11. Tamsyn

11

Tamsyn

I WASN'T DEAD.

I had thought I might be. Especially the moment Lord Dryhten ripped off my veil. I shuddered. The look in his eyes...

I'd reacted when I struck him. Unthinkingly. Automatically. Apparently I had some fight in me, after all. Some instinct for self-preservation. It was a revelation, and I did not regret striking out at him. My life was not only about forbearance. Just because I was a whipping girl did not mean I was his whipping girl.

I returned to my chamber, knowing full well that if Lord Dryhten wished me elsewhere, then he would let it be known. He was my husband now. I was his to command. Luckily for me, he had suffered enough of me for the day. Likely he could not stomach the sight of his betrayer.

I was not summoned that evening. It seemed I would have one final night for myself in the only home I had ever known. As night fell, a maid arrived to begin packing my things for the journey. I was leaving. Still. He had not put a stop to it. I would be departing tomorrow. With him. To his home in the north. I digested this slowly. In pieces.

The maid held up items, asking me what I wished to take with me. I responded numbly with nods and shakes of my head and monosyllabic answers.

There was little I could bring with me. No trunks or valises. We would travel on horseback. No carriage or carts or retinue of attendants. I would not even be bringing a lady's maid with me. There would be no such courtesy extended, and I could not help wondering if that would have been the case if I were Alise or Feena and Sybilia. Pointless conjecture, for I was not any of the princesses. I was me. And I would be tossed atop a horse and expected to keep up with a party of warriors. At least I could ride—not that anyone had asked that of me.

The maid rang for a bath. My second one in a day. A rarity, but necessary. I scrubbed my skin raw with soap and a sponge—but to no avail. I still felt him. Still smelled him on me. He filled my nose, and a now familiar heat curled through me, at once softening and tightening my muscles.

Shifting in the tub, the twinge of tenderness between my thighs served only as a further reminder of my recent bedding. Had that only been a short time ago? I felt as though I'd lived a lifetime since then. Certainly my world had changed ten times over... and would continue to do so.

Once out of the tub, I seated myself before the fire. With my hair washed, brushed, and fanned out over my shoulders to dry, I gazed into the flickering flames.

I felt numb and hollow inside, scarcely noticing as the maid silently went about the room, packing the whole of my life into a single rucksack.

My head snapped up at the sudden arrival of the queen and princesses, striding inside my chamber without announcement. Except Alise. She was not with them.

"You're so very brave." Feena cupped my face and kissed both of my cheeks.

Sybilia pushed her aside to embrace me so tightly she squeezed the air right out of me. "We're going to miss you so much."

At mention of that, Feena snapped, "Mama! We cannot let our Tamsyn go with that wretched Lord Dryhten. She married him... and did her duty." Her nostrils quivered, as though the notion of my sacrifice was most foul to her senses. "She can remain here where she belongs now."

"She must go with her husband," the queen countered evenly. "Being a wife goes beyond one night together."

I swallowed miserably. Being a wife goes beyond one night together.

After the way he had looked at me, I doubted his shadow would ever fall upon my bed again. His expression had been so full of contempt.

Sybilia rolled her eyes. "She is Lady Dryhten now, Feena. Of course she must go with him."

Lady Dryhten. I winced. I scarcely felt like a wife—vigorous bedding notwithstanding.

Feena leaned forward to hiss in my ear, "Was it so very terrible? Did it hurt?"

I doubted her mother would appreciate my answering that question. These girls had their own marital responsibilities ahead of them. The queen would not want me to fill their heads with alarming ideas.

"Where is Alise?" I asked instead, hoping to see her one more time before I departed on the morrow.

The three of them swapped looks that communicated something indecipherable. At least to me.

"She will be along shortly," the queen replied blithely.

"She was quite upset," Sybilia volunteered, darting a wary glance at her mother. "She blames Mama and Papa for—"

"Enough of that, Sybilia," the queen said, reprimanding her. Looking to me, she repeated firmly, "Don't worry yourself. She will be along shortly."

Alise was not along shortly. She was not along later.

The queen and the princesses said their farewells. The maid left me, and, with my hair mostly dry, I settled on my bed to wait for Alise. My hand went to my breastbone, to that area that felt so tight and warm and throbbing since the Beast's arrival—since he'd joined me in that bed. I rubbed my fingers in a gentle circle there, over the discomfort.

