Chapter Three

K ene returned three days later, grinning as she stepped into Eron's room. "The horses fetched a good price, Edry, as did the goods."

"What about the uniforms?"

"I've kept two for us, just in case." Kene eyed him up and down. "You'll have to grow into yours a bit, and I see Simona gave you a more presentable haircut. Now is the time to move on. We're expected elsewhere."

Eron followed Kene from the room and down the stairs. Simona met them at the door. "I packed you some vittles for the road." Simona hadn't smiled so broadly at anyone else, and she wore a much nicer frock than she had for the past few days. Perhaps she doted on Kene.

"How kind of you, madam." Kene bussed Simona's cheek while pressing coins into her hand, then turned to Eron. "Ready, boy?"

Eron nodded and followed Kene out to the street. Two nondescript roan mares waited, rather ordinary animals that wouldn't draw much attention. He and Kene mounted and rode away.

"Simona is nice," Eron said when the silence grew oppressive. Who was this woman who'd saved him? Had she really come to his aid to make up for a past failure? Or, as she'd told Simona, was she in need of an apprentice?

"That she is. Taking her from a brothel and buying her an inn ensures her loyalty whenever we might need to lie low for a time."

A brothel? What was that? A place where they made broth? Eron decided not to ask. "Where are we going now?"

Kene gave a half smile. "You'll see."

The air grew colder as night fell, and they traveled to higher elevations. They slept under blankets and a pile of leaves. Kene nestled close to Eron for warmth.

The days since he'd left home caught up to Eron. Whoever his family had been, he was certain they were dead. Probably many more people he'd known as well. The realization terrified him. Anyone he'd cared about in the last ten seasons wouldn't be coming. Friends, family. All gone. All behind him.

Kene had shown no sign of wanting to harm him yet, but that could change. What if Kene meant to hold him for ransom from those who'd kill him without remorse? In the darkness, with only a hooting owl and the moan of wind in the trees for accompaniment, Eron cried.

Kene wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close. "Shh, child. All will be well."

Eron couldn't help himself, giving in to the pressing weight of sorrow and uncertainly, and wailed his agony into the night.

Through it all, Kene held him, singing in a language Eron didn't understand but recognized as a lullaby.

They rose before dawn the next morning, Kene making no mention of Eron's tears. He washed his face, climbed aboard the mare, and life went on.

During their fourth day of travel, Kene handed Eron a woven sack when they dismounted for a rest. "Change." Kene turned her back while digging into a sack of her own.

The clothes inside were far finer than Eron's current attire. He turned after dressing, and his mouth dropped open. Kene looked every inch the noblewoman in a finely made dress, doeskin slippers peeking out from under the skirts.

She unplaited her braids, finger-combed her hair, then swept the waves into a mass at her nape, securing the strands with a jewel-covered clip.

Eron's legs ached from all the riding, so much so that he struggled to get into the saddle.

Kene studied the sky, then helped Eron back onto his horse. "We'll soon cross into Dillane. If we ride hard, we'll be home by nightfall."

Home? "You live in Dillane?"

"Aye."

Being from Dillane explained Kene's light eyes and hair, though she didn't speak with the rolling burr of some northerners.

The road grew steeper the farther they traveled, tall oak trees giving way to scrubby little bushes clinging precariously to steep slopes. White-capped mountains appeared in the distance. They came to a stone wall, which they followed as the sun hit its zenith and began its downward journey into night.

They stopped twice by a stream for water, where Kene shared bits of cheese and dried meat.

The wall gave way to a set of broad double gates shortly before twilight. Kene's horse quickened its pace. A man shouted down from a watchtower. "Open the gates for Lady Kene!"

Lady Kene? Kennestone. Wait! Baroness Kennestone? How did the watchman know? Better yet, how did Eron? The gates opened with a groan. Kene rode confidently into the courtyard of a stately stone structure, horse hooves clattering over cobblestones. Eron trailed behind. What was this place? It stood two stories tall, yet sprawled in all directions, a small town growing around the main house. The clang of a blacksmith's hammer sounded from one end of the courtyard; on the other, women removed clothing from a line. A few children regarded him with curious eyes before returning to their play.

Kene sat straighter in the saddle. Her entire demeanor changed from Kene, the traveling merchant avenging angel, to a stately noblewoman not bloody likely to dirty her hands with the likes of the soldiers she'd killed. A tall man approached, a touch of gray in his light brown hair and neatly trimmed beard. "Welcome home, milady," he said with a smile, crinkles forming around his blue eyes.

"Thank you, Rolf." Kene spoke far softer than when she'd portrayed a merchant. "Rolf, I'd like you to meet my new ward, Edry."

Rolf bowed. "Greetings, Lord Edry."

"Lord Edry" might take some getting used to. "Greetings, Rolf," Eron replied, dismounting his horse when Rolf took the reins, but keeping one hand on the saddle to steady himself on wobbly legs.

"Edry, Rolf is the reason I can leave my estate. His word is as good as mine here." Kene dismounted from her horse without assistance, nor did Rolf offer any. "It's good to be home."

An ache took root in Eron's heart, but why, he couldn't quite tell.

"Rolf, I'd like you to keep a watchful eye on Edry." And so, Eron went from merchant's apprentice to a noblewoman's ward.

A wrinkle formed between Rolf's brows. He lowered his voice and leaned into Kene. "You were… unsuccessful?"

Pain flashed across Kene's features, gone in an instant. "I was. But I didn't come away empty-handed." She mussed Eron's hair, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips and her eyes glinting. A tear spilled over her lashes. She wiped it away with one hand.

"My deepest condolences, milady." Rolf handed the reins of Kene's horse to a stable lad.

Kene gave a sniff, then plastered on a strained smile. "Let's see about a meal, shall we? Edry is a growing boy and needs a full belly and sleep."

Eron. Lord Edry. By the next full moon, he had added another title to his new life: Lordling Night, because he'd been rescued by the notorious highwayman, Lord Night.