“Why not?”
“ ’Cuz she’s common.”
“I don’t care—I like her. She brought me candy—loads of it from Master Gruntler’s Sugary in Sacor City.”
“Did not!”
“Did so!”
Alton wasn’t sure who poked whom first, but another full scale scuffle was threatening to erupt, this time on poor Night Hawk’s back. The gelding lowered his head and heaved a mournful sigh.
“Now stop!” Alton cried. “Stop or you can both walk back.”
This settled them down—a little.
“Did so,” Marc said under his breath.
Teral turned in the saddle to stick out his tongue, but they banged foreheads, and ended up laughing up roarously. Alton rolled his eyes.
When he had brought Karigan to Woodhaven for the mid-winter holiday, Marc had taken to her like a long-lost sister. Karigan, with no siblings of her own, and little experienced around young ones, was a bit overwhelmed at first, but soon the two were fast friends. Marc showed her his favorite pony, a litter of pups in the stable, his collection of toy warriors, the decorative short sword he wore on state occasions, his secret place in the wine cellar he thought no one else knew about, and that was within the first half hour. He dragged her along by the hand, she laughing all the way. It was certainly a side of Karigan Alton hadn’t seen before.
“So are you gonna marry Lady Estora?” Teral demanded.
“And have babies?” Marc chimed in.
Alton halted so abruptly one of the ponies bumped its nose into the small of his back.
“Why do you ask?”
“ ’Cuz Pendric told Lady Valia that Lady Estora wouldn’t have some Greenie for a husband. It’s beneath her.”
“She wouldn’t have your brother neither,” Marc said.
Aaah, Alton thought. Pendric’s offer to Lord Coutre had been rejected then. He licked his lips, relieved. Not that Lord Coutre hadn’t received and rejected a hundred such proposals from other prospective suitors, but it would have been galling if, out of all of them, Pendric’s had been accepted.
Alton walked on, tugging on the reins of the ponies, wondering what the status of his own proposal was. His father had sent it to Coutre Province with one of his most trusted retainers, about two months ago. Thought of it made his insides churn.
Lady Estora was desirable to many a suitor, not only for her near legendary beauty, but for her status as heir of Coutre Province. Marrying her would create a very beneficial alliance for whomever won her favor—not only with Coutre Province, but with all the other provinces east of the Wingsong Mountains, as well. Old Lord Coutre, it was said, kept his daughter at the castle in Sacor City to exhibit her like a prize, and those seeking alliance and power were undeterred in their pursuit of her.
Alton had had few interactions with her, but was impressed by her genuine warmth and kindness. He knew she had been F’ryan Coblebay’s lover. All the Riders knew, and kept her secret, a secret that could cause her conservative father to disown her if he ever found out. Yet, he felt uncomfortable around her, like she was more of a masterwork of art than a real woman.
He shook his head. It was just as well he had left Sacor City where he was apt to encounter Estora, or Karigan for that matter. He had always known he’d marry for station and alliance, not love or friendship, but it didn’t make things any easier.
Wind tousled his hair and flipped leaves, revealing their silvery undersides. Two riders approached and he immediately recognized Pendric’s broad form and thick black hair. He sat upon an impressive bay hunter, a finely bred animal to say the least. Pendric’s countenance was angry, and he looked no happier to see Alton.
Beside him Lady Valia rode side-saddle upon her mare, her skirts draped decorously behind her. He had seen her a couple years ago when she was—what?—twelve? She had grown and blossomed into a pretty young lady.
Pendric swatted his horse with his riding crop to canter the short distance to Alton and the boys, then pulled sharply on the reins when he reached them.
“What do you think you were doing by running off?” Pendric demanded of the boys, ignoring Alton altogether.
The boys chattered their excuses in high-pitched voices until Pendric cut them off. “Enough.” He pointed the crop at them, spooking his horse in the process. He yanked on the reins again. With such rough handling, it wouldn’t be long before the hunter had a sour disposition. Not unlike its rider. No matter, Uncle Landrew would likely buy without hesitation another finely bred steed for Pendric to ruin.
“You will have Jayna and father to answer to when you get back,” Pendric said.
“Then we’ll tell Da you were kissing Lady Valia,” Teral said.
Pendric glowered, and a pretty pink blush colored Valia’s cheeks. “You will not.” He whirled his mount around to ride away.
“What?” Alton called out after him. “No greeting for your cousin?”
Pendric halted and turned in his saddle. “Hello.” The word came out cold and gruff.
Valia, in contrast, smiled warmly and bowed her head. “Hello, Lord Alton.”
Alton inclined his head in return. “My lady.”
This pleasant exchange set Pendric off. His pock-marked cheeks flared crimson. He grabbed the bridle of Valia’s mare and swerved her about, almost dislodging her from her saddle. He slapped his own mount with the crop and sped off at a canter. Teral and Marc made smooching noises after them. Alton smiled, doubting Pendric heard, and thinking it was probably a good thing.