All of me was one giant, pulsing ache. Perhaps that was normal. The way every woman felt following her first time with a man, and it would fade.

I fell asleep like that. Hoping. Waiting. A hand resting on my chest.

I DREAMED OF FIRE.

Flames everywhere. The Beast was there, cutting through the crackling heat, coming for me through the fire. He reached me. Sparks popped and lifted off me when he touched me. And then he suddenly burst into flame.

I woke strangling on a scream. For several moments I sat upright, gasping, gulping back sobs. I looked to my window, and the faint purpling sky foreshadowing the emerging day.

With a shuddering breath, I flung back the coverlet and dressed myself. A maid soon arrived, carrying a tray. I ate a hasty breakfast of bread, cheese, and fruit. I forced the food down, not knowing when I would next eat, if they would even bother to feed me. None of the border warriors would be kindly disposed toward me. Perhaps in time I would gain their respect and trust. Of course, that would only happen if Lord Dryhten treated me with kindness and respect. They would take their cues from him. Not the most reassuring thought. His eyes had burned with such anger once my veil had been removed and he clapped eyes on me.

I sat before the dressing mirror, my feet tapping anxiously as my hair was separated into several braids and then wound around my head in a coronet. As soon as the maid was finished, I bounded from the bench, knowing I had little time.

"My lady," she cried, confirming this suspicion. "You're expected downstairs straight away."

"See that my bag is sent down. I will be there soon."

I couldn't leave without saying good-bye to Alise. I didn't know when I would see her again. If ever. My last moments with her would not be in front of an audience. I swallowed thickly. I would be in the Borderlands, and she would be elsewhere, married to some distant king or prince. Perhaps even across an ocean. This could be our last time together.

"But they insisted on leaving at first light!"

I sent a quick glance at the murky dawn floating through the window of my bedchamber.

"I will hurry," I promised. "Make my excuses."

She called out after me, but her exact words were lost. I was already out the door and hastening down the corridor.

I made a beeline for Alise's chamber. She was not an early riser, and I was confident I would catch her still in bed.

I was wrong. A maid was tidying the room.

"Princess Alise?" I demanded. "Where did she go?"

"I believe she went to the kennels, my lady."

The kennels.

I winced. My least favorite place. I hesitated only a moment before stiffening my spine and rushing through the mostly empty palace. For Alise, I could endure it.

Only a few servants were up and about, stirring the fire awake in the Great Hall's hearth. I emerged into the bracing air outside. For Alise, I would brave the kennels.

Down the winding path, past the outdoor kitchen and stables I went. The wolves were housed in the farthest building in the exterior courtyard, closest to the postern gate, away from the heaviest traffic. The capricious beasts were not placed in proximity of the horses.

They were restless this morning. I could hear them prowling in their cages. As I advanced, they grew more agitated, louder, yipping and whining, scratching and pawing at the walls. It was always that way. The wolves did not like me. I tried not to take it too personally. They didn't like many humans. Except for their keepers, of course, and the rare individual.

Once upon a time, wolves had been instrumental in the Threshing for their skill in hunting dragons. Wolves hunted much less threatening game now. Time had lifted the threat of dragons. These days, King Hamlin and his nobles kept the wolves for sport.

Wolves were still used in the distant outposts, helping in the waging of war in the outer regions of the kingdom. I could only assume the border lords kept them, too.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside the kennels, peering down the shadowed middle aisle for a glimpse of Alise. She was one of the rare individuals. The beasts adored her. She was as natural with them as any of the keepers tasked with their care.

They didn't attack humans. Not unless directed to do so. At least that was what their keepers always assured me when I ventured too close to the kennels and the wolves started foaming at the mouth. Only desperation to see Alise could bring me here. They were deadly, feral, brutal animals, and I had never been able to view them as pets, as Alise did.

"Alise?" I whispered loudly.

As soon as I spoke, the already charged air exploded. Every wolf came alive—barking, howling, snarling—jolted awake by the sound of my voice.

They wanted to tear me apart. This moment only confirmed the rightness of my instinct to stay away from them. And yet here I was now.

The wolves nearest me could actually see me through the bars of their kennels, and it sent them over the edge. They charged the bars, flinging their considerable weight against the iron with no thought to hurting themselves. They were relentless in their need to reach me, to tear me apart.

