Chapter 10
RANGAR'S FIRST GIFT . . . a naughty lamb . . . goodbyes . . . Fable and Legend . . . a snowy ride
The following day, heavy snow fell at Barendur Hold. Bryn wanted to spend the morning snuggling with Rangar under their reindeer pelt blankets, but with him under house arrest, it was up to her to tend to Valenden and spend time in the village to get a sense of the common folk’s sentiments.
As soon as she set foot in the sheep barn, animals and farm girls alike flocked to her.
“Lady Bryn!” The head shepherdess, a woman a few years older than Bryn with a sleeping baby swaddled in a sling around her chest, gave a wide smile. “What good tidings to have you back! We feared you would never return from the Mirien. Look at your troublemaker little lamb—he’s all grown up now, eh?”
Bryn knelt in the straw as the lamb, now almost a full-grown sheep, gave her shoulder a gentle head butt. She grinned and scratched his head. “And this little one made her arrival!” Bryn stood and dusted off her hands before patting the sleeping baby. “A healthy delivery?”
“It was.” The shepherdess beamed. “You’ve my gratitude for managing my flock while I was on bed rest. I didn’t think a princess would be tromping up to the high pasture every day with them!”
Bryn waved away the concern. “I enjoyed it. Besides, the Baer princes are always pitching in with the farm work.”
“Oh, they’re used to it,” the woman scoffed. “They’re lords in name, yes, but you’re a reallady.”
Bryn picked some sheep hair off her skirt and asked hesitantly, “What are people saying about our return?”
The shepherdess’s face slowly grew serious. The other farm girls suddenly found their chores of pressing concern. “Well,” the woman said, patting her baby gently, “There’s the ugly business of Prince Trei’s murder going unsolved. Few believe Prince Rangar had anything to do with it, but there’s still a murderer somewhere out there on the loose. People have been nervous. And King Aleth’s failing health has everyone on edge. No one knows what will happen with the succession.” She fished an errant piece of straw out of Bryn’s hair tenderly. “But everyone is happy for you and Prince Rangar, my lady. About the engagement. Will we be seeing a wreath of maiden roses in the village square soon?”
Bryn’s mind flashed back to her doomed wedding with Trei, which was announced by hanging a wreath of maiden roses in the public square.
That’s in the past, she assured herself.
She cajoled herself to give the shepherdess a smile. “Perhaps you will.”
The farm girls, who had clearly been eavesdropping, giggled excitedly to think about a royal wedding.
When Bryn returned to Barendur Hold, she felt in better spirits to know that public sentiment supported her and Rangar. In their chambers, she found Rangar with Oliver going over a map stretched out on the dining table.
“ . . . and we’ll save the north for last. It’s unlikely he’d head that way,” Rangar finished.
Oliver nodded, glanced at Bryn, and rolled up the map. “Yes, my lord.”
He strode out of the room, and Bryn turned to Rangar. “What was that about?”
Rangar prowled around the room as he gathered a rucksack and began filling it withstatuapipe tobacco and extra wool undergarments. “My aunt has given me leave to hunt down Broderick. I’ll depart this evening with a team of soldiers.”
“We only just returned yesterday!”
He paused in packing his bag, then resumed. “You’ve seen my father’s state. Time is not on our side.”
Bryn refolded the wool clothes he’d carelessly thrown in his pack and tucked them in more orderly. “Are the soldiers coming along to help you find Broderick, or to keep you a prisoner?”
“A bit of both, I think.”
She rubbed her face, trying to process everything. “Well at least I discovered that most of the townspeople don’t think you killed Trei.”
“Oh, good,” Rangar muttered darkly. “People I’ve grown up with, known my whole life, broken bread with and starved with at times, too—I’m glad they don’t think I’m a murderer.”
Bryn quietly gathered a blanket and tucked that into his bag, too, knowing he never bothered to take care of himself against the cold.
At her silence, he sighed and pinched his nose. “I’m sorry, Bryn. My mind is elsewhere. If I can just find Broderick . . .”
“I know.” She placed a soothing hand on his chest.
His tight muscles eased. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’ll be all right here alone?”
