the air, and her stomach growled. She turned to her sister, knitting her fingers together. “Will you release Val from wherever you’re keeping him?”
“Yes, if you vouch that he is trustworthy.”
“He might steal a few hearts, but that’s all.”
Elysander gave her a quizzical look. “What exactly happened with you and the three Barendur brothers?” She held out her fingers, counting off. “You fell in love with Rangar, fled with Val, yet married Trei?”
Mention of Trei dampened Bryn’s spirits again. She thought of saying goodbye to Saraj and wondered how the falconer was faring.
She sighed. “That essentially sums it up.”
Elysander shook her head, marveling. “And here I feared you were locked in some tower, ravaged by a wild prince, forced to wash his clothes.”
“My life in Barendur Hold was far from a nightmare.” Bryn felt a pang of longing to be back in the Hold, listening to the storm outside and the waves crashing. “I assure you, I wasn’t some helpless prisoner. You have had your adventure . . . ” She touched her arm beneath her sleeve where the finding spell hexmark was carved. “So have I.”
Elysander studied her face as though seeing Bryn no longer as her little sister but as a grown woman.
She wrapped an arm around Bryn’s shoulders and said more jovially, “Come, let’s fetch that scandalous prince of yours andhave something to eat. Our lives are very different when we’re on the road as opposed to home in Dryden Hall, but no less festive.”
They descended from the tree cottage to find a camp had been set up on the forest floor. A few men chopped vegetables and roasted grouse while others passed around flagons of ale. One of the female bandits began explaining the mechanics of their forest village to Bryn, which was only used in summer and fall when there was ample leaf cover and disassembled for winter and spring.
Bryn’s stomach was growling when someone suddenly sidled up beside her, swiping at her mug of ale.
“I’ll take a sip of that if you’d be so good, darling wife.”
Valenden looked no worse the wear for his brief incarceration, though he had a few leaves tangled in his hair. He took a deep drink of Bryn’s ale before handing back the empty mug. “I hear your sister is the one who has us in all this trouble.”
Bryn looked down at the drained mug and rolled her eyes. “We’re lucky Elysander found us and not real bandits.”