There was a sickening crack as a giant gray wolf to my right hurled himself against his cage. He yelped in pain, but that did not stop him. With his front leg dangling unnaturally, he kept coming, wild eyes crazed and rolling, fixed on me, mouth foaming, spittle flying. I jumped back, which only brought me closer to the kennel on my left. A she-wolf shoved her snapping muzzle between the bars at me.

"Tamsyn!" Alise appeared. She hurried down the aisle to me. "What are you doing here? You don't like the wolves."

I resisted pointing out that they did not like me .

Seizing her hands, I tugged her out of the kennels. That did little to quiet the wolves, however. The animals could no longer see me, but they could still hear me... smell me. That was all they needed to track their quarry. Scent. Historically, that was what guided them deep into the ancient caves and winding tunnels of the Crags to ferret out dragons for the scores of warriors following behind them.

Alise glanced over her shoulder in bewilderment. "They've gone mad."

I shook my head. She didn't recall that this was how they were when it came to me. It had been years since I'd ventured close to the kennels. For this very reason.

"You didn't come to tell me good-bye." My voice trembled with a faint accusation.

Tears welled in her eyes. "I just couldn't." She shook her head. "I couldn't bear seeing you, knowing what we forced you to do—"

I pulled her into a hug. "Don't say that. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Our parents did. The lord regent. And I know you did it for us. For me and Feena and Sybilia. You've always done everything for us."

Her hot tears dampened my neck. I pulled back to look at her, searching her face. "I'm not sorry. Life was going to change anyway. It was coming. This is... fine. I will be fine," I vowed, pushing a fair tendril back, off her moist cheek.

She nodded. "It's just that he is so... frightening. Aren't you scared of going with him?"

I had a flash of him as he had been last night inside our curtained bed—so very decent and tender. All will be well. He'd promised me that before he had proceeded to wring pleasure from me. Shattering, gasping pleasure as his body joined with mine. He didn't have to say those words of comfort... or to make me feel so alive, so good, so hungry for him. And yet he had.

There it was. The uncomfortable truth. My weakness. I would not mind doing yesterday with him all over again—this time without a veil between us. This time with no one else in the room.

Except now he hated me, and rightly so. I could not blame him.

The wolves were deafening now. I could hear the keepers within, arriving with buckets of food to appease them, tutting under their tongues and cooing to the agitated beasts, clearly perplexed at their distress.

"There you are!"

At the thundering voice, I turned to watch my husband— still strange, that—storming down the path toward me, his boots biting into the dirt-packed ground.

My body sprang to life at the sight of him, the familiar warmth pervading me, the mystifying tightness pulling at the center of my chest again.

He was dressed to ride, his leathered armor stretched across his wide chest. The dark hair framing his face did nothing to soften his expression. The hilt of his sword peeked out from behind him, and I could well imagine one of his thick arms reaching for it in one swift move, sliding it from its scabbard before cleaving me in half.

Alise shrank behind me, and I hated that she had to see him like this, glowering and intimidating, when she was already afraid for me. She would worry for me long after I left.

"I was saying good-bye," I snapped, annoyed at the impression he was making, at the unease within her that he did nothing to quell. Not that he owed her anything. Not that he owed me anything.

Alise sucked in a breath behind me at my tone.

He paused at my rebuttal, and then resumed his strides, his expression only more cross as he advanced. "Were you not informed we would be leaving at first light?"

"I was on my way."

Tension rippled across his taut jaw. "We will not pander to your whims. The crossing is long and grueling. Your leisure will not be a consideration."

My sister's hand tightened on my arm. If I had any doubt that he was still angry, it fled in an instant. I could expect no softness from him.

"I had assumed as much," I replied.

"Good." He grasped my elbow. "Then let us go. We should have already departed."

I twisted free to turn and face Alise. "I will write to you as soon as I can."

Alise nodded jerkily. "As will I." She sent a nervous glance to the big warrior. "Do not hurt her, my lord," she blurted with a thrust of her chin. It was the hardest and meanest I had ever seen her. "Or you shall have to contend with me."

Something flickered across his face, and I waited tensely for some nasty rejoinder from the man, but he gave a single nod. "Understood." It seemed enough to satisfy Alise. She surged forward and hugged me again.

Turning, I stepped around him and resolutely began marching back to the stables, my riding skirts swishing around my boots. He fell in beside me, a big heat-radiating wall next to me.

