“To the estate of Lixnea, the Moon. Marit is going to renew his bonds of friendship with the other Stoneborn on a grand tour of the Summerlands,” Taran said in a voice that carried. When I frownedat that, he said in a lower voice, “And Genna would like to know where the other Stoneborn stand now on the question of what to do about our delinquent mortal worshippers.”
He looked at me like he was waiting for something, which I realized was athank you, Taran, for bringing me along.
“Has anyone seen Death?” I asked instead.
Taran gave an airy wave of his hand, like this was of no importance. “Perhaps we’ll hear news somewhere.”
Marit was attended by two nervous immortal horse-masters and delighted with himself when he got his team to trot a neat circle.
As he pulled to a halt in front of us and hopped down, Awi shot out of my hood, fluttering to the roof of the stables to put some distance between herself and the mercurial god of the ocean.
“Oh dear,” said Marit, watching her go. He looked between the bird and me, face creased with uncertainty. He seemed more cogent than the other evening, but I knew that could change, so I was braced to flee.
“Have we met?” he asked me yet again.
“Yes, this is Iona, my priestess,” Taran patiently answered for me.
“Do I owe her an apology?”
“I’m sure she thinks so.”
“I’m always apologizing, and I can never remember why,” Marit said unhappily. But then he brightened and smiled beneath soft gray eyes. “I do think I’m getting very good at it though! I’m sorry, Iona, for whatever I did—I’ll probably do it again, but I’ll be sorry then too. Do you like my horses?”
It was probably unsafe to reject this sincere expression of feeling, and Ididlike his horses, so I extended my hand and he smacked a kiss to the back of it, grinning. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t try to kill me again, but as I still didn’t know whether that had been Taran’s plan when he asked me to marry him, I was less inclined to hold it against Marit.
At the urging of Taran’s hand on my lower back, I approached one of the horses and held out my palm for the animal to sniff. His huff at my mortal scent was somewhat skeptical, but so was I, with one daring hand on the velvet of a perfect equine nose.
“We’re supposed to ride in that chariot?” I whispered to Taran.
He looked down at my bad foot. “Can you stand in one? I’ve been meaning to have a peace-priest come look at your foot.”
I shook my head. Hiwa had looked at my foot, but there was nothing a peace-priest could do once the bones had begun to knit in the wrong places. It needed surgery, and the last maiden-priest could hardly operate on herself.
“I guess I can’t go,” I said sweetly.
Taran smiled even more beautifully.
“Don’t worry, I asked them to bring my horse.”
What was brought, after a short wait in which Marit made me nervous by driving his team in bored circles around the yard, was an enormous white mare whose eyes glowed like heat lightning and whose hooves had the insubstantial outlines of cloud banks. She wore a bridle and reins, but no saddle.
“I’m not riding that,” I said, but Taran just patted the creature’s neck with loving affection.
“Isn’t that your father’s horse?” Marit asked, slowing down to look at her.
“Diopater would wash your mouth out if he heard you accuse him of my paternity,” Taran said, catching me around the waist when I tried to run. “And he doesn’t ride her enough.”
“Who was your father, then?” Marit asked, confused.
“Oh, who even knows. My mother hates that question,” Taran replied, not really answering his friend.
Despite my flailing, he effortlessly deposited me on the horse’s back, where there was only a small blanket for padding. Kicking him in the ribs hurt my foot and made him laugh before he used onehand to vault up behind me, muscular thighs framing mine. The mare turned her head to look at us, sharing my outrage about the situation.
“I’m not a good rider,” I said in a panic—that I’d fall, that Iwouldn’t, wrapped in Taran’s embrace like a lover, with Taran’s arm curled around my waist and his palm splayed over my hip. My blood raced up in my veins to match his heartbeat at my back, traitorous body nothing but exultant to be in his arms again.
Taran chuckled, warm breath tickling my ear.
“I am though.”
