Ren’s eyes glittered in the dying candle’s light. “Bryn, wake up. Rangar has returned.”
* * *
Bryn barely knewthe time of night as she barreled down the stairs to the great hall. It must have been well past midnight, with most of the common folk asleep on the floor with the slumbering livestock. She picked her way excitedly among the sleeping bodies to the entrance, where Valenden already waited.
Breathless, she started to dash out into the snow, but Valenden snagged her arm. “Not so fast, princess. He isn’t here yet.” Valenden pointed to the roof. “The scouts spotted a rider approaching on the southern road.”
“It’s Rangar? They’re sure?” she gasped.
Valenden nodded. “He lit two lanterns when he passed Thetly Village—that’s the signal.”
Bryn clasped her hands as she paced in the foyer, watching the town square for any sign of him. How long did it take to ride from Thetly Village to the Hold? After a painstaking few minutes, she finally spotted two lights shining through the snowfall.
Shrieking, she darted toward the drawbridge, but once more, Valenden stopped her.
“Wait!” Valenden sighed and kicked off his boots. “Here. Put these on. Those house shoes won’t hold up for five minutes in the snow. And take a cloak!”
Bryn snatched a cloak off a hook and tossed it over her shoulders as she hurtled into the snow. The few lanterns in the village square cast orbs of light on the snowflakes swirling overhead. Valenden’s too-big boots threatened to trip her as she ran toward the approaching riders.
With all the riders cloaked against the snow, it was Legend she recognized first. But as soon as Rangar spotted her running toward him, he slid off the horse and closed the distance between them in a few strides.
“Rangar!” she cried.
He swept her into his arms with enough force that she twirled in a circle, Valenden’s boots nearly falling off her feet. He set her back down and captured her face between his gloved hands, holding her steady for a kiss.
“Bryn.” His breath steamed in the cold air. With chapped lips, he pressed more kisses on her cheeks. “Gods, it feels good to hold you.”
She clutched his shoulders as she peered up at him with questions in her eyes. “You really found proof of Broderick’s guilt?”
Rangar peered over his shoulder at the other riders, who were dismounting in the village square. Oliver was among them, as well as a few other soldiers Bryn recognized, but there was a new horse and rider, too.
“Let’s get inside.” Rangar squinted up at the snow. “Before you freeze.”
She let out a gruff laugh, thinking of the mage apprentice initiation. A few minutes in the cold with boots and a cloak was nothing compared to what she’d endured.
When Rangar gave her a questioning look, she shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. Come.”
One of the soldiers led Legend to the barn, and Bryn and Rangar moved into the foyer where Valenden waited. Rangar greeted his brother, who delivered the troubling news of King Aleth’s health.
But Bryn’s attention turned away from their conversation as the extra rider stepped into the foyer, dusted snow off his cloak, and pushed the hood back.
“Alain?” she said in surprise.
It was Broderick’s father, the Mir refugee who had doubted her at first but later pledged his support when she’d agreed to marry Trei for the good of their kingdoms.
Broderick might be dead—but it seemed his father knew his secrets.
Chapter 14
NO GREATER PAIN . . . fathers and sons . . . a turn for the worse . . . a pivotal lie . . . long live the king
“Alain,” Bryn repeated, moving closer to the old farrier. “I thought you’d returned to the Mirien with the other refugees.”
The elderly man placed a stern look on Rangar—it seemed clear he wished to be anywhere but there. Then again, he wasn’t in chains, so he must have come of his free accord.
“My lady,” Alain said gruffly. “The Saints demand justice, so here I am, though it is not my wish.”
She stared at him in bald shock. Was he really going to denounce his own son as a murderer? From what little that she’d known of Alain, he’d been utterly dedicated to the Mirien’s wellbeing, but it was hard to believe any father would place duty to kingdom over duty to his son’s reputation.