"Thank you for that," I grudgingly offered.

"For what?"

"Giving her that assurance. I know you did not mean it."

He sent me a sidelong look and grunted. Not precisely a denial, and that stung. I supposed I had been fishing. I wanted him to insist that he had meant it. Apparently I would get no more than that grunt from him.

We passed the stables.

"They're waiting for us in the bailey," he said.

Indeed they were waiting, staring crossly at me as I came into sight. The dozen warriors were assembled and already mounted atop their destriers, the horses so much larger than anything I had ever seen in the palace stables. The royal family and the lord regent and several other retainers stood on the steps of the Great Hall, come to see us off.

I ignored Lord Dryhten and his warriors. Their impatience was palpable in the morning air, and I ignored that, too, approaching the steps. I accepted kisses on my cheeks from the king and the queen.

The queen cupped my face, her fingers gentle on my skin. "The day you were brought to me, I knew you were special. Be well, daughter. Forge your path."

A lump formed in my throat at her reference to the day I was found abandoned in the palace bailey. The queen chose me when no one else wanted me. She had saved me from an uncertain and precarious fate and served as a mother to me—the only mother I would ever know. I nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Her gaze glided over my shoulder and then returned to my face. Leaning in close, she whispered, "You have more power than you know."

I glanced to where she had looked over my shoulder. My husband stood there, muscled legs braced apart, his expression impassive, enigmatic eyes hooded beneath slashing dark eyebrows.

Did she mean to imply I held power over him? I grimaced, thinking of the way he had looked and his angry words when he found me with Alise. That was wishful thinking on her part.

The lord regent spoke to me in exasperation, gesturing for me to move away. "Off with you, girl. Be a good wife. Do not make them wait on you." His gaze flickered beyond me apprehensively, as though he feared they might leave without me or still yet denounce this entire affair.

Turning, I started down the steps, stopping at the sound of my name.

Stig stepped forward from where he stood among stoic-faced members of the guard, his gaze fixed intently on me, his boots tapping softly on the stone steps.

His father glared at him. "Stig, get back in—"

"I will come for you," he said, addressing me, ignoring his father, ignoring everyone. His soft brown eyes were fastened on me with a single-minded focus, and I could not help the flutter in my chest at his obvious concern. I would never have another friend like him. I didn't even know if I would have a friend at all where I was going. I would miss him. "If you ever have need, send word and I will come for you."

I opened and closed my mouth, uncertain how to reply to that, when I felt a sudden presence beside me. A hand fell upon my shoulder and I felt the weight of it, the radiating warmth traveling bone-deep, a brand penetrating me through my garments.

A quick look at my husband revealed he was not, however, staring at me. All his searing attention was trained on Stig. "And know that if you ever step foot in the Borderlands, you will not take what is mine. If you even try, I will end you."

I gasped, marveling at the ring of possession in his voice. For me. As though I were some sort of commodity and not a wife he had been saddled with against his will through duplicitous means.

Stig's lips flattened into a mutinous line, but he said nothing. His eyes clashed with the Beast's in silent battle before sliding to me, the promise of his words still glowing there despite my husband's threat, and I knew—he would come if I needed him.

The big hand on my shoulder slid down to clasp my elbow. He guided me to the horses. "We've delayed long enough."

My feet worked to keep up with his long strides. Even as tall as I was, he was taller. Two of my steps matched every one of his.

He stopped beside a docile mare I recognized from the palace stables, and I released a sigh of relief, reaching up to fondly stroke the white star on her forehead. I had feared I would be forced to mount one of the hulking destriers.

"Can you ride?" he asked tersely.

Without waiting for my reply, Lord Dryhten's hands suddenly seized me by the waist, and I was airborne.

I squeaked, my hands flying to his shoulders as he settled me atop my mount.

I'd been taught to ride alongside the princesses. Even though I'd excelled in those lessons, outshining my younger sisters, I feared my instruction had only been rudimentary. Anytime I traveled a significant distance, I was in the comforts of a carriage.

"I hope you do," he added with a grim set to that lush mouth of his.

"Yes. I ride," I replied with far more bravado than I felt, telling myself to reveal none of my doubt among these hard-faced warriors. We will not pander to your whims. I most definitely would not be offered a carriage at any point in this journey. There would be no velvet seat cushion. No blanket for my lap with hot bricks to warm me. Then and there, I vowed I would become an expert horsewoman... and if I didn't, I would not dare complain.

