Karigan glanced at the papers. An old stained sheaf looked to be a ship’s crew roster, and there was her father’s name. She grabbed the nearest lamp and burned them right there in the corridor.
“Although one cannot say for sure Lord Mirwell’s motive in bringing this evidence forward at this time,” Colin said, “it appears he holds some malice toward your clan. Rider Spencer herself dug up the information under old Lord Mirwell’s command a couple years ago, and assures us this is the extent of it, and you know she is thorough. However, one cannot say for sure if Lord Mirwell won’t come forward more publicly, though without evidence he won’t have much of a case, but it may embarrass your clan. In light of this, the king asked me to reassure you that Clan G’ladheon has his favor and protection.”
Colin seemed about ready to end the incredible conversation, but he paused and smiled. “One more thing, Sir Karigan. You are now entitled not only to lands in Coutre Province, but anywhere in Sacoridia you like. The king emphasized how lovely Hillander Province is in any season.”
With that, Colin excused himself and returned to the reception. Karigan stood there in the corridor, the medals dragging on her neck. She put her hand to her temple, unable to process all she’d experienced and been told this day.
She’d acquired honors and lands. She was a knight of the realm. Her father had been a pirate? She sighed. She really needed to sit down and have a lengthy chat with him, about his trying to marry her off and the various digressions of his past. The Golden Rudder. The Gold Hunter. He was really into gold. And she groaned.
But everything could wait. She listened for a moment to the clamor coming from the reception. She ought to return, but she did not. No, it was sunny out, and not too cold, and Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon was of a mind that it was a perfect time to saddle her horse and go for a ride. A long ride.
Pleased by her plan, she set off with long, swift strides, never knowing that just moments later, her king stepped out into the corridor desiring to speak with her.
Zachary had observed Karigan depart the festivities with Colin, but to his dismay, she did not return to the throne room when his counselor did. He wished ardently to talk with her—alone—before the event was over and so he tried to make his way through the throne room to the corridor, but it was no easy task to break away from all those who clamored for his attention.
When he at last reached the corridor, she was already gone. Gone like a spirit of the wind he would never be able to grasp.
He stood there in the empty corridor, feeling bereft, feeling she was beyond his reach because of more than the gulf created by his royal status and her common blood. He’d sensed a difference about her since the tombs, a mystery. It was subtle, something in her eyes, an aspect of midnight, as though she’d been touched by something not of this world.
He feared for her; feared for himself that she was slipping away, that he’d lose her entirely. It only strengthened his desire to fold her into his arms, to bring her closer, to protect her. He refused…he refused to let her go, to be taken by…by what?
He stood there, rubbed his upper lip in consternation. Then closed his eyes and bowed his head, the babble in the throne room fading away. She could be taken by anything. Her job, her duty, it was dangerous. Any message errand she went out on could be her last. He could command that she go on only the simplest of errands, the least dangerous ones, but even his royal status could not override her calling.
And it would not be enough to safeguard her. What he sensed about her, what aroused his fear, went beyond her work as a messenger, beyond the here and now. He could not place what it was that made him fearful, could not name it, but there was something, and his only desire was to protect her from it, whatever it was.
Actually, there was more he desired. Their brief touch at the dais had not been enough, only begged for more, only intensified his need. But she was gone…
He knew very well his obligation to the realm and Lady Estora, he knew he should return to the throne room, but the impulse to search for Karigan was powerful, like a fever. He took a step forward, but then Laren was there at his side, placing her hand on his arm.
“Your Majesty,” she said, “many of your subjects still wish to speak with you, and there is Lady Estora wondering where you’ve gone.”
He struggled inside himself, obligation warring against desire. But the stakes for the realm, he knew, were too great for him to follow his heart.
But still he hesitated. He took a deep breath, and another. He promised himself that even while fulfilling his responsibilities, he would do whatever was in his power to protect Karigan. No matter what. With this oath in place, he buried to the deepest regions within all that he wished for himself. He was the high king of Sacoridia and his personal happiness was irrelevant.
“Of course,” he replied, and he allowed Laren to lead him back into the throne room, but he could not help glancing over his shoulder into the empty corridor.
HUMILITY AND HONOR
“Knighted?” Alton asked.
Garth nodded solemnly. “It was a big secret when I left, but the captain thought you’d want to know so she told me. I swore an actual oath not to tell anyone till I reached you.”
They both stared at Dale when she started shaking with laughter. The three Riders sat in Tower of the Heavens before the hearth with a blazing fire keeping them warm, despite the gaping hole above through which cold air and snow whorled down to the chamber. Garth had been astonished by the mess he found, and even more so to find his friends had not been squashed by falling rocks or columns.