“Rangar?” Trei snorted. “Not likely. There might be no law against it, but Lady Bryn’s parents are determined to keep them apart. They don’t believe in thefralenbond. They think Rangar wants to steal their daughter away.”
Trei knew that Saraj had strong feelings about thefralenbond, the belief that a life saved is a soul owned. She had once saved her friend from drowning in the ocean; now, they were as close as sisters. To the outside world, thefralenbond felt harsh and domineering, but everyone in the Baersladen knew it was more about a lifelong connection between two equals, taking a soul from death’s claim and guarding it as one’s own obligation.
“Won’t he?” Saraj asked.
Trei had to admit that he wasn’t entirely certain what lengths Rangar would go to in order to see his Mir princess again. They would be attending the Low Sun Gathering in a month’s time, and Rangar had been busy practicing the Mir language so he could speak with Lady Bryn. Trei knew his brother wasn’t capable of violence, but he also knew how fiercely dedicated Rangar was to the girl whose life he’d saved.
“Rangar is a man of honor. He might be obsessed with the idea of Lady Bryn, but he hardly knows her. She could be mean as an ogre. Or perhaps she’ll find him utterly distasteful, and Rangar isn’t one to force a woman to marry him. If he has marriage on his mind, he’s getting far ahead of himself.”
She finished tying her dress’s laces. “What about Valenden? Do you think he’ll ever marry?”
Trei rolled his eyes. “He’d sooner take an arrow to the heart.”
“He has plenty of paramours.”
“Yes, just how he likes it. Willing bodies to warm his bed who he can kick out in the morning.”
Saraj made a teasing sound deep in her throat. “That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
Trei’s face fell. Every time Saraj talked about wanting nothing more than sex with him, he felt like he’d taken an arrow to his own heart. He wanted so much more with her than a quick, secretive screw. She was by his side when he thought of his future as king. If she didn’t desire to be queen, he could accept that. Baer traditions were not rigid, and he didn’t think anyone would blink an eye if they were a couple yet unmarried.
Still, married or not, he wanted her commitment.
“Right.” His tone was clipped. “I should get to the swordsmanship training before the master comes looking for me.”
Saraj’s eyes softened. “Trei, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, Saraj.”
He gave Zephyr a pat, hoping the bird wasn’t planning on plucking out his eyes in the middle of the night, and left.
All that evening, Trei trained hard, trying to forget that Saraj favored freedom over him. He would take whatever crumbs she offered him and keep the hope alive that one day she might see him as she saw her bird: a companion in freedom, not a trap.
Chapter5
Valenden
Valenden stumbled out of The Whale tavern sometime after midnight, squinting at the hazy clouds. Were the trees swaying, or was he? By the gods, just how much ale had he drank that night?
“Hey. Prince.”
The sharp voice came from a trio of burly men stalking down the alley toward Valenden. He tried to stop his vision from spinning long enough to pin down their faces. The one in front, who had spoken, had a jaw like a bull’s and fists like a bear’s.
Sacred hell.
It was Maira’s three older brothers, whose long days farming had turned them into nothing but walking muscles.
Valenden held up his hands. “Your sister isn’t here. Maira left with Shusana and that seamstress girl…I always forget her name…a few minutes ago.”
In truth, he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the girls had left. He’d gotten so drunk that one minute they’d been there, their sweet little backsides pressed in his lap, their lips on his mouth and neck and cheeks, and then suddenly he’d been alone, asleep with his face pressed into a sticky spot on the table in the nearly empty tavern.
“Maira isn’t one of your playthings,” the eldest brother threatened.
“I think it’s more the other way around,” Valenden pointed out, hiccupping. “If anyone is a plaything, it’s me.”
His legs suddenly gave out in the slippery mud, but the man shot out an arm and caught him before he fell.
“Thank—”
