Chapter 22
A NEED FOR SPIES . . . stuck in bed . . . a girl and a horse . . . six kinds of pies
The next few days were ones of tension and turmoil in Barendur Hold. A winter storm moved in, cutting off access to the more remote villages, so Bryn and Rangar were left without any means of receiving reports of more possible berserkir wolf attacks.
Rangar forbade Bryn from leaving bed until her leg healed, and personally brought her stew and ale, and added more wood to their room’s fireplace when it grew low. Ren was kind enough to sit with her for long training sessions on the usage of new hexes. But even practicing magic grew tiresome. After long days sequestered, she finally threw off the covers while Rangar was out and tested her leg.
The skin was still tender where she’d been pinned between Fable and the rock, and her knee was painfully sore, but she found she was perfectly capable of walking with only a slight limp.
Of course, Rangar chose that very moment to check on her.
“What are you doing?” he roared. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”
“You’re a king,” she lobbed at him. “You have more important things to do than play nursemaid to me.”
He stalked toward her, but she had long ago learned not to bow to his growling temper. She rested her hands on her hips. “I want to check on Fable.”
“Fable is fine.” He grabbed her around the waist and set her back on the bed. “Youare not.”
“I am,” she insisted. “You just want to keep me locked up because you’re afraid something worse may happen to me.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” he said between a clenched jaw.
She shoved his hand away. “A lot, frankly.”
His jaw tightened into an even sharper edge, but he stepped back and folded his arms. “I only want to keep you safe, Bryn. It’s my—”
“Duty,” she said with more sympathy. “Thefralenbond. I know, I know. Believe me, Rangar, I know how seriously you take it.” She crossed to him by the window and gently touched his scarred cheek. “Trust that I know what’s best for me. I’ve been working with Ren on mastering new hexes. One to unlock doors, one to heal minor scrapes, one to thicken my skin against a blade.”
His shoulders slowly lowered as he let himself relax into her palm. “You make me proud, Mage Queen.”
She pushed to tiptoes to kiss him but then frowned when she broke away. “Who knows if I’ll even be allowed to be a Mage Queen by the time I finish my apprenticeship and we marry. The way the tide is turning against magic, it’ll be banned throughout the Eyrie before then.”
“You shall be a Mage Queen,” he vowed, brushing his rough thumb over her lips. “And magicwillbe a tool for the people.”
He claimed her lips again, and then as he went to meet with Saraj and the captain of the army to discuss further protective measures for the outer villages, she went to visit Fable in the stables. Taking care with her bruised leg, she limped through the stalls until she found the white mare.
“Sweet, brave girl,” Bryn whispered, holding out a crab apple she’d brought from the kitchen. “Not even wolves can bring you down.”
Fable munched the apple and then nuzzled Bryn for more. Bryn smiled and stroked the horse’s neck around the stitches the stable master had performed on her wound. Bryn had spoken with Ren about the hexes for bonding with horses, and he’d given her a spell to memorize but told her that most of the magic between a rider and horse came not from spells but from trust built over the years.
“I trust you,” Bryn whispered, pressing her forehead to the horse’s forelock. “And I’ll give you every reason to trust me.”
* * *
That afternoon,they received word that the main road might soon be passable by messengers, so she limped to the library and sat down to write the letter to Mars.
Dear brother,
I have worrisome news from the forest kingdoms. Villages along the Baer and Kevi borders have sustained further berserkir wolf attacks. We were even personally attacked within a mile of Barendur Hold, though we are all well. I examined both dead and live wolf specimens and discovered they possess black tongues. The only other time I’ve heard such a thing was from Baron Marmose when he described training his hunting dogs. Prince Anter Jakkinen, Rangar, and I believe these berserkir wolf attacks originate from dark magic within Ruma at the baron’s hand, with the goal of sewing fear of your plan to permit the free use of magic.
I write to request you send some men into Ruma to investigate these claims and discover how the baron might have created such creatures and what we can do to stop them . . . and reassure the populace magic is not to blame.
PS, Despite these dark times, Rangar and I plan to wed at dusk on the day of the new moon. Your and Illiana’s presence would deeply touch my heart.
Yours,
Mouse
