They decided to depart after the following day’s prayer for Aleth’s soul. Mage Marna pried Bryn away from Rangar to ply her with books and scrolls for her to take on the journey to study and to share with Vil-Kevi’s mages.
“Remember,” Mage Marna advised, “how you survived the initiation. You may not have many hexes, but you can use the ones you do have wisely.”
Bryn nodded solemnly. Her heart was racing when they saddled their horses and departed Barendur Hold. The fastest path to Higharbor Keep was over Barkksin Pass, which was too steep for a carriage. But it was a journey of only one day, and despite the danger, Bryn looked forward to the ride on Fable.
“I’ve never been to Higharbor Keep,” Bryn said once they’d traversed a few miles on the road. “My parents thought it too unrefined for my siblings and me to visit.”
“It’s a beautiful castle,” Valenden told her. “From the inside, at least.”
“What do you mean?” Bryn asked.
“Oh, perhaps it’s also beautiful from the outside, but it’s hard to tell. It’s shrouded by towering evergreens that keep its exterior largely hidden even in the winter. A defensive measure.”
“The Jarkkinen family and the Barendurs have always been allies,” Rangar explained. “As well as the Viklund family of Vil-Rossengard. For centuries, the three northern kingdoms of the Eyrie were isolated before better roads were built. We had to rely on one another. If one of us needs help, the others answer.”
The path soon took them up into the mountains, where the snowfall was deeper, but Fable was surefooted. Rangar watched her riding with a curious grin.
“What?” she asked. “Remember, I’m new to riding. Don’t criticize me too harshly.”
“My love, I would never. On the contrary, I was admiring your form. You’ll be an excellent rider soon.” He leaned in closer. “As excellent as when I ride you in the bedroom.”
Valenden, overhearing, groaned.
Bryn gave Rangar a scolding look as she nudged Fable ahead on the narrow path, but she only teased. Her mother would have condemned her for making love with a man who wasn’t yet her husband, and it was just another reason Bryn was glad to call the Baersladen her home now. Married or not, coupling with Rangar couldn’t possibly be a sin—it was heaven to have his hands on her body, feel their two bodies join.
Her cheeks started to warm as she remembered the last time he’d pleasured her. Maybe “heaven” was the wrong word. There was nothing saintly about what they’d done . . .
“I hope you’re prepared to be parents,” Valenden pointed out wryly. “With as often as you two have been going at it.”
Bryn paused to wonder about the risk of getting pregnant. They had only started to consummate their love, and she knew it could take months for a woman to fall pregnant, yet she’d also been warned it could happen as soon as the first time. She gently touched her belly. While it wouldn’t be the worst thing to fall pregnant with Rangar’s child, she still had so much she wanted to learn before becoming a mother: how to ride, how to cast magic, how to speak Baer without the translation hex’s aid.
“Val has a point, Rangar,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll speak to Ren when we return to Barendur Hold about teas that could . . . prevent such things until we’re ready.”
Rangar scowled. “Ready? I was ready to put a baby in you the first time I bedded you.”
Her cheeks warmed. “We aren’t married yet.”
He dismissed that concern with a head shake. “We will be before any child would be born.”
“Rangar, be reasonable. There is no harm in waiting a few months, maybe years, to try . . .”
He stopped Legend short and turned around to face Bryn. “You don’t want to bear my child?”
Valenden groaned. “Here we go . . .” he muttered, settling back on his horse to watch the two bicker like it was a spectator sport.
Chapter 18
A BREAK IN THE JOURNEY . . . crossing the border . . . magic and a nap . . . on her knees
“Of course I want to bear your child!” Bryn exclaimed. “Just not yet. I'm still young."
“Many in the Eyrie bear children younger than you.”
She squeezed her fist in Fable’s mane. “That doesn’t make it right. Besides, I can’t study to be a mage apprentice with a baby on my hip.” Rangar’s eyes narrowed as he couldn’t argue against this point. She emphasized, “If you want a Mage Queen, you’ll have to wait to sire a child on me.”
Rangar’s eyes dropped to her belly. “And if you’re already with child? Val is right. We haven’t been taking precautions.”
Her cheeks warmed again. “I’m not. A woman . . . can tell these things.”
