horse, she caught sight of a second group of very different riders. They wore the dark skins and leathers of the Goeren-yai, their hair long and wild, some with rings in their ears that glinted in the torchlight. The banner carried by one was their only identification—green with three diagonal black stripes. Taneryn. One man in particular was giving orders—a huge man in a big fur coat with a bushy beard to match.
“Your Highness will catch a chill,” Anyse said stubbornly.
“You're getting wet, you should be more worried for yourself.”
“Goeren-yai don't catch chills,” Anyse replied. “Only stubborn princesses who should have more sense than to venture out on stormy nights.”
Then Damon was approaching, his mud-spattered boots splashing in puddles. In his full colours, armour and sword, Sofy barely recognised him…until he pulled off his helm, revealing a face tired and wet with rain, his dark hair plastered flat to his head. He saw Sofy and managed a weary smile.
Sofy refrained with difficulty from hugging him, settling instead for a sisterly kiss on both his cheeks. “Walk with me,” he told her. “I must present Lord Krayliss immediately to father. No doubt there are things to be said.”
“Lord Krayliss!” Sofy gasped, hurrying to walk at his side. “So that's who that big man with the beard is!”
Anyse gave up trying to cover Sofy's head, walking instead at her heels alongside a Royal Guardsman who took Damon's helm for him.
“What happened?” Sofy asked Damon as they followed the torchbearers toward Soros Square. “Why is Krayliss here? Did he come willingly? I haven't been able to discover a thing lately; it's been so frustrating!”
Damon smiled faintly. “Sasha fought a duel against Farys Varan, son of Udys Varan.”
Sofy stared at him, aghast. “A duel! Is she…?”
“Our sister is well,” Damon pronounced, with more than an edge of tension. “Farys is not.” Sofy clasped a hand to her chest with a gasp of relief. “Krayliss apparently took this as a sign from the spirits…one in particular he called the Synnich. He now claims Sasha is guided by the Synnich and has placed himself under the protection of her word. Otherwise, I'm sure he and Lord Usyn would be fighting to the death right about now.”
“A duel!” Sofy exclaimed once more, in disbelief. Past that announcement, she'd heard very little Damon said. “What was Sasha doing fighting a duel? You swore to me you'd look after her!”
“Sofy,” said her brother with exasperation, “one does not ‘look after’ Sasha, any more than one ‘looks after’ a wild animal. She does what she does, and the best any in her vicinity can hope is to remain alive at the end of it.” And to Sofy's continuing, accusatory stare, he added, “Farys insulted Krystoff's memory. It was calculated, I'm sure his elders put him up to it.”
“Oh dear lords,” Sofy exclaimed. And shook her head in despair. “Old family history. I swear nothing causes more catastrophes in this kingdom than old family history. Shall we ever be free of it?”
“Twelve years is not old history, Sofy,” Damon said sombrely. “I remember Krystoff well.” Sofy gazed at him. He seemed more serious, somehow, than when he had left. More adult. The look in his eyes was the look of a young man concerned with matters far greater than himself. Prior to this ride, there had not been so many of those.
“What is it, Damon?” Sofy asked him. “What happened out there?”
Damon sighed and shook his head. “I'll tell you later,” he said.
The road opened onto Soros Square, a vast expanse of stone paving centred by the Verenthane Angel of Mercy. On the left were grand stone buildings fronting the square with ornate facades, pillars, arches and windows. To the right, the great front gate, open to the traffic of early evening and surrounded by many guards who warmed themselves near the blazing fires beyond the wall.
“Sasha sends her love,” Damon added.
“She is coming to Rathynal?” Sofy asked.
“She'd better,” Damon said darkly. “Krayliss will make a fuss if she doesn't.”
“And Kessligh?”
“That was the impression.” Sofy was glad to hear that…and yet nervous, too. There were probably only three men she'd known in her life whom she'd never been able to charm: Her father, Koenyg and Yuan Kessligh Cronenverdt. He loved Sasha, that was clear to her, even if Sasha was sometimes uncertain, and the relationship they shared was utterly remarkable in its unlikeliness. And yet, somehow, when he looked