"Aye, we heard just how well you like to ride," one of Dryhten's men, whom I recognized from the bedding ceremony last night, taunted.

Laughter broke out among the warriors.

Mortification stung my cheeks. Like most of the warriors, he was brawny and thick-necked. His flinty gaze collided with mine, and I felt a shiver of apprehension at the animosity reflected there. I quickly looked away, moistening my lips, preferring my husband's apathy to this.

Lord Dryhten sent a warning look to his warriors. They all quieted under his sharp gaze. There was no humor in his expression. For a long moment nothing could be heard over the clinking of harnesses and stomping hooves and wind whistling through the bailey. At last my husband signaled with a whirl of his fingers that we should all move out. Riders turned their horses and started toward the gates at a swift clip, eager to be on their way.

My husband lingered, hovering close to my mare and looking up at me. "Where are your gloves?"

I dipped a hand into the pocket of my riding skirts and dutifully pulled them out. He waited as I slid them on, the supple leather smoothly encasing my fingers.

He took up my reins and passed them to me. Accepting them, I looked at him questioningly. He glanced after his warriors, who had filed out of the courtyard. From them he looked to the king and queen and their retinue, then back to me again.

Was he having second thoughts? Contemplating leaving me here, after all?

His expression was unreadable, and I held my breath, not certain what to hope for in this instance. Whatever he decided did not change that I was bound to him for the rest of my life. Here or in the Borderlands, I was his wife.

"The crossing isn't for the weak," he warned me. "You need to keep up and do as bade, understand?"

He was decided then.

I nodded and moistened my lips. "What shall I call you?" Should I forever address him as my lord or Lord Dryhten or you there ? He was my husband, after all. If he was going to be bossing me about, I'd like to know what to call him.

He considered me thoughtfully and sent a glance after his party. They were well ahead of us, through the portcullis now. His eyes locked with mine again. "You may call me Fell," he said, but there was a strange note to his voice. Resentment, maybe.

Fell.

Something jumped inside my chest then. A flicker of reaction that I could not decipher.

He left me and swung up into his saddle without even touching the reins or seat horn. I whispered his name soundlessly, trying it out, tasting it on my tongue, and that spot in my chest flared like an ember catching to life.

Shaking my head, I tightened my grip around the reins and braced myself to follow him. My mare seemed to know, falling in immediately behind him.

We formed a line out of the palace, plodding down into the City, mindful of bodies in our path. People stepped aside in the streets, their expressions wary as they paused to watch us pass. Several mamas tucked their children behind their skirts, pushing down the cheerfully waving hands of their youths as though such friendliness to the barbarians from the north would draw undue attention to them.

Once we cleared the outer walls of the City, the road widened, and we spread out a little more. My mare dutifully trailed Fell's horse. The warrior lord moved as one with his destrier, his big body rolling and fluid atop the giant beast, and I knew he had probably never once been a passenger inside a carriage. He looked born to the saddle.

I admired the impressive breadth of his shoulders and back, my cheeks heating as I recalled the sensation of Fell's muscled back beneath my palms. I wrenched myself away from such lusty thinking. I'd never had such thoughts before. It was astounding how much could change in so short a time.

The older warrior from earlier rode back to us from the front of the group. "I'll take the rear," he volunteered, easily managing his spirited mount.

Fell gave a single nod.

The grizzly warrior passed my husband and then wheeled around, riding abreast of me. I glanced at him uncertainly and gave a perfunctory incline of my head. "Good day."

He ran his pale white fingers through his thick beard as he considered me bitterly, the barest hint of his lips visible through the coarse hair. He smirked as he assessed me bobbing atop my saddle. I knew I didn't look one with my horse. I couldn't even pretend otherwise.

"It's a long and dangerous journey, lass. Anything can happen on the crossing." He glanced ahead to my husband, who was unaware of or indifferent to the conversation happening behind him. The morning sun emerged, breaking through the clouds and striking my husband's tar-black hair, the strands flashing purple as a raven's wing in the sunlight. "Even the most veteran warrior can perish. And you"—the older man savored the words—"are no warrior." The pronouncement sent a chill through me, and that was when I knew.

If this man had anything to do with it, I would never reach the Borderlands alive.