She could also climb four steps—not smoothly, for her knee would never allow that—but easily and without fear.
And so many wonders she saw, so many sea creatures she’d eaten. From the ship, she’d seen more of her realm than ever before. The great white cliffs that marked the western boundary of Syssia were visible in the distance for the last tennight of their voyage.
Those cliffs ran north and became the river gorge that also marked Parsathe’s western boundary. A port city lay near the shore. Not as elegant or as populous as Drahm, yet still bustling with people from the realms north and west of the Burning Plains.
Though there was so much that Yvenne would have liked to stay and see, they could not linger in the city. From almost the moment they disembarked from the swan ship, they heard rumors of soldiers coming from the south—from the direction of the Syssian outpost.
They only remained long enough to collect supplies and horses for the journey east—and to collect more Parsathean riders. Most Parsatheans from this area had already ridden toward Kilren to vote in the gathering for the new Ran, yet those who’d had a farther distance to travel now joined their party. Their numbers swelled to nearly four dozen riders as they left the city, following a well-worn road that would lead them through the rolling hills east of the river.
“Do we ride directly to Kilren?” That from Jakon, a warrior who had returned to Parsathe after serving as a hired sword in the northern realms.
Maddek shook his head. “We ride to meet Enox and the Parsathean army. In the morn, we will separate into two groups—one swift and one slow. I will be in the slow, because my bride may be with child.”
“I will ride in the quick,” Toric said. In the full turn aboard the ship, his features had sharpened and thinned—and he’d spent most of the journey belowdecks with the horses, for the waves continually made him sick. “I am the Dragon’s wings, so make use of me.”
Kelir frowned. “Are you recovered enough to ride with speed?”
“Being on a horse stops my stomach from swinging like the sea.”
Kelir accepted that with a nod. “Fassad, you ride with him. We will meet in the hollow north of the glass fields—and if for any reason we cannot stay there, your wolves can track us.”
The warrior nodded, while Yvenne’s heart beat faster. The glass fields—near Temra’s altar. Where she might finally marry Maddek.
If he still intended to marry her. For he would have no need to after Zhalen attacked them in Parsathean territory.
But he put no distance between them yet. He rode at her side until they made camp; when they settled around the fire, he sat close to her as the new members of their party spoke of the realms they’d traveled to and of all that they’d seen. And in his furs later, Maddek gave her a long, slow fucking that had her clinging to him long after her shudders faded, her head pillowed on his broad chest.
In the quiet afterward, she said softly, “It is as you wanted, then. Syssian soldiers from the outpost invade the Burning Plains. And so my father declares war upon Parsathe.”
His arms tightened around her. “But you will not suffer at his hands.”
As if Maddek could prevent it. It was lovely that he would try, yet Yvenne had no hope that she would escape her fate. “Vela has said that I will.”
He gave a derisive grunt.
Lifting her head, she peered down at his shadowed face. “Do you think she lies?”
“No. But she does not clearly speak. That is why Parsatheans prefer Temra—she makes no promises except to always be beneath our feet. And Rani, who is always truthful in her purpose and clear. Why would Vela not say how and why you will suffer, so that we might prevent it?”
“I do think she speaks plainly,” Yvenne said. “She told Toric why she gives no easy answer. She believes that some things must be experienced to be properly learned.”
His jaw clenched. “You do not need to suffer to learn anything.”
“Then perhaps it is something she cannot prevent, and only prepares me for it.”
“Then plainly she should say that.”
Yvenne huffed out a quiet laugh. Even though Vela looked through her eyes, Maddek did not hesitate to criticize the goddess. “As plainly as you speak?”
He grunted his own amusement. “Vela knows very well what I think.”
So she did. But knowing what the goddess thought in turn was impossible to guess, so Yvenne did not try. For when her mind did wander that way, she wondered if the suffering at her father’s hands meant something entirely different from what she assumed. Vela had said she would suffer more for choosing Maddek, but perhaps that was only because Maddek had taken a route north to lure her father, and Yvenne might have traveled another direction. They knew not for certain whether Zhalen rode with the soldiers from the outpost. He might still be in Syssia, and Yvenne’s suffering at his hands might not come from what he did to her, but from whatever horrors he might visit upon her people.
Yet such wonderings helped no one. If Yvenne tried to imagine all of Vela’s possible meanings, and tried to make choices based on what could not be known, she would be paralyzed with indecision. Better to forge ahead as best she could, and meet her fate when it came for her.
She would suffer. But whatever form that suffering took, she would be strong enough to survive it.
So instead of fretting over what could not be known, she held Maddek close, and slept.
CHAPTER 33
MADDEK
When they finally passed through the hills east of the river and crested the ridge overlooking the Burning Plains, Maddek’s bride was rendered speechless. Ahead of them stretched endless red blossoms—a riot of fireblooms, their petals so red and numerous that the plains appeared aflame.
His chest tight with emotion, Maddek watched as she urged her mount a short distance up the track, seeking a higher viewpoint. Her face was alight with wonder, much as it had been the first time she’d glimpsed the beauty of the sea. Yet now it was his home that she regarded with the same wonder and astonishment.
Mounted beside Maddek, Kelir asked quietly, “You do not marry her? I thought you would when your feet touched the ground.”
Seven days past. Maddek would have wed her then. But for one thing. “She deserves to marry a king.”
Especially after she’d put so much work into him.
That amused the other warrior. “And if you are not named Ran?”
“Aezil must die,” Maddek said easily. “I will kill him and take the Rugusian throne.”
“You would be taking your bride’s throne.” Kelir laughed. “She is next in line after Aezil.”