“Reike,” she introduced herself in a low, rumbling voice.
Trisha nodded, moving forward, but even before she’d started questioning the next person, she’d already made her choice.
“Her.” She pointed toward Reike.
Surprise flew over Fjorten’s face. “Shield Stammek,” he said as the other guards started drifting away from the room. “Should go without saying what the Warlord expects.”
“Yes, Shield Master.” Reike nodded, turning. A network of lines crinkled around her eyes. “Very well, Bard. Very well. Let us see how it goes.”
Outside the barracks, Fjorten addressed Reike, “Your father should arrive soon.”
“Aye. I’m looking forward to learning the news from home.” The shield fell silent, adding, “I heard Chief Wolfbach is here… with his nephew.”
The hesitant undertone caught Trisha’s ears. “You know them?”
It was Fjorten who responded, “She gave Ernaut his scar.”
Annath’s adjutant? “Why?”
“Some men think all women want to be carried off to bed,” Reike said, teeth flashing. “Ernaut needed a bit of schooling.”
“Didn’t seem to teach him too well.” Fjorten watched as a group of young boys chased a squealing piglet.
“I wouldn’t say so.” Reike scratched behind her ear. “As far as I know, he’s not called up the carry-off again.”
A brisk wind flapped the deep violet flags and banners. Trisha asked, “Brideabduction?”
“Ergoth made it the law after he joined the clans,” Fjorten said.
Reike snorted. “Stupid law, if you ask me.”
“It’s an old one,” he admitted, “and you know how the Warlord feels about it.”
Fjorten looked at the gate leading to the inner courtyard. “Keep her safe. Come find me once you’re back, Shield Stammek.” With a clipped bow to Trisha, he marched away.
Dapple protested when he saw the lead, but Trisha laughed, pointing at the hay in his feed bowl. “No lies. You just want to eat.”
His ears lowered, and she kissed him on the muzzle before leading the horse back out to be saddled.
Reike was already waiting with a stocky brown mare, and Dapple’s countenance cheered. He let out a happy neigh. No mention of his tired legs. Eagerly, he prodded at her, telling her to hurry. Trisha smiled.
They rode under the portcullis, long stalks of thistledrift swaying next to the moat. Reike waved a hand at her colleagues as they took the northbound route. Trisha inhaled the sweet scent of wildflowers and salt in the wind. Over their heads, sparrows flitted to catch insects. Unexpectedly, Dapple decided to veer too close to Reike and nip at the mare’s hide.
“Will you stop?” she snapped at Dapple when he, once again, brushed too close to the mare. “If you won’t, you’ll ride with me only. And no treats, either.”
He wagged his ears.
“I mean it, Dapple.”
Reike gave Trisha a long, studying look. The quiet lasted until she commented, “He understands? Your speaking, that is.”
Trisha blushed. “Well, I tell myself he does.” She glared at her steed. “Although I’m starting to doubt his sense.”
Dapple nickered.
Reike wiped her chin, eyes thoughtful. “Seems he does. Didn’t know southern horses had that skill.”
“We’ve been together for years,” Trisha said. “Not unheard of for the rider and their horse to get close.”
