So Ardyl and the others could believe what they wished. Whatever reason they thought Yvenne had to punish him could not compare to the contemptible weakness exposed in his warrior’s heart.
Each leading two horses, he and Ardyl returned to the stables. That the remaining members of his Dragon also refused to speak to him was expected; less expected was Kelir’s presence. Maddek had told the warrior to remain with Yvenne. Instead young Toric was missing.
Maddek frowned at his friend, who met his gaze with an anger unconcealed. No doubt he would soon hear what his Dragon believed he had done. “Where is my bride?”
“Still breaking her fast, with Toric at her side. She insisted upon dining in the common room.”
Of course she had. There was more to see and more people to watch than in their bedchamber.
But that could not be what had angered his warriors. Maddek waited.
Kelir continued, “I urged her to linger over her meal.”
“Why?”
“So that she would not witness your Dragon deliver a much-needed blow.”
Torn between amusement and irritation, Maddek began to ready his mount. “Lay it upon me, then. After you tell me what I have done.”
“You sent our future queen from your bed and forced her to sleep with the dogs.”
Saddle in hand, Maddek stilled. “What do you say?”
“You made her sleep with the dogs.” Each word was a sharp bite.
By Stranik’s split tongue. Little wonder they had given him their silence. They had not thought she punished him. Instead they believed he’d punished her—humiliated her for his warriors and the barmaid to see.
An unworthy king he would truly be then.
Sardonic humor twisted his mouth. “It was her choice to leave my bed.”
His warriors stared at him.
Face slack with disbelief, Kelir slowly said, “She chose to lie with the wolves rather than to lie with you?”
An affirmative grunt served as Maddek’s response. He settled the saddle onto his mount’s back, and the gray gelding shifted uneasily when the warriors’ laughter erupted throughout the stables. He would not put Yvenne upon this horse, then. Not if loud noises so easily disturbed him.
And his admission lifted the Dragon’s censure. Grinning, Kelir led his own horse alongside Maddek’s and began to saddle him.
Full of amusement, the warrior asked, “What did you say to her that she would rather lie with dogs?”
“Only what needed to be said.” Though the words had injured her, they had been truth. It was best she built no expectations of love that would never be.
Maddek could not love a woman who might have taken part in the murder of his parents. He could not love a woman he could never trust.
Though he could want her more fiercely than he had ever wanted another.
“Only what needed to be said?” Kelir echoed, eyeing him curiously. “Just as she said to you in secret last eve?”
That Maddek was only a warrior, not a king. His fingers faltered upon the leathers that tied his furs to the saddle. Still her words pierced him through—yet they had carried a lesson he needed to learn.
But he could not truthfully say that his lesson had been for Yvenne. It was best that she did not hope to win his heart, but she had also never spoken of such a hope. The marriage she had proposed would allow for vengeance and to strengthen the alliance. Not one word had she uttered about love or companionship. Likely because everything Maddek had said and done already taught her not to hope for them.
She had not asked for his heart last night. She had only asked for release.
It was Maddek who had wanted more. It was he who had drawn her close when he had first come to their bed. It was he who had been so overcome with need that he had rutted upon her like a boar. It was he who had been filled with such tenderness and affection toward her—until her sly words had abruptly reminded him that she could not be trusted.
But he should not have needed the reminder. That he had forgotten even briefly was a betrayal of his queen and king.
He would not care for a woman who might have played a part in their murders. It had not been her sighs and longing that prompted his words, however. Instead it was his own heart that needed the lesson.
Feeling Kelir’s expectant gaze upon him, he finally responded. “Perhaps they were words best left unsaid.”
Humor lifted the other warrior’s brows. “She will not need to make your life a misery. You do it too well yourself.”
Maddek acknowledged that with a grunt and began readying Yvenne’s new mount.
“Best you make peace with her,” was Kelir’s advice. “If you can.”
Yes. If he could. Maddek was more accustomed to making war. But now he had to be more than a warrior.
For that, he needed Yvenne.
Which must have been why his chest clenched so tightly when he spotted her approaching the stables, Toric at her side. Yvenne was not the bride he would have chosen. But she was the bride who would make him a king worthy of his people. In his thoughtlessness, he might have jeopardized everything.
Quietly Kelir said, “She came down the stairs on her ass.”
“She fell?” His gaze slipped down her cloaked length. Her stiffness had all but disappeared. She only still favored her left leg. Or was her limp from a new injury? Scowling, he looked to Kelir. “Why was there no one to catch her?”
“I was directly behind her, which was how I saw what she did,” the warrior replied, his steady gaze on Maddek’s bride. “She did not fall. On the first step, she clung so tightly to the rail it was as if she feared she would fall. Then she sat on the step and went down in that way. Fassad told me she also had difficulty climbing them last eve—as if she did not trust her left leg to hold her.”
As she had stumbled into Maddek when she had put weight upon her left leg while leaving the table. As she had collapsed to the ground when her brother had pulled her from their carriage.
Maddek had seen her weakness. Apparently he had not seen her suffering.
And he knew not what she saw in him now. Her moonstone eyes looked straight through him as he approached, leading her mount. No emotion registered on her delicate features as she first regarded him, then her new mare, then the other warriors and their mounts.
Her gaze lingered on the two horses tethered to Banek’s gelding. “You purchased so many?”
Maddek would have taken more if there had been more worth buying. “If we traveled with the Parsathean army, each warrior would have two or three horses, so that we might saddle another if one tires or falls lame. With these, we will travel more quickly. We have already lost too much time.”