Nodding, she rubbed the mare’s muzzle and softly exchanged breaths with the animal before her gaze began searching the stable. “Is there a mounting block?”
Because although her riding had improved these past days, still she could not swing herself into the saddle—and she would never be so tall as to raise her foot high enough to reach the stirrup. Instead she needed a ledge or rock to step upon, or for Maddek to lift her onto the horse’s back.
Maddek was here, yet she looked for a block. As if she could not bear his touch.
Jaw hardening, he clamped his hands around her waist. Instantly she stiffened, though she did not pull away or argue. Silent she remained as he hefted her astride. With both hands, she steadied herself on the pommel of her saddle.
He did not immediately give over the reins. “Will you run today if you must?”
Her soft lips thinned before she answered tightly, “I will try, warrior.”
Warrior. Never had it felt like an insult before. Yet that was what she had called him almost from the first moment of their meeting.
Almost. Because the first time she had spoken to him, she had called him Ran Maddek. How far and how quickly he had fallen in her estimation.
Perhaps because he asked the wrong questions. “Can you run if you must? Why do you favor your left leg?”
Her pale eyes darted to his face before she deliberately pulled her gaze away from him, offering the stubborn lift of her chin as an answer.
He liked the look of that answer but it was not the one he sought. Did she fear admitting a weakness? She had never seemed reluctant to speak of hers before. “If I am to protect you, Yvenne, I must know what you can and cannot do.”
As he expected, her sense outweighed her stubbornness.
“I cannot run,” she snapped. “Three years past, my knee was shattered. It never properly healed.”
Shattered while she was locked in a tower room? “How were you hurt?” Tension gripped him. “Who hurt you?”
“I prefer not to say. Whenever I reveal anything of myself, warrior, you make weapons from what you learn.” A baleful glance was sent his way. “And it matters not. If any Parsathean sacrifices themself coming to my rescue, you have said you will kill me. Best not to attempt any rescue at all.”
“I said that if my warriors fell. I would risk myself.”
This time the glance she shot in his direction was guarded. Wary. As if she did not trust his word.
The muscles at the back of his neck stiffened. To doubt a Parsathean’s word was a grave insult. But if Maddek was to make peace, he had to let it pass.
Quietly he said, “When I spoke of warriors sacrificing themselves, I knew nothing of your injury or that you cannot run. I spoke in haste and rage and grief.”
Her chin lifted again. “Was it your haste and rage and grief that almost ripped out my tongue?”
That he could not let pass. “You heard my vow and my warning. Yet still you spoke with sly tongue yesterday.”
“So I did. Twice.”
“Three times.”
“Twice.” Her sharpened gaze returned to his. “Once at the ruins and once while we ate our meal. I should not have attempted to slip mention of her into our conversations. I regret that I did. But I also told you I would not again.”
“Yet you did again, in our bed. Unless you will claim it was my warriors and not my mother who said I would please you there?”
“Why would I make such a claim? I was speaking of my mother.”
Maddek frowned. “How could she know such a thing?”
On a shaky breath, she looked away from him again to gaze blindly ahead, her jaw set. After a moment she said, “My mother watched you—as she watched every warrior and noble who might eventually make a suitable match for me. She saw you with your lovers and assured me you would see to my pleasure.”
Maddek had not taken a lover in years. Not since becoming commander of the alliance army more than eight summers past.
Had Queen Vyssen watched him so long?
In disbelief he searched Yvenne’s face. He could not know whether she spoke the truth. But it matched what she had claimed before. Her mother had observed many members of the alliance . . . and after Zhalen had deceived her, surely Queen Vyssen would not let another man deceive her daughter in the same way. What better way to know a man’s character than to watch him for years?
Sick shame returned to his chest. He could still feel Yvenne’s slick tongue between his fingers. He could still hear her panicked sobbing breaths as she seized his wrist and tried to prevent him from fulfilling his vow.
Had he done so, never would he have known the truth. And he would have not been an oathbreaker. He would have been far worse.
He would not ask for her forgiveness. What he had done should not be forgiven. Instead he offered what poor apology he could.
Throat raw, he told her, “I wronged you. For that, I am sorry.”
In either surprise or incredulity, her moonstone eyes darted to his face again. For a long moment she simply looked at him. Finally she said, “Was it your haste and rage and grief again?”
At her measured reply, relief loosened the knot in his chest. “I have been counseled against speaking or making decisions while in the grip of it.”
“It was wise counsel.”
“Yes.” Nayil’s counsel often was. Yet Maddek had discarded the Parsathean minister’s advice almost immediately upon hearing that Zhalen had a daughter. “In the future, I will better heed it.”
“That is also wise,” she said softly, though the ironic smile that followed suggested she did not fully believe it.
“You think I will not succeed?”
“Perhaps.” Her shrug was lightweight, unlike her gaze upon his face. “In truth, I was thinking of my own poor decision. I cannot blame haste or rage, because my choice of husband was years in the making. But still I regret my choice now.”
Regretted him, Maddek realized—and the emotion that rose through him was quick and hot, and felt like anger, but fury had never clawed painfully at his chest as this emotion did.
Still it sounded the same as fury, harsh and unyielding, as he demanded, “Could your marriage to any other man better strengthen the alliance?”
Her jaw tightened before she admitted, “No.”
“Is there another who would defy the council and destroy your father?”
“No.”
“Who will free your people from his tyranny?”
Such a long pause followed, it was as if she desperately tried to think of another name before admitting defeat. “No